Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-five
TRISTAN
Tristan managed to knuckle down to some serious coursework in the afternoon, though he did so at the kitchen table rather than the desk in his room.
That meant he could rest his eyes from the screen by looking out the window every so often.
Out the window to where Chaos appeared to have decided Colby was her new favorite person.
Everywhere Colby went, from collecting eggs to filling troughs to topping up hay nets—because he’d pleaded with Tristan for some jobs he could do to contribute—he was followed by a goat-shaped shadow.
One who seemed to take great delight in becoming motionless whenever he glanced around, giving the impression she wasn’t stalking him but simply investigating a random plant or contemplating the sky.
Tristan would need to ensure the goats were locked up for the night in future. Last thing he wanted was Chaos forcing her way into his room when they were about to…
Oh, God. Just the thought of it was getting his blood fizzing. It had been intimate and caring and gorgeous. It had also been hotter than hell, Colby’s firm body plastered against his, the pressure of his cock through the thin, well-washed cotton of boxer shorts.
He bit his knuckle hard and forced himself to concentrate on the screen in front of him. He had to get this done, then he could have the rest of the day with Colby.
* * *
By the time the sun started tipping toward the horizon, Tristan’s coursework was done—well, mostly—and Chaos had finally given up on stalking Colby and wandered off in search of food or mischief, or both. He stood to stretch, arms over his head, and groaned as his spine cracked.
The house was quiet and unusually peaceful, with only Jason in the kitchen, quietly working around Tristan.
Laptop and books cleared from the kitchen table, he wandered outside.
He finally found Colby near the barn, coiling up a hose that clearly hadn’t been used in a decade, and looking absurdly good while doing it.
“There you are,” Tristan said, stopping short to admire the faint flush on his cheeks, the rolled-up sleeves that were straining over his muscles, the way he glanced up and smiled like Tristan was something precious. “You know you don’t actually have to do all the chores.”
“I know,” Colby said. “But I feel better when I’m doing something. Besides, I want to help.”
The honesty in his voice made something in Tristan’s chest curl, warm and tight.
“Come on,” he said. “Dinner’s in half an hour. You want to shower first?”
Colby paused. “Is that a polite way of saying I smell like goat?”
“You do smell like goat, yet inexplicably, you’re still hot as hell,” Tristan informed him, and grinned when Colby’s cheeks flared a deeper red.
They walked back to the house together, brushing arms now and then. It felt like a promise for later, when he’d have Colby in his bed again and they could touch properly, kiss, and maybe more.
Shit, he’d need to stop thinking like that in the middle of the yard. He thought back to all the reading he hadn’t managed to get done, and the sheer amount of work ahead of him slowly calmed his cock.
The kitchen was beginning to hum with the low-level energy that always came before pack dinner. A couple of pans were steaming on the stove, Jason was guarding the chopped veggies from a predatory Jesse, and Dave was arguing with Riley about whether fruit belonged on pizza.
Colby paused in the doorway, uncertain, until Tristan reached for his hand. “Shower first,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Although Jason watched Colby move through the kitchen with cautious eyes, the rest of them didn’t seem to notice, and Tristan knew they were well on their way to accepting him.
In the bathroom, Tristan set the water running and turned to find Colby already stripping off Karl’s borrowed clothes with efficient movements. His face was calm—determined, even—but Tristan could see the way his hands shook slightly, how he folded each piece with too much care.
“We can shower separately, you know. You don’t have to if you’re not—”
“I want to,” Colby said, not looking up. Then, more quietly, “I want this. You.”
Tristan swallowed as an uprush of want washed through him.
He undressed quickly, trying not to stare at Colby and failing miserably.
He couldn’t stop looking, appreciating the way Colby’s broad shoulders tapered to a hard waist, the sheer strength in his body.
Tristan longed to touch him, to feel the warm, taut planes of his chest and stomach.
The bathroom was full of steam by the time they stepped into the shower. Tristan reached behind them and tugged the cubicle closed, trapping the warmth around their bare skin.
Colby turned under the spray and sighed, tipping his head back.
Water coursed down the smooth skin of his back, over faint scars, his waist and then…
Tristan’s mouth dried. Colby’s naked ass was spectacular.
Kind of like Michelangelo’s David—so maybe Tristan didn’t have many frames of reference for hot naked guys—but more muscular.
