Michael could see as clearly as he did that they were on the same page.
“Oh, Sparky.” Michael stroked Tristan's face with the back of his hand. “I briefly forgot how very, very shiny you can be.” He pulled a thick strand of hair free from the blue silk tie and held it to his lips, seeming to inhale it and caress it and rub his face on it at the same time. “I have a bed of sorts set up in front of the fireplace in the living room and a fire all ready to go. Please come home with me. Help me light it up, Sparky, will you?”
Tristan swallowed hard, looking at the amazing, upscale houses behind him. “After this dump? A classy establishment like yours is just what I need,” he said, finding Michael's lips, which moved in as soon as he felt the tension leave Tristan's body. For a long moment they stood like that, lips joined and tongues entwined. Tristan broke the kiss to get into his car. “By the way, Edward said he'd pay good money to see us in bed together; maybe you should write up a proposal on that for your next little investment soiree.”
“Sparky!” Michael barked with laughter on the way back to his car. He turned around with his hands over his face. “The things you say!”
Chapter Ten
It wasn't hard to follow Michael's truck down the hill and through town to his little house. Michael waved him into the driveway first, coming in behind him to sandwich his car between the house and the garage. Before Tristan even got out of the car, Michael was there, opening his door and taking him in his arms again.
“Is that your sword or are you just glad to see me?” he teased as he pulled Tristan to standing. “I can never remember that you're taller than me until we're standing like this. It's different from what I'm used to.”
“Why is that?” asked Tristan as he walked around to the trunk, opening it and removing a small duffle. “Don't like looking up?”
“No, it's not that,” said Michael. “I find I like it rather well, actually…” He took Tristan's hand and led him to the back door, using his key to open it and walking immediately to the panel to turn off the alarm. “I like it a lot.” They stood in the dark kitchen together, holding hands.
Tristan had so many plans for this moment. He'd thought in obsessive detail about what he'd do with Michael when they were alone again. Just how he'd touch him and what he'd say. But standing there with only the porch light illuminating his face in the shadows of the kitchen, each and every one of those ideas fled, and he was content to stand and watch and wait, and see if the elemental nature of their first night gave him clues about what to do on their second. Minutes seemed to be ticking by.
“Fire,” said Michael after a while, as though he'd had a long conversation in his head, but the only word that came out was that one. “Come with me.” He motioned, and Tristan followed. There in front of the fireplace was, indeed, a futon covered in soft, fluffy-looking blankets and pillows. It was far enough away from the fire to be safe from stray sparks that might fly through the chain curtain, but close enough to be warm and smoky, and Tristan longed to lose himself there with Michael.
“Here,” said Michael putting a match to the kindling he'd laid out earlier. “Sit here and let me look at you.”
Tristan sat, perversely as though he really were the character Kenshin from his comic books, his knees folded, his feet under him, his hands on his thighs, waiting.
“I've been wanting”—Michael took the blue fabric holding Tristan's hair up and pulled on it—“to do that since I saw you come through the door at Jeff's house tonight.” Tristan's hair fell to his shoulders like liquid fire. “Oh, Sparky.”
“I think…I think I'll sit here till you figure out what to do with the rest of my clothes,” said Tristan looking straight ahead.
“I was watching you at
“Oh, Sparky.” Michael stroked Tristan's face with the back of his hand. “I briefly forgot how very, very shiny you can be.” He pulled a thick strand of hair free from the blue silk tie and held it to his lips, seeming to inhale it and caress it and rub his face on it at the same time. “I have a bed of sorts set up in front of the fireplace in the living room and a fire all ready to go. Please come home with me. Help me light it up, Sparky, will you?”
Tristan swallowed hard, looking at the amazing, upscale houses behind him. “After this dump? A classy establishment like yours is just what I need,” he said, finding Michael's lips, which moved in as soon as he felt the tension leave Tristan's body. For a long moment they stood like that, lips joined and tongues entwined. Tristan broke the kiss to get into his car. “By the way, Edward said he'd pay good money to see us in bed together; maybe you should write up a proposal on that for your next little investment soiree.”
“Sparky!” Michael barked with laughter on the way back to his car. He turned around with his hands over his face. “The things you say!”
Chapter Ten
It wasn't hard to follow Michael's truck down the hill and through town to his little house. Michael waved him into the driveway first, coming in behind him to sandwich his car between the house and the garage. Before Tristan even got out of the car, Michael was there, opening his door and taking him in his arms again.
“Is that your sword or are you just glad to see me?” he teased as he pulled Tristan to standing. “I can never remember that you're taller than me until we're standing like this. It's different from what I'm used to.”
“Why is that?” asked Tristan as he walked around to the trunk, opening it and removing a small duffle. “Don't like looking up?”
“No, it's not that,” said Michael. “I find I like it rather well, actually…” He took Tristan's hand and led him to the back door, using his key to open it and walking immediately to the panel to turn off the alarm. “I like it a lot.” They stood in the dark kitchen together, holding hands.
Tristan had so many plans for this moment. He'd thought in obsessive detail about what he'd do with Michael when they were alone again. Just how he'd touch him and what he'd say. But standing there with only the porch light illuminating his face in the shadows of the kitchen, each and every one of those ideas fled, and he was content to stand and watch and wait, and see if the elemental nature of their first night gave him clues about what to do on their second. Minutes seemed to be ticking by.
“Fire,” said Michael after a while, as though he'd had a long conversation in his head, but the only word that came out was that one. “Come with me.” He motioned, and Tristan followed. There in front of the fireplace was, indeed, a futon covered in soft, fluffy-looking blankets and pillows. It was far enough away from the fire to be safe from stray sparks that might fly through the chain curtain, but close enough to be warm and smoky, and Tristan longed to lose himself there with Michael.
“Here,” said Michael putting a match to the kindling he'd laid out earlier. “Sit here and let me look at you.”
Tristan sat, perversely as though he really were the character Kenshin from his comic books, his knees folded, his feet under him, his hands on his thighs, waiting.
“I've been wanting”—Michael took the blue fabric holding Tristan's hair up and pulled on it—“to do that since I saw you come through the door at Jeff's house tonight.” Tristan's hair fell to his shoulders like liquid fire. “Oh, Sparky.”
“I think…I think I'll sit here till you figure out what to do with the rest of my clothes,” said Tristan looking straight ahead.
“I was watching you at
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