Jeff's,” said Michael. “Imagining this.” He moved behind Tristan and slid his arms around his waist, slipping the tunic wrap out of Tristan's hakama and sliding his hands under the fabric, up and up, to graze Tristan's nipples. He untied the simple garment and slid it off Tristan's shoulders, kissing skin as he uncovered it.
“Were you?” said Tristan, putting his hand over his shoulder to touch Michael's hair as Michael kissed the nape of his neck. “I think I like that.”
“Mmmhmm.” He fumbled with the fastenings on Tristan's pants. “These are different,” he said, running his hands over the ties. Tristan took his hands and walked him through it, first untying the knot in the front, then untucking the toggle, the front ties, and the obi. “There's, like, a board in there?” he asked, feeling the stiff part of the pants in the small of Tristan's back.
“Yep,” said Tristan, feeling like there was a board in front too, with Michael touching and undressing him. Baring his skin. Breathing hot breath on his neck and bare shoulders. “What about your costume? Let's get that off too.”
“What?” asked Michael.
Tristan turned and began unbuttoning Michael's dress shirt. “Seriously, you'd think a whole group of intelligent men and women could come up with something better for Halloween than business casual.”
“I guess,” agreed Michael, laughing and fighting his way out of his clothes. “Look, I wanted to say again how sorry I am that Jeff was such a shit-heel.”
“Just Jeff?” asked Tristan, his hands stopping on Michael's boxers. Michael was still toeing off his shoes so he could shed his trousers.
“No, Sparky, I have a very, very personal and detailed apology to make for my behavior, but on behalf of Jeff, because he's not likely to change, I'm just going to say sorry.”
“I'll take it,” said Tristan. “I liked Edward, his kid. My brothers would like him. I wish I could have gotten his e-mail address or something. He seemed so…isolated. I understand that half the year he stays with his mom in Denver?”
“You know more than I do, then. I just heard from Jeff that he'd gotten in trouble, smoking dope and hanging with a bad crowd. He got picked up once by the police for underage drinking.” Michael, wearing only his boxers, sat next to Tristan on the makeshift bed. The fire warmed his skin, its glow throwing interesting shadows on the wall.
“It's sad, Michael,” Tristan sighed. “The way his dad talked to him…”
“Maybe he earned it?” asked Michael. “Sometimes teenagers can be a trial even to parents that love them.”
“I'd give Jeff the benefit of the doubt, but really, the way he talked to me? Did I earn that? I didn't do anything other than knock on his door,” Tristan said, clenching his teeth. It was pretty clear he wasn't going to get over that feeling any time soon, he thought, surprised at how angry it made him. It wasn't that being disrespected was new to him, but being treated like that at a party based on his looks and perceived relationship with his date was. “He treated me like a rent-boy.”
“He did,” agreed Michael, who stretched out and watched him carefully.
“Am I likely to get that a lot?” he asked, thinking Michael would know what he was in for with his own friends.
“What, you mean, people treating you like arm candy? Probably. I think you're pretty.” He batted his eyes.
“Michael,” Tristan warned.
“No, really. I'm older, you're still in school, good-looking, and there's probably financial inequality. Yeah, you're a rent-boy all right.” If Michael hadn't been smiling and trying to grab his balls when he said that, Tristan wouldn't have taken it as well.
“I'll be your rent-boy,” said Tristan, straddling Michael. “I like being your arm candy.” The way Michael was looking at him right then sent his blood thundering down to his cock.
“Were you?” said Tristan, putting his hand over his shoulder to touch Michael's hair as Michael kissed the nape of his neck. “I think I like that.”
“Mmmhmm.” He fumbled with the fastenings on Tristan's pants. “These are different,” he said, running his hands over the ties. Tristan took his hands and walked him through it, first untying the knot in the front, then untucking the toggle, the front ties, and the obi. “There's, like, a board in there?” he asked, feeling the stiff part of the pants in the small of Tristan's back.
“Yep,” said Tristan, feeling like there was a board in front too, with Michael touching and undressing him. Baring his skin. Breathing hot breath on his neck and bare shoulders. “What about your costume? Let's get that off too.”
“What?” asked Michael.
Tristan turned and began unbuttoning Michael's dress shirt. “Seriously, you'd think a whole group of intelligent men and women could come up with something better for Halloween than business casual.”
“I guess,” agreed Michael, laughing and fighting his way out of his clothes. “Look, I wanted to say again how sorry I am that Jeff was such a shit-heel.”
“Just Jeff?” asked Tristan, his hands stopping on Michael's boxers. Michael was still toeing off his shoes so he could shed his trousers.
“No, Sparky, I have a very, very personal and detailed apology to make for my behavior, but on behalf of Jeff, because he's not likely to change, I'm just going to say sorry.”
“I'll take it,” said Tristan. “I liked Edward, his kid. My brothers would like him. I wish I could have gotten his e-mail address or something. He seemed so…isolated. I understand that half the year he stays with his mom in Denver?”
“You know more than I do, then. I just heard from Jeff that he'd gotten in trouble, smoking dope and hanging with a bad crowd. He got picked up once by the police for underage drinking.” Michael, wearing only his boxers, sat next to Tristan on the makeshift bed. The fire warmed his skin, its glow throwing interesting shadows on the wall.
“It's sad, Michael,” Tristan sighed. “The way his dad talked to him…”
“Maybe he earned it?” asked Michael. “Sometimes teenagers can be a trial even to parents that love them.”
“I'd give Jeff the benefit of the doubt, but really, the way he talked to me? Did I earn that? I didn't do anything other than knock on his door,” Tristan said, clenching his teeth. It was pretty clear he wasn't going to get over that feeling any time soon, he thought, surprised at how angry it made him. It wasn't that being disrespected was new to him, but being treated like that at a party based on his looks and perceived relationship with his date was. “He treated me like a rent-boy.”
“He did,” agreed Michael, who stretched out and watched him carefully.
“Am I likely to get that a lot?” he asked, thinking Michael would know what he was in for with his own friends.
“What, you mean, people treating you like arm candy? Probably. I think you're pretty.” He batted his eyes.
“Michael,” Tristan warned.
“No, really. I'm older, you're still in school, good-looking, and there's probably financial inequality. Yeah, you're a rent-boy all right.” If Michael hadn't been smiling and trying to grab his balls when he said that, Tristan wouldn't have taken it as well.
“I'll be your rent-boy,” said Tristan, straddling Michael. “I like being your arm candy.” The way Michael was looking at him right then sent his blood thundering down to his cock.
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