NINE

 

The words stretched between them, and the moment that they were out, Grant could see that Tristan, part of him, anyway, regretted them. The part that tried to stay cool, aloof, the part that pushed people away with snarky comments and a superior act, the part that was strangely fragile and proud.

For whatever reason, it hadn’t taken very long for Grant to see past that act. He had seen other people respond to Tristan, and he knew that not everyone could, but Grant had. So when Tristan recoiled back a little bit, Grant let him, though he didn’t stop holding him.

It must have been terrifying for Tristan to admit to that, he realized. One of the first things Tristan had ever said to him was that he didn’t date. So those words, admitting that Grant meant something to him, it might not seem like a huge deal to a lot of people, but Grant knew.

Tristan was saying that he liked him. And for Grant, who had been sort of terrified that the simple, plain date that he had planned wouldn’t be enough, it was a huge relief to know that Tristan had liked it enough to say words that were hard for him.

“Let’s go home,” Grant murmured. He would have liked to ask Tristan to say the words again, because he knew he would hold them close to himself, right in his romantic heart. Later on, when things inevitably got to be challenging between himself and Tristan, when Tristan’s habit of pushing people away maybe even started to work on Grant, he could have those words, and the look in Tristan’s eyes, to remind himself that something real had happened here.

He could barely hear his own soft words over the pounding of his heart, the rushing of his blood through his veins. He knew what he was saying, what he was offering, and he had no reason to believe that Tristan wouldn’t take his offer.

For his first time having sex, though, he had wanted someone who he cared about. Someone who didn’t want just sex. Tristan was giving that to him, and that made it easier to do this. The important thing, really, he had come to realize, was that he cared about the person, and believe that he was cared for in return.

He had that. Looking into Tristan’s eyes, he knew it. So he was willing to do this, eager, even, despite the natural nerves. What would this be like? His body wanted it, he knew that much, and he knew that he could trust Tristan to make it good.

“No,” Tristan replied, and this time, when he stepped away, Grant let him. The lust which had been pleasantly building couldn’t stand up to the way his stomach clenched. Was Tristan turning him down now? Had he had second thoughts, now that Grant was here and willing? “I have a better idea.”

Confused now, Grant let himself be led back to where they had left their shoes. From there, they walked the short distance to a hotel, the sort of place where it immediately became clear that Grant could never usually go to. He simply wouldn’t be able to afford it, this waterfront hotel, and he shrunk back a little, folding up into himself as he glanced around the lush, carpeted room, large and luxurious, with crystal chandeliers and marble and expensive art everywhere.

The amount of money that it had cost to build this place must have been staggering. And the price which Tristan was quoted for a single night staying here utterly blew Grant’s mind. Most of the rooms were booked, Tristan was told, by a man who managed to be both obsequious toward Tristan and derisive toward Grant, like he knew Grant didn’t belong here. There were only the west-facing rooms, the most expensive ones, which were available.

Well, there went that idea, or so he would have thought. Tristan paid for the room without a qualm, and, with a feeling of dread deep in his belly, a feeling like someone was going to kick him out, was going to accuse him of not belonging there, Grant followed Tristan’s confident steps toward the elevator.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Grant told him, his voice small and quiet as the mirrored elevator rose up. How was it possible for an elevator to be fancy? But this one was, with gold accents all over the place. “We could have just gone home.”

Tristan shook his head, and there was this smile on his face, a real, true smile. Tristan smirked a lot, but it was rare that he actually smiled, and in a second, Tristan was pressed against Grant, pressing him against the wall of the elevator and holding him tightly as he rested his head on Grant’s chest.

The worry disappeared, for now. It would be back, he knew, but with Tristan’s head resting on his shoulder, with Tristan’s arms around him, it didn’t seem to matter as much how they had gotten here. They were here, and it was enough.

“I wanted our first time to be somewhere where we didn’t have to worry,” Tristan explained simply. To him, money wasn’t something that needed to be worried about or hoarded. He never had to concern himself with making the rent, and to him, it would seem like the most logical thing in the world to get this hotel room, no matter the cost.

The difference between them, between the way they had been raised, had never loomed so sharply in Grant as it did then. The pressure of Tristan’s body against his own helped, but only a little.

No one would ever approve of this match. Tristan’s parents would be horrified, and Grant’s mother, who had scratched and clawed for everything that she’d ever gotten, wouldn’t understand how Tristan lived at all.

Grant had tried to tell himself that he wouldn’t push Tristan on this. But when they stepped out of the elevator, and they walked down a short hallway and into a luxurious suite, not even just a single room but an actual full suite that was bigger than the apartments where Grant had grown up, he suddenly just needed to know.

“Are we together?”

He forced his voice to be strong, not plaintive. He was just asking a question because he needed to know. He really didn’t want to pressure Tristan into anything, and he opened his mouth to tell him so, but then Tristan was smiling at him, and his eyes were glowing warmly, sweet and sentimental in a way that Grant would have once thought wasn’t even possible for him.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “But you know it’s gotta be a secret, right?”

Grant was romantic, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew the score. Tristan wouldn’t want anyone to know, or else it might get back to his father. Tristan hadn’t even talked about his parents much, but Grant thought he had picked up a fair bit about them regardless.

“I know,” Grant replied, and he didn’t like it. Part of him would much prefer to be able to walk around campus holding Tristan’s hand if he wanted to. For people to know that Tristan was his, and he was Tristan’s and that there was no point in anyone else going after them.

But having Tristan in his life at all, having a commitment from him, was more than worth some secrecy.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, and to Grant, it felt like they were both silently asking the other if this was really going to happen. It seemed like it almost had so many times that Grant was sort of waiting for something to interrupt.

Maybe Tristan had had the right idea, after all, because there was no one in this room but him and Tristan, no one else who would dare just to walk in. No risk at all, nothing stopping them from doing what they both wanted.

“Kiss me,” Grant whispered, and the two words might not quite be a plea, but they were pretty close. Once Tristan was kissing him, he knew that he would be able to be swept away. That all of his nerves, all of his uncertainty about this relationship, about what it would mean to have a secret boyfriend, a rich boyfriend, could just fade into the background for a little while.

Grant wanted this. He had never before wanted anyone to be his first, but with Tristan, it was like Grant just knew. This was the right person, the right time, and he just wanted all of the nerves to go away so that he could enjoy it.

Tristan smiled, and something flickered in those dark eyes, something that almost, just for a moment, looked like he might be nervous, too. Surely not, though. Grant was under no illusions about Tristan’s experience level, and he figured it was probably good that one of them knew what they were doing.

But then why would Tristan be nervous? This was nothing that he hadn’t done before.

Then there wasn’t any more thinking. No more worrying, just as Grant had known would happen. Tristan was there, stepping into Grant’s embrace, and this time, there was nothing holding them back. No reason that they couldn’t touch each other as much as they wanted.

They kissed, lips opening and tongues tangling, more of them starting out a little tentative but it wasn’t long until they were pressing close. Tristan’s fingers were immediately drawn to Grant’s shirt buttons, and Grant felt the caress of cool air on his chest as his shirt was pushed off of his shoulders to fall carelessly to the floor.

The kiss broke, and from watching movies Grant had somehow gotten the idea that making love involved kissing pretty much the whole time. But the connection between his eyes and Tristan’s made him second guess that. It was so much better to be able to see the flush rise to Tristan’s cheeks, to see the way that his eyes darkened, his lips parted with his rapid breathing.

Tristan reached around, and his hands pushed down into Grant’s pants, right down to his bare skin, under even his boxers. For the first time, Grant felt the grip of fingers against himself, felt the firm grasp of hands on his bare skin, and it felt suddenly like his legs were going to give out under him.

“Wait, hold on just a second,” Grant whispered because he had hoped that he would get swept away by desire and he was. It was actually a little too much, a little too intense and overwhelming, and they had barely started.

“I want you,” Tristan whispered, and he did back away, just a little bit, though his hands were still on Grant’s vulnerable bare ass. “Just go with it, for once. Let me make you feel good.”

Grant was drowning, utterly lost in the smooth, seductive purr of that voice, the gleam in Tristan’s eyes. He had been fighting against these feelings for so long, but something inside him burst suddenly, releasing everything that he had been holding back, and suddenly, he realized that his body knew what it wanted and had the whole time.

Once he let himself relax, once he let himself feel what he was feeling, it was so easy. There was a surrender to it, a giving in, and natural melding of his own body with Tristan’s. He pushed his leg forward, eager to get closer to him, and it slipped between Tristan’s legs like it belonged there.

“Good. Yes. Do that,” Tristan encouraged, and the way his hips tilted and pressed and grinded, it was so obvious how hard he was. He was rubbing that erection right against Grant’s leg, and the feel of that thickness, that hardness, against him made him hungry, desperate, for more.

