sexual incompatibility even if they hadn’t.
He could get behind that, he supposed, certainly with the
income possibilities it opened up, though he was studying
bloody hard for his exams and thus had cut back on the
work. He didn’t need slow nights like this at al . He was too 3
skint. And his landlord was an arsehole, one of those buy-to-let vampires that kept increasing rents at least every year but consistently failed to get even the most basic repairs done.
Though, it was really hard to think about broken fridges
when he watched Tristan walk. Jared just hoped he looked
even half as nonchalant when he planted himself down in the booth next to Tristan.
Well, if there was a silver lining to all this boredom, it was that it did create an opportunity for Jared to get to know Tristan. Usually work didn’t leave enough time for more than the most superficial socialising with the other employees, so he knew nothing about the guy. Except that he was hot and
popular. Tristan might not even be his real name. The only thing he could safely assume was that Tristan’s slouching
petulance likely meant he had never managed to hold down a minimum-wage job at Tesco. They tended to like people more eager and awake in those pathetic cashier jobs. Tristan would probably just turn around and saunter off if he got shit from a customer. And jobs like that bred boredom, something for which Tristan obviously had no tolerance.
Jared toyed with his straw. He still couldn’t quite believe he was sitting here next to Tristan. At Tristan’s invitation, no less. He tried not to flatter himself; Tristan hadn’t sought him out in a crowd. Jared had just been the nearest bendable ear without a john trying to climb into his lap.
Jared chased an ice cube around in his glass. “So. Um.
Doing anything for Christmas?”
Tristan shrugged as he leaned back in the booth. He slung
one arm across the back of the seat, almost touching Jared’s goose bump–covered shoulders. “Probably working here.”
He grinned, and his wink fucked with Jared’s blood pressure.
“You might want to do the same.”
4
“On Christmas?” Jared shook his head. “No way. My
family would string me up.”
“If you didn’t show up? Or if they knew you were here?”
“Both. God. I can just see that. ‘Sorry, Mum and Dad, I’ll be sucking cock on Christmas Eve.’”
Tristan laughed, slim lips pul ing across perfect teeth.
“But think of the lovely gifts you could buy them! They’d just be a little . . . late.”
“I’ll pass,” Jared said. “Maybe next year.”
“Well, you’ll be missing out. This place gets busy as fuck on Christmas.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Not at al .” Tristan paused to sip his drink. “All those
bankers and traders and managers who’ve worked so hard their wives have left them?” He waved a hand at their surroundings.
“We ought to hang up stockings on the bar, put up a bloody tree, and have Saint Fucking Nick show up.”
Jared laughed. “Can you imagine a Christmas party in
this place?”
Tristan chuckled, his mood lightening a little. “Wrap all
of us lads in garland, paint candy cane stripes on our cocks.
Wouldn’t that be a sight?”
“Could hang ornaments off all the boys with piercings.”
Jared nodded towards Nick, one of the Dominants currently
working his way into some john’s wallet. “I could see him with a couple of coloured balls hanging off his nipples.”
Tristan choked on his drink.
“Sorry,” Jared said, laughing behind his hand.
“Well played.” Tristan coughed a couple of times. “And I
dare you to suggest that to Nick.”
Jared started to speak, but movement beside him caught
his attention—a john, maybe? He turned, and leather creaking 5
behind him told him Tristan had shifted a little. Maybe not sat up, but moved.
The john was in his late thirties, Jared guessed. Good
looking. Short hair, probably light brown, though it was hard to tell with the dim
He could get behind that, he supposed, certainly with the
income possibilities it opened up, though he was studying
bloody hard for his exams and thus had cut back on the
work. He didn’t need slow nights like this at al . He was too 3
skint. And his landlord was an arsehole, one of those buy-to-let vampires that kept increasing rents at least every year but consistently failed to get even the most basic repairs done.
Though, it was really hard to think about broken fridges
when he watched Tristan walk. Jared just hoped he looked
even half as nonchalant when he planted himself down in the booth next to Tristan.
Well, if there was a silver lining to all this boredom, it was that it did create an opportunity for Jared to get to know Tristan. Usually work didn’t leave enough time for more than the most superficial socialising with the other employees, so he knew nothing about the guy. Except that he was hot and
popular. Tristan might not even be his real name. The only thing he could safely assume was that Tristan’s slouching
petulance likely meant he had never managed to hold down a minimum-wage job at Tesco. They tended to like people more eager and awake in those pathetic cashier jobs. Tristan would probably just turn around and saunter off if he got shit from a customer. And jobs like that bred boredom, something for which Tristan obviously had no tolerance.
Jared toyed with his straw. He still couldn’t quite believe he was sitting here next to Tristan. At Tristan’s invitation, no less. He tried not to flatter himself; Tristan hadn’t sought him out in a crowd. Jared had just been the nearest bendable ear without a john trying to climb into his lap.
Jared chased an ice cube around in his glass. “So. Um.
Doing anything for Christmas?”
Tristan shrugged as he leaned back in the booth. He slung
one arm across the back of the seat, almost touching Jared’s goose bump–covered shoulders. “Probably working here.”
He grinned, and his wink fucked with Jared’s blood pressure.
“You might want to do the same.”
4
“On Christmas?” Jared shook his head. “No way. My
family would string me up.”
“If you didn’t show up? Or if they knew you were here?”
“Both. God. I can just see that. ‘Sorry, Mum and Dad, I’ll be sucking cock on Christmas Eve.’”
Tristan laughed, slim lips pul ing across perfect teeth.
“But think of the lovely gifts you could buy them! They’d just be a little . . . late.”
“I’ll pass,” Jared said. “Maybe next year.”
“Well, you’ll be missing out. This place gets busy as fuck on Christmas.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Not at al .” Tristan paused to sip his drink. “All those
bankers and traders and managers who’ve worked so hard their wives have left them?” He waved a hand at their surroundings.
“We ought to hang up stockings on the bar, put up a bloody tree, and have Saint Fucking Nick show up.”
Jared laughed. “Can you imagine a Christmas party in
this place?”
Tristan chuckled, his mood lightening a little. “Wrap all
of us lads in garland, paint candy cane stripes on our cocks.
Wouldn’t that be a sight?”
“Could hang ornaments off all the boys with piercings.”
Jared nodded towards Nick, one of the Dominants currently
working his way into some john’s wallet. “I could see him with a couple of coloured balls hanging off his nipples.”
Tristan choked on his drink.
“Sorry,” Jared said, laughing behind his hand.
“Well played.” Tristan coughed a couple of times. “And I
dare you to suggest that to Nick.”
Jared started to speak, but movement beside him caught
his attention—a john, maybe? He turned, and leather creaking 5
behind him told him Tristan had shifted a little. Maybe not sat up, but moved.
The john was in his late thirties, Jared guessed. Good
looking. Short hair, probably light brown, though it was hard to tell with the dim
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