23. Tristan
TWENTY-THREE
TRISTAN
"Really? You're listening to this trash?" he teases.
"Excuse you!" I retort, hands on my hips. "This is quality music. But if you want me to listen to old people music, then bring it on."
"Challenge accepted." Myles whips out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and scrolls through his music library.
"Sounds like Mariah Carey," I say, as the singer dubbed the Queen of Christmas belts out a tune.
"Darn right it is." Myles shoves his phone back into his pocket.
"I've never heard this song before."
"You haven't?" Myles's eyes are so wide, they look comical.
"It's One Sweet Day, with Boyz II Men, one of the best collabs in music history.
" He has this faraway look on his face as if he's reminiscing about the “good ole days” as the old folks—pun intended—say.
"It was released in 1995," he continues.
"I can remember fourteen-year-old me listening to this song like it was yesterday. "
"Oh my God, dude!" Roaring with laughter, I’m barely able to get my next words out. "That's the year I was born."
"Keep rubbing it in, dude." Myles's eyes spark with humor. "I'll admit it; I'm a dinosaur."
I sneak in close to him and steal a kiss. "But you're my dinosaur."
"And you're my sweetheart." Myles slides his fingers up my nape and tangles them in my hair.
"For you, I want to be everything." Could my heart get any fuller?
The depth of feeling I have for this man sometimes astounds me.
Every day it seems like my heart grows bigger and bigger with the love I have for him.
I've never opened my heart to give and receive love like this before. Having lost my parents at such a young age, it’s made me fearful that I might put my heart in someone's hands only to have them die on me again. I’m honestly not sure my heart could take that.
Cupping my cheeks with his palms, Myles presses the softest of kisses to my lips. "Your heart is safe with me, sweetheart."
What can I say to that? It’s as if he’s read my mind and seen my deepest, darkest fears.
Tears threaten to fall—not tears of physical or emotional pain, but tears of relief.
The tears don’t come, though, simply because my man chooses to lighten the moment with the next song. And it’s a lightness I welcome.
"Now tell me, what do you think about this one?" Myles asks me, giving me a cocky smile like he just knows I’m going to love this song.
God only knows what he’s going to be blasting through the speakers next, so I decide to play with him a little bit when the song starts. "Now this is what I call music… that puts me to sleep." I pretend to yawn, stretching out my arms.
"Watch it, mister," Myles warns, poking me in the side as we sway together, laughing and having a great time despite my teasing.
"Admit it, you secretly love this song," Myles whispers in my ear, sparking a heated reaction in my body.
"Maybe," I concede with a wink. "But only because I’m listening to it with you."
As Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" fills the room, Myles pulls me close, our bodies pressed together as we begin to slow dance. Our eyes lock, and I’m struck by how incredibly sexy he looks despite being dressed simply in khaki shorts and a dark-green polo shirt.
His strong arms wrap around me, and the intensity of his gaze sends blood rushing to my cheeks… and other places.
We grind against each other, our growing erections noticeable even through the fabric of our clothes. The friction combined with the emotional connection sends waves of pleasure coursing through me. I lean in, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss that leaves us both breathless.
"God, I can't get enough of you," Myles murmurs into my ear, his voice husky and filled with desire. The sound of it makes my dick twitch.
"Same," I admit, our lips brushing. Our hands roam each other's bodies—teasing, touching, exploring.
It's erotic and sensual, the dance becoming an extension of our growing connection.
Everything around us fades away until it's just Myles and me, lost in each other's embrace, dancing to a love song that perfectly encapsulates how I feel about him.
"Promise you'll always be mine," I whisper, half-joking but also entirely serious.
"Forever," he promises, sealing it with a searing kiss that leaves me dizzy.
I can't take it anymore. The intensity of our dance, the way our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces—the desire coursing through my veins is almost unbearable. I grab Myles's hand and practically drag him toward the bathroom.
"Shower," I pant, desperate for relief. "Now."
"Bossy, aren't you?" he teases, but his eyes are dark with lust, and he doesn't hesitate to follow my lead.
We strip each other quickly, hands shaking with anticipation. Every touch sends shivers down my spine, and I struggle with the button and zipper on his shorts. God, why are there so many contraptions on clothes?
"Need some help there, hotshot?" Myles whispers, his breath warm on my neck as he reaches around me to undo the button and zipper himself. I groan in response.