Tristan was so wonderfully responsive. It was impossible not to know when he liked something because he was just as demanding and just as vocal when he was being sexual as he was all the rest of the time. It only seemed to spur Grant on, and suddenly, he had just had enough.

For just a second, he stepped back. His fingers fumbled a little bit, but he was shaking with desire, not fear or nerves. Inexperienced or not, he tugged Tristan’s shirt off of him and then worked open his jeans, after a few tries. Tristan’s clothes fell to the floor, and just like that, the beautiful man was standing, completely naked, right in front of him.

He had known that Tristan was lovely and desirable, but he hadn’t really been prepared for seeing him nude. It wasn’t like Grant hadn’t seen naked men, because of course, he had. He was an athlete, and the changing room was full of naked men. But Tristan was aroused, his cock hard and leaking all over itself, a dark red that was almost a purple and glistening at the tip.

A naked man was one thing, but a naked man who was turned on? A naked man that Grant was falling in love with? That was a whole different level, and Tristan was so small, so slender, so very stunning. So different from the other men in the locker room, not just physically by in every way.

Tristan tilted his chin up proudly, and that defensive smirk came onto his lips once more. For a while, Tristan had let his shields down, but they were back up at full strength within a split second.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”

With just those few words, Grant suddenly got it. Tristan was worried that he was being judged, probably unfavorably, when it couldn’t have been further from the truth, and once Grant could see that the defensive urge in himself just died away.

“But I like what I see,” Grant murmured, and he reached out, brushing his fingertip over one soft little brown nipple. He watched in amazement as it hardened with the stimulation, seemingly begging for more.

Immediately, Tristan’s tense shoulders visibly softened, and Grant tugged him close again. He leaned down and teased a soft kiss out of the other man, then, while Tristan was off guard from that, Grant picked his small body up into his arms and carried him bridal-style toward the bed.

“Really?” Tristan practically purred, taking that pretty easily. He couldn’t be exactly used to being picked up by other men, but he wrapped his arms around Grant’s neck and kissed at it, nibbling at his jaw, his earlobe, and then nipping at his neck hard enough that Grant gasped and ended up nearly dropping Tristan on the bed. He managed, just barely, to set him down gently, and then took the chance just to look down at him.

That beautiful body was laid out for him, all for him. His boyfriend, soon to officially be his lover, was giving him a look that was almost coy now, and intensely flirtatious. Now that Tristan was convinced that Grant wanted him, it seemed that he was much more willing to let his confidence back.

“Yeah. You’re beautiful,” Grant admitted, because it was nothing but the truth. He let Tristan reach for him, allowed his pants to be loosened, though he hissed softly as those deft, talented fingers brushed over the throbbing length of his erection. And as brief and light as it was, that touch was still almost enough for Grant to shoot off already.

“Go slower,” Grant whispered, even as he kicked his pants aside and stood naked in front of Tristan, who was no longer lying on the bed but had risen to sit on the edge of it. “Please. I’m too close.”

It was humiliating, in a way, that even the little that they’d done was enough to have him right on the edge. If he wasn’t careful, this was going to be over almost before it started. Somehow, when he’d thought about doing this, he had thought he would be able to last a little bit longer.

“I’ve wanted to do this for weeks,” Tristan admitted. His strong, sure hand wrapped around the base of Grant’s dick, and Grant tensed and groaned as a trickle of precome streamed from him. “Relax. We have all night, and I’ve seen you on the field. You have stamina. You can go more than once.”

Was Tristan trying to kill him? The way he said that it was a blatant erotic challenge, and one that Grant had the feeling he was going to end up exhausting himself to meet. But as long as he exhausted Tristan, too, he would be okay with that.

Tristan had been waiting, just holding Grant’s cock, not stroking and not leaning further in. When Grant nodded, though, Tristan shifted so that he was perched on the edge of the incredibly soft-looking bed, slipping between Grant’s legs and gripping his ass once more.

Nothing could have prepared him for what it felt like to have full, soft lips brushing over the slick head of his cock. Oh, Grant had heard the talks, the boasting about who had gotten a blowjob recently, and how amazing it had been, but he had thought that was probably just the typical bragging that he heard all the time in the locker room.

Now that he was here, though, he had to admit that they had, if anything, understated how good it would feel. Tristan’s lush lips were parting, and his tongue slipped out to tease lightly at the broad, blunt head of Grant’s erection. There was this magic spot right under the head of his cock that he had never known about, and without even meaning to, he was gripping at Tristan’s head, hissing as he was taken deeper and deeper.

