I'm Not in Love

“Hang on—it’s in my bureau drawer.” Tristan hops from the bed and barely ten seconds later, he slips in beside me, fully prepared.

I reach up and flick on the reading light above his bed. “Lie on your back.” I want to look into his eyes as we make love, so I can be certain he’s opening more than just his body to me.

Without hesitation, Tristan drops the condom and lube by the pillow and rolls onto his back. His expression is a warm invitation. His arms rest loosely at his sides; his legs bend and then fall apart. He’s relaxed, calm, and sure of the man he’s looking at.

I kneel between his thighs. “When I first saw you, I found you so exquisite… I thought getting you in bed would mean I’d conquered you. And once we’d slept together, I’d have wrung my need for you from my soul.” Tristan closes his eyes—not to hide—but to better focus on my words. “It didn’t turn out like that.”

When he opens his eyes, it’s like gazing into the spring. Bright and full of hope, even in the dim light.

I lean down to kiss him, and our lovemaking begins in earnest. Inside the tiny beam shining from above the bed that labors to light my way, I gaze at my partner. The pale, downy fuzz on Tristan’s arms and legs shimmers like gold. His sandy hair, tousled by my hands, fans out on the deep-blue pillowcase. His smooth, sculpted chest welcomes my touch, and I answer the invitation.

Resting my weight on the strength of one arm, I caress the velvety skin in the hollow of his neck. My lips follow the path made by my fingertips, and he sighs his pleasure. When I push myself up, to again take in his beauty, I admit what crossed my mind when I first saw him in the drawing studio. “You look like an angel.”

Tristan shakes his head. “I’m no angel, Remi.”

I don’t bother to disagree; I know who he is. He’s the man who gives everything to the ones he loves. And he’s the man who saved me from a lonely life.

When I bend to take his swollen dick into my mouth, it’s as much to taste as it is to please. After taking a moment to savor and tease the sensitive tip, I move upon him steadily. My purpose clear. His moans are restrained, and I sense his struggle to stay in control. I’m aware of the very moment he shoves his fist into his mouth to stifle his sounds.

When his thrusts become vigorous, I pull my mouth from him. “I want you to come when I’m inside you.” When he nods, I kneel and get to work with the lube.

Tristan keeps his fist between his teeth as I open him. A mere minute later, though, he pulls it out to say, “I’m ready now.”

Patience has never been Tristan’s greatest virtue while making love. Still, I swiftly roll on the condom. And just as he recreated a past conversation earlier tonight, I’m going to do the same, but with a slight improvement. I lift his ass, so his entrance is near.

“This,” I murmur and press the head of my dick against the slick opening to his body, “means everything to me.”

He smiles with agreement.

I push inside the body of my lover—deliberately and constantly—never removing so much as an inch of myself until my balls brush his ass. And then I slide in and out of him, at first, with a smooth, steady rhythm. There’s no rush to complete this act. Making love to Tristan tonight is a promise of sorts—that I will be the man he can depend on for everything he needs, from emotional wellbeing to physical satisfaction.

“Faster, Remi.”

His demand changes everything. I tighten my grip on his hips and shorten my thrusts, as he takes himself in hand. And we journey together to a place we’ll never go without one another again. When I release inside him, and he explodes between our chests, I embrace the truth.

“I’m so much in love with you, Tristan.” It’s not hard to admit.

THE END… for now