Finally, we're both naked, and the sight of Myles's toned body leaves me breathless. I turn the shower on, the water steaming up the glass door immediately. We step inside, and the hot spray cascades over our needy bodies.
"Fugg, Tristan." Myles gasps as I press him against the slick tiles, my lips finding his.
Our tongues dance, mimicking the rhythm we'd shared moments before. When we finally break apart, breathless, I gently turn him to face the tiled shower wall. And I can’t stop myself from giving his pert little ass a squeeze.
Reaching for the lube, I make short work of opening up Myles's ass.
Then with hands gripping his hips, I position myself behind him, guiding my aching cock to his entrance.
"You ready?" I ask, needing to hear him say it.
Hearing his husky voice beg so sweetly for me to do all manner of dirty things to and with him makes me feel mushy inside… in all the best ways.
"Please," he rasps, and that's all I need to hear. I push forward, entering him slowly, allowing him time to adjust to the fullness. His forehead drops forward to the wall, a moan escaping his lips.
God, he feels incredible.
"Move," Myles commands, his voice thick with desire. I comply, thrusting into him gently at first, then building in intensity as our bodies find their rhythm. The water beats down on us, adding to the symphony of our moans and gasps.
"Tristan, oh fugg." Myles breathes, his eyes squeezed shut as he groans out his pleasure. "Don't stop."
"Never," I promise, my own pleasure building with every thrust. "You're perfect, baby. So perfect."
Our bodies collide, the sound of wet skin slapping together echoing in the small space. It's primal, raw, everything I've ever wanted and more. And then, suddenly, I'm there. And I’m careening over that edge I've been teetering on for what feels like hours.
"Ah, Mylessss!" I cry out as I come, filling him with my cum. My vision goes white, bliss washing over me like a tidal wave.
As I slowly come back to my senses, I lower myself to my knees, still panting from my orgasm, and I quickly turn Myles to face me. When it comes to Myles, I’m always greedy, always wanting more—wanting to taste him, to worship him.
"Your turn," I murmur, taking his throbbing cock into my mouth. He groans, his hands tangling in my wet hair, guiding me as I suck him off.
"Tristan, oh god, yes," he moans, his hips rocking gently into my mouth. I work him expertly, using my tongue and lips to bring him closer and closer to the edge.
"Tristan, I'm gonna..." he warns, his breathing ragged. I don't let up, determined to swallow every last drop of him.
With a final cry, Myles comes, spilling himself into my mouth. I greedily swallow, savoring the taste of him. It's intimate, intense—one of the million little moments with him I'll cherish forever.
"Delicious," I say with a smirk, looking up at him through my lashes. Myles laughs, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
"God, I love you." Myles pulls me up for a searing kiss.
"Love you too," I reply, my heart swelling with happiness. As we stand there under the cascading water, our bodies pressed together, I feel like the luckiest man alive.
When we’re done, we wrap ourselves in towels, their lavender-scented fragrance wafting in the air. Myles and I step out of the bathroom, still flushed from our steamy shower. "Here," I say, tossing him a t-shirt and some sweats. He catches them effortlessly, a grin spreading across his face.
"Thanks," he replies, pulling the shirt over his damp hair and then sliding on the sweats. I do the same.
We crawl into bed, the soft sheets a cool contrast against our warm skin. I reach for the book on my nightstand—one of my beloved gay romance novels. "Let's read together," I suggest. Myles raises an eyebrow, curious but game.
"Sure, why not?" he agrees, settling in beside me.
I give him the Cliff Notes of the best-friends-to-lovers romance I've been binge reading.
Then we take turns reading aloud. Some of the scenes we read together, and our voices blend together like music.
It's intimate, sharing something I enjoy doing with him, and I can't help but feel a little vulnerable. I’m a novice when it comes to sharing things like feelings.
Myles chuckles at one particularly steamy scene. "I didn't know romance novels could be so... graphic," he admits, a hint of pink blooming on his cheeks. "Cara used to read them all the time, but I never really got into it."
"Ah, so you're a romance novel virgin," I tease, nudging him playfully. "Don't worry; I'll be gentle."
"Very funny," he retorts, rolling his eyes. But there's affection in his voice, and I know he's enjoying this as much as I am. “When did you know?” His expression is suddenly serious.
“Know what, baby?”
“That you were falling in love with me?”
“Honestly, babe? I’m still falling.”