Tristan’s groan was the first sign that he had that he was actually potentially hurting the other, smaller man. But when Grant guiltily forced his hands to relax, Tristan actually shot him a reproachful look, like he hadn’t minded being held down like Grant had been doing.

“Oh God,” Grant whispered because this was just too much. Too good, too perfect, so much more intense than even his fevered imaginings had made it. And a lot of that was Tristan, who didn’t mind if Grant was a little rough with him, who seemed to thrive on it if anything.

It wasn’t the first time that he’d come, but with the force of it ripping through his body, it was definitely the most intense. It made him feel as though nothing that he had done to himself before even really counted, like it was nothing but playing, like he hadn’t even really known what pleasure was until Tristan showed him.

For a moment, he lost himself, rutting between Tristan’s lips until he spilled inside of him, feeling a deep, primal surge of satisfaction as he pumped him full. And Tristan seemed to adore it, too, moaning, his mouth and throat working so that Grant, to his shock, realized that he was actually swallowing him down.

“Tristan, I’m sorry,” he whispered. He had gotten way, way too rough with him at the end, but Tristan just pulled away from Grant’s cock, wiping his lips, which were deliciously plump and swollen after that had happened there.

“Don’t be. But you’d better not think you’re done,” Tristan informed him, and Grant groaned as Tristan slipped on top of him. Grant’s arms pulled the smaller man close, and despite how sensitive his cock was, he still couldn’t help but push up against Tristan when he felt the other man’s dick, so hard, so swollen, leaking precome, all over Grant’s hip.

“I don’t think that.” Grant hesitated, just for a moment, as he thought this out. Did he really want to do this? There would be no coming back from it if he did, but honestly, he sort of felt like he was at that point already. There wasn’t actually that much to think about.

“How do you want to—” Tristan was already talking, but Grant knew, by now, that if he let him continue, Tristan would babble on for hours. In that time, anything might happen. Grant might lose his nerve, and he really didn’t want to do that.

So he did something that didn’t usually come naturally to him. He interrupted, he cut Tristan off, a gentle finger laid against those lush, sweet lips.

“I want you,” Grant told him, and he searched Tristan’s eyes, seeking out some sign that he really was doing the right thing. “Inside of me. I know it will hurt, but—”

It was Tristan who cut him off this time, and Grant, who had been about to start doing some babbling himself, was only too glad to stop talking before he made a complete idiot of himself. Assuming, of course, that he hadn’t already done that.

“It won’t hurt,” Tristan vowed, and there was a look in his dark eyes that Grant found himself trusting. He nodded, breathless suddenly, and watched as Tristan slipped down his body, taking his time, though Grant had felt how hard Tristan was and knew that it was remarkable that he could hold himself back.

Once more, Tristan’s lips slipped over Grant’s cock, but this time, they didn’t stay there. They shifted down over his balls, and then Tristan pushed Grant’s legs apart, but not just to the side. He held them up and out of the way, and for the first time in his life, Grant was open, vulnerable, to someone else.

“Tristan?” Grant whispered, not sure what to expect. From what he’d heard, anal sex should involve a lot more, well, cock up inside of him. And he did want it, but had he made it clear? Did Tristan know that …

Oh God.

Tristan was between the cheeks of Grant’s ass, his tongue swirling over the impossibly sensitive, tight entrance to his body, where no one had ever touched before. All of a sudden, Grant forgot his question entirely, and just whimpered softly as he gripped his own legs behind the knee and tried to draw them back out of the way.

Slowly, Grant was prepared. Tristan took his time so that Grant was desperate for each and every step until he felt like he was going crazy—like he needed it. First a tongue, and then slender fingers probed him, gently pushing inside of him, inch by inch. One finger, and then two, and then both fingers pressed against a spot that made Grant’s whole body tense up and throb, made his cock, which had fully recovered by now, ache with need.

Two impish dark eyes peered up at him, intent but filled with mischief, and it was then that Grant realized that Tristan wasn’t going to give him more. Not yet, anyway. Not until Grant, what, begged for it? It seemed that way.

The struggle about that lasted only a few seconds. His ass was clenching around those fingers, and already, it felt like it wasn’t enough, not even close to enough. The way that he was being fucked so slowly, so carefully, it was just enough to drive him wild. He could probably even come if he let himself.

But this wasn’t how he wanted to come. He wanted to feel what all the fuss was about with sex, what it would be like to be truly and deeply connected with this man that he cared about.

“Now,” he gasped, and was briefly stunned by how rough and hoarse his voice came out, how obvious his need was as he spoke. “Tristan, now. Inside me, fuck me!”

