Tristan’s cheeks and ears blazed. “Okay.” Slowly, he walked his fingers up to Henry’s waistband. He stroked down until he hit the hard plastic button. He fumbled for a second or two, then slid it through the fabric to reveal... “Commando?”
“I didn’t think you’d be seeing me with no pants on. I got dressed in a hurry.”
“Well, I’m not seeing you.” Still unbreakable black in the hotel room. “Feeling you, sure, but not seeing you.”
Henry breathed a sparse laugh, and Tristan let his hand rest against the warm, hard shaft. Tentatively, he explored it, certain in the back of his mind Henry would put a stop to it soon, or that he’d come to his senses himself and back away. But his fingers brushed the head, down the thick, corded curve of the shaft. He joined thumb and middle finger around it, taking in the girth and the velvet skin.
Henry repositioned himself but made no sound, and Tristan continued down until he hit prickly bush. Obviously shaved. Even in the invisibility of darkness, Henry’s cock wasnoticeable. Thick enough, long enough—admirable without being terrifying to think about. Though maybe, in this moment,nothingabout Henry would have been a turnoff or a terror or a worry.
Tristan slid his hand down, feeling the full, heavy balls rest against his fingers and palm. For a moment, he considered diving deeper, farther back toward the ass, but stopped himself. Fingering wasn’t the kind of surprise you sprung on a first date, let alone... whatever this was.
So Tristan shifted himself around and pulled Henry’s shaft all the way out of the fly. He held it around the base. Tighter than before, pulling the skin back slightly. And he pressed his lips to the tip. He hesitated half a second, to let Henry back out if he wanted to... No protest, just silence and his heartbeat in his ears.
Tristan took the head into his mouth. Salty pre-come coated his tongue, and Henry moaned. A guttural, animal sound that thrashed through the dark and drove Tristan’s cock higher.Now I wish I wasn’t wearing underwear.So restrictive. And way too awkward to try to shimmy his bottoms off with one hand.
Tristan took in another inch of the shaft, then another. He ached to explore Henry—mouth, ass, however. It was like all his building passions finally cracked the dam, and there was no stopping the flood, even if he’d wanted to.
Henry’s moans turned into tight groans, which buzzed electric down Tristan’s spine. His hands landed on Tristan’s shoulders, squeezing hard and melting him with the strength of those callused hands. Another inch. The head pressed against the back of Tristan’s throat, and his nose filled with coconut and sweat and clean flesh. He wanted nothing more than to envelop himself in those scents and never surface again. He reached down to his own crotch, slowly massaging the hard growth as he bobbed up and down on Henry.
“Jesus. I thought you were just a pastry chef.” Henry’s one hand grazed up Tristan’s neck and cupped the back of his head. He pushed Tristan forward a little harder, a little faster, forcing his cock a little deeper into Tristan’s mouth. “When did you find time to learnthis?”
Tristan had to catch a breath. He pulled off Henry’s dick and wiped the barest tears from his eyes. “Even pastry chefs need a hobby.”
“Sucking dick is your hobby? You don’t seem the type.”
“No, it’s macramé. Sucking dick is a God-given talent.”
“Well, then praise be to God.” The hands left Tristan’s body. A slight rustle of fabric, and then Tristan felt more heat, more skin. “You still can’t see?”
“I’m not wearing my glasses.” The sheets rustled as Henry stood, no longer in the blowjob receiving position, that was for sure. “I thought I was good. Too much to handle?”Or did you finally give up on this insanity?
The hands returned under Tristan’s armpits, guiding him to his feet. “I’m returning the favor.” Henry’s voice was quiet, breath humid against Tristan’s ear. His hands glided over Tristan’s ribs, sliding ever downward and taking his pants and boxers with them. Tristan’s cock sprung free, almost touching his abdomen it curved up so high.
As warmth and wet pressure surrounded the head, then the shaft, his knees weakened. Henry’s hands cupped his ass and forced him deeper, until Tristan felt lips near the base of his cock. Tristan’s stomach churned lightning, tossed it into his chest, into his head. Every inch of him sparked and crackled, and the bare shapes he could see vanished under the shroud of passion. He struggled with each breath to keep from moaning or whimpering or letting anyone else know the hot ecstasy that raced under his skin and through his veins. It was— This was for him and for Henry, not the whole rest of the hotel. Like all the heat and energy, it was there to pass betweenthem.
But damn it all, it wasn’teasyto hold back. Tristan chewed his lower lip, clenched and unclenched his fists, but he stayed silent. Even as Henry’s speed increased, lips tightened around the base of his cock, fingers brushed against his balls.
“Jesus, I’m not going to last long at this rate.” Tristan barely let that out as a whisper in the darkness. He couldn’t manage a lot louder without letting go all the way.
Henry pulled off. “Lay on the bed.” His voice was gruff, and the rough edges of it grazed and caught against Tristan, raising goose bumps across his skin. “I’ll take care of you.”
Tristan gingerly lowered himself onto the bed and leaned back. Henry barely gave him a couple seconds before diving into the fray again, giving him warmth and wetness and so much suction. Tristan balled the blanket in his fists as a storm blustered and blazed through his body. Henry apparently didn’t intend to slow up. His fingers pressed against Tristan’s chest, then down to his abdomen, his thighs. Fingertips turned to fingernails, scratching across too-sensitive skin, and still Henry bobbed. Sweat dripped down Tristan’s nose and lips.
“Fucking Christ, Henry.” He stroked Henry’s hair. Everything about him was fire. Fire andfuckingcoconut that wasn’t going away, no matter how much sweat or how many blowjobs.I’ve got to get that stupid cologne.Maybe if I win, I can afford it.
Henry went faster still, and the oncoming eruption swelled. The storm condensed again, gathering in his abdomen, all electricity and light and motion. Like one of those plasma globes firing and arcing brilliant blue in some erratic pattern. Until something touched the glass and attracted that errant bolt of lightning.
Henry was the point of conduction. Tristan’s muscles tightened. No words could pass his lips. As the electricity pooled and tightened and flowed down to his crotch, cold and hot burst across his body. His stomach to his chest to the top of his head. His back arched away from the mattress and his balls pulled higher. Henry kept up his pace, the pressure of his sucking and bobbing, the tightness of his lips.
In spite of all his self-control and effort, a strangled groan crept past Tristan’s lips. His lightning storm shot down and out, released through thrust after thrust of boiling ecstasy. Henry stayed put, even as the come spilled from the tip of Tristan’s cock. Tristan relished being taken care of, attended to even as his body tensed. His skin tingled, and coconut cut through the fog, filling his lungs. Then his muscles gave out, going slack like snapped cables.
The storm dissipated and he collapsed, still in Henry’s mouth. His chest heaved, shoulders bounced up with each breath in that unbroken darkness. And there was nowhere he’d rather be.
Henry backed off, leaving Tristan’s cock to fall limp. And apparently... swallowed. “You satisfied?”
“Immensely.” Tristan patted the bed, trying to still and even his breath. “Come here. By the window.” A few seconds, then Tristan felt warmth and a presence to his left. He fumbled over until he found a hard shaft, then led Henry closer, closer, up to his lips.
“You don’t have to do that. I can take care of my own stuff. Been doing it since I landed.”