Just as perfect. Just as likely to have people traveling from all over the globe to admire it.
“Are you just going to stare?” Colby asked, glancing over his shoulder, a teasing lilt in his voice.
That was new, and so welcome. Tristan stepped in behind him, close enough that their skin touched in places. One of those places being Tristan’s hardening cock. “Maybe.”
Colby’s eyes darkened. “Then maybe I should give you something to watch.”
Before Tristan could respond, Colby turned and kissed him—slow, open-mouthed, filthy with want. It knocked the air right out of Tristan’s lungs.
Their hands slid over wet skin, exploring, memorizing.
Tristan’s fingers skated over Colby’s hips and up his spine.
With Colby’s tongue deep in his mouth, driving him out of his mind with need, it took all his control not to run his hands down to Colby’s ass, to touch, to drag him even tighter against Tristan.
But he retained just enough brain function to remember that Colby might need more time, more gentleness, before anything that might feel to him like a demand.
Tristan didn’t actually need to drag him closer, he realized, because they were plastered together, their bodies aligning like they were made for one another.
Their cocks pressed together, and that was it—fire in his blood, lightning behind his ribs and Tristan pushed even tighter against Colby, rubbing his cock against wet skin.
Colby gasped into his mouth, hips jolting forward.
“Shit,” Tristan muttered. “You feel—God, Colby.”
Colby groaned, deep and low, and pressed closer. “Touch me?”
Tristan reached for the bottle of lube he kept in the rack and squeezed a little into his palm, warming it between his hands.
Then, drawing back so he could watch Colby’s face, he slid his hand between them, and wrapped it around both of them, slick and hot and perfect.
Colby closed his eyes, and the little sound he made was pure pleasure as he shuddered under Tristan’s touch.
“Tell me if I need to stop,” Tristan murmured, his mouth moving over Colby’s neck, lips and tongue exploring.
Colby’s answer was a whimper, his hips jerking helplessly into Tristan’s grip. “Don’t stop. Please don’t—”
Tristan felt clumsy and unsure at first, but that didn’t seem to matter to Colby. Water slicked their skin, steam curling around them, breath mingling in moans and gasps.
And then Tristan got more comfortable with this, establishing a grip and a rhythm that made Colby’s hands clutch at his shoulders, his back, nails dragging lightly over his skin as he panted against Tristan’s cheek.
It didn’t take long. Colby came first, trembling all over, and his broken gasp undid Tristan. He followed with a moan, grinding against him, mouth open on Colby’s shoulder. For a second, the whole world disappeared.
When he came back, he was clinging to Colby under the spray, and Colby’s arms were tight around him.
Eventually, Colby pulled back enough to rest his forehead against Tristan’s. “Okay,” he said, sounding dazed. A small, real smile changed his face, and he looked almost as if he couldn’t believe what they’d just shared.
Tristan couldn’t blame him for that, because it had been awesome in every single way possible. Last night had been amazing, but to be completely naked with Colby? Yeah. There were no words. Except maybe one.
“Okay is right,” he agreed happily.
He knew he was grinning goofily as they quickly soaped one another and cleaned off, before stepping out to dry themselves. He handed Colby a clean pair of boxers from his drawer, then pulled on jeans and a worn t-shirt.
“So that happened,” he said, ruffling his damp hair and catching Colby’s eye in the mirror.
“It did,” Colby said, deadpan, but with a smile in his eyes.
Tristan laughed, filled with joy. “Ready for dinner?”
Colby didn’t say anything, just reached out, twined their fingers together, and nodded.
* * *
In the kitchen, the table was already set, and the smell of roasted meat and garlic filled the air.
Jason was at the stove. Jesse was stealing things from the stove. Riley was telling Jesse to stop stealing things from the stove. Dave was watching all of this tolerantly, while drinking a mug of fruit tea. In short, everything was perfectly normal.
Except for the fact that every single head turned when Tristan and Colby walked in together, hair still damp from the shower, a little too glowy.
Jason’s brows rose. Riley blinked twice. Jesse choked—actually choked—on a cherry tomato he’d just snuck. And Dave made a small, surprised noise that might have been a smothered laugh or might have been a wheeze. Hard to tell.
Tristan felt his cheeks flare. Colby, on the other hand, kept his expression blank, like he hadn’t noticed anything at all. Maybe he hadn’t.