Tristan grinned, and his tongue and lips had been teasing at Grant’s cock as he slowly fucked Grant with his fingers, but he pulled away to shoot Grant a maddening, teasing little look. It was harder than usual to mind.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before,” Tristan murmured, and then, unbelievably, he was pulling away from Grant entirely. Had Grant actually driven him off? Or was Tristan playing some other game here?

Neither. Tristan was just going into his pocket, pulling out a crinkly silver packet that even Grant recognized as a condom. There was another shiny little thing, too, another packet, that Grant didn’t know how to name, but he found out soon enough.

The condom was on, and the sheer, pornographic sight of Tristan rolling the condom down over his throbbing dick was going to stay with Grant for a long time, he was sure of it. Then Tristan tore open the foil, and he dribbled something clear and glistening over himself.

“Tell me you need me,” Tristan demanded, as he slipped between Grant’s legs, still flung so wide open, which he was still holding out of the way. Grant shot Tristan a look of sheer frustration as Tristan pressed himself up against him, his sheathed cock slipping between the cheeks of Grant’s ass to the vulnerable, sensitive spot between them, but he didn’t push in.

It was tempting to give some sort of snarky comment, but then Grant looked into Tristan’s eyes, and he thought he understood a bit. Tristan was nervous, just as much as Grant was, and somehow, that helped Grant settle his own churning stomach a bit.

“I need you,” Grant told him, because it was true and because Tristan needed to hear it. “I need you so much. Take me.”

It was enough. Thank God, it was enough. Grant let out a soft groan as Tristan finally started to breach him. For the first time, he was being taken, being intimately linked with someone else, and it wasn’t at all what he thought it would be.

Or, rather, it was so much more. So much deeper, and more intense, and perfect. So much more intimate, a link between him and Tristan which could never be broken, no matter what happened between them.

Tristan had promised that it wouldn’t hurt, and he was true to his word. At first, it was a relief, because Tristan gave Grant lots of time to get used to what he was doing to him. But just like with the fingers, soon enough Grant wanted more, needed more.

“I said I need you,” Grant groaned, frustration lacing his words. “I’m not going to break. Fuck me, already.”

Tristan groaned, and it was only then that Grant realized just how much Tristan had been holding back. Selfish, spoiled Tristan had wanted nothing more than to give Grant the most incredible first time that he could have, and it was then that he started to realize that Tristan’s feelings went deeper than Grant had thought.

It was easy for him to think of Tristan as just another rich kid, someone used to getting whatever he wanted, and it was even true. But there was more to Tristan than that, something which made Grant challenge some of his own assumptions, made him uncomfortably aware that he had been doing some judging.

“Grant, you have to tell me if it hurts …” Tristan gasped out the words, and Grant nodded impatiently. Yes, he would tell him, but he thought that he would barely even feel any pain, no matter what Tristan did to him now. Everything just felt so good.

Tristan pushed deep, then withdrew all the way until just the tip of his cock was still inside Grant. He barely had time to feel the loss, because then Tristan was thrusting home again, his balls slapping against Grant’s ass.

Again, and again, Tristan did this, and by the third time, Tristan was groaning. Grant finally got to see what he wanted to see. He finally watched, and felt it, as Tristan lost control, as he slammed deep over and over again.

It only took a few seconds for Grant to cry out, and at that moment, he was very glad that they were somewhere where their frat brothers couldn’t hear them. The pleasure which rocketed through his veins, which flung him up into levels of ecstasy unlike anything he had even imagined before, would have been difficult even to start to hold back. His hoarse, desperate little cries filled the room as his completely untouched cock twitched and spurted hot come all over his own stomach.

“Tristan, Tristan, Tristan,” Grant moaned, almost chanting his name as he emptied himself, as he trembled and clenched around Tristan’s cock, greedy for all that he could give him. Seconds later, Tristan’s own face was contorted with pleasure, and he let out the sexiest moan that Grant had ever heard as he spent inside of the condom.

“Looks like you’re not a virgin anymore, babe,” Tristan informed him, and Grant couldn’t help the goofy grin that formed on his face. It was true. Not only was he not a virgin, but apparently, he was in a relationship intimate enough that Tristan would call him sweet pet names.

“Looks like I’m not,” Grant whispered and then wrapped his arms around Tristan, hauling him close, kissing him over and over. He wanted to thank him, but he didn’t really know how to say the words without seeming awkward, so he showed him instead.