Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-four
COLBY
The house was quiet. Not just nighttime quiet— settled quiet. Nothing lurking outside the window, no dreams waiting in the dark. Just the steady, familiar sound of Tristan’s heartbeat under Colby’s ear.
He’d been lying like that for a while now, not because he couldn’t sleep, but because he didn’t want to. Not yet. Not until he asked Tristan.
His heart was beating too fast—not from fear exactly, but it had been a long time since he’d chosen this.
Since he’d wanted it, not to please someone else, but because he missed the way it used to feel.
Because he wanted it back. And he needed to ask when he wasn’t so turned on he might say yes to anything.
Both of them needed to be thinking straight, to know what they were getting into.
Part of him still wasn’t sure he could go through with it. But he wanted to.
“You awake?” he asked, his voice oddly loud in the quiet.
“Am now,” Tristan said with a soft huff of laughter. “Why?”
Colby hesitated. His mouth was dry. “I’d like to try something, if you’re okay with that.”
Tristan moved under him, already more alert. “I’m listening.”
“I want you to touch me.” He paused. “There.” Paused again as he realized how unclear he’d been and how clear he needed to be. “I mean—I want you to finger me.”
Tristan was silent a few moments, but it didn’t sound like the wrong kind of silence. It was the kind that meant Tristan was giving him space, one with which Colby was becoming increasingly familiar.
“You’re sure?” Tristan asked quietly at last.
Colby nodded, even though his pulse was racing. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it the last few days. I want to remember what it’s like when it’s… When it’s just want. Just you.”
He drew in an unsteady breath. “I want it to be mine again.”
Tristan exhaled, soft and warm. He touched Colby’s cheek like he was something sacred. “Then it’s yours. All of it.”
But when he’d pressed a gentle, closed-mouth kiss to Colby’s lips, he drew away slightly. “You’re sure this is what you want? Not because you think I…”
Colby shook his head. He sometimes worried Tristan would get bored of his limited repertoire, but it wasn’t about that. It was about reclaiming himself. And, hopefully, giving more to Tristan as he did so.
Tristan’s thumb traced the line of his jaw. “You tell me to stop at any point, and I will. No questions, no guilt.”
“I know.” And he did. God, he did. Couldn’t have done this otherwise.
Tristan leaned in and kissed him. His tongue flicked into Colby’s mouth, light and teasing, and it turned Colby on so much he was dizzy with it.
He didn’t think he’d ever be able to kiss Tristan without ending up a hopeless, wanting, needing mess.
And he was glad of it, because he’d been beginning to think this was all feeling so clinical that it would be more like a science experiment than sex.
The way his cock was responding as Tristan deepened the kiss meant that really wasn’t going to be a problem.
Tristan rolled tight against him, his tongue exploring deep into Colby’s mouth, his cock pushing against Colby’s. This wasn’t Tristan humoring him. He wanted this too—wanted him—and the weight of that truth chased some of the fear away.
They kissed until they were both breathing heavily, moving against one another, Tristan’s cock leaving a wet trail against Colby’s skin.
And then Tristan drew back and reached for the drawer beside the bed.
The quiet sound of the cap snapping open made Colby tense—he couldn’t help it—and Tristan noticed. Of course he did. He always did.
“Still okay?” he asked softly.
Colby swallowed, but nodded. “Yeah.” His voice was low. “I want this.” And he wasn’t totally sure which of them he was trying to convince.
Tristan’s gaze didn’t move from his face as he warmed the lube in his hand.
There was something devoted in the way he watched Colby, like he was seeing something precious.
Something he valued. He slicked his fingers slowly, letting Colby watch, and Colby’s mouth dried in a mixture of apprehension and anticipation.
The first touch made Colby flinch. A breath caught in his throat. His whole body tensed, wired for roughness and pain that didn’t come, waiting for the moment when choice would vanish.
Tristan stilled instantly, his free hand cupping the side of Colby’s face. “Breathe,” he whispered, and kissed him, slow and anchoring, with no demand in it.
And the kiss worked. Colby’s tension slowly bled away as their mouths moved together, soft and open, exploring and giving, and when Tristan’s fingers brushed over him again, he didn’t pull away.
He nodded, barely more than a motion.
Tristan moved again—gentle, steady—circling, teasing, coaxing him open. “You feel so good like this,” he murmured, lips brushing Colby’s jaw. “Let me take care of you.”
Colby shuddered as Tristan’s finger pushed slowly inside, and it felt so good.
His body wanted this. God, he wanted this.
His cock was hard and aching, pressing against Tristan’s hip, and he was starting to push into the rhythm without thinking, hips twitching forward each time Tristan’s finger slid past that tight, sensitive rim.
“More,” he whispered, breath catching. “I’m okay. Give me more.”
Tristan obliged, sliding deeper now, still slow, still careful. He kissed Colby’s mouth again, open and warm, one hand steady at his hip. “I’ve got you,” he said. “I’ve always got you.”
Colby closed his eyes, dizzy with the heat coiling in his gut. Tristan’s hands, the steady thud of his own heartbeat growing louder with every stroke, and it was good.
Tristan worked him open with slow, careful strokes, and enough lube to sink a battleship, his fingers curling just enough to tease. Every time Colby gasped or twitched, Tristan pulled back slightly, never rushing, always checking—not with words anymore, but with touch.
“You’re so perfect like this,” Tristan whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.
Colby let out a breathless sound, halfway between a laugh and a whimper. “You keep saying stuff like that, I’m gonna come just from this.”
Tristan grinned against his skin. “Wouldn’t mind. Not even a little.”
He eased another finger in, and Colby’s body welcomed it, hips rocking in slow rhythm.
His breath hitched, but he didn’t flinch—just clenched one hand in the sheets and the other on Tristan’s arm, grounding himself.
He felt full, stretched, but good. Right.
The edge of pain he remembered never came.
Then Tristan shifted, changing the angle, and Colby gasped, loud and helpless. He arched off the bed, thighs falling wider as a sharp bolt of pleasure cut through him.
“There?” Tristan asked, voice low and ragged.
“Fuck, yeah. There.”
Tristan kissed him again, and this one wasn’t sweet—it was hot, claiming, full of teeth and tongue. Colby kissed back like he needed it to breathe, hips rolling, fucking himself slowly on Tristan’s fingers. It felt so good.
His cock pulsed where it lay untouched, leaking onto his stomach, but he didn’t need more yet. All the pleasure was rooted deep inside, in the way Tristan touched him, in the way Tristan watched him, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have Colby like this.
The pressure kept building, slow and steady, rolling through him like the building tension before a storm, deep and inevitable.
“Tristan.” It was broken, on a gasp. “I’m close.”
“Let me see.” Tristan kissed his jaw, his throat, his mouth. “Let go for me, Colby.”
And he did—with a shudder and a cry, his whole body bowing up into the pleasure. He came with Tristan’s fingers still deep inside, with Tristan’s voice in his ear and his name on Tristan’s lips.
When it passed, Colby collapsed into the sheets, boneless and gasping. He didn’t realize he was shaking until Tristan gathered him close, murmuring something soft and grounding against his hair.
“I’ve got you,” Tristan whispered again. “Always.”
Colby clung to him, trying to breathe past the knot in his chest. Not from fear. From the overwhelming flood of this. This safety. This love. This power that didn’t come from dominating.
After a long moment, he managed to whisper, “Thank you.”
Tristan kissed his temple. “Thank you.”
Colby let out a deep breath, wrung out in the best way. But as he recovered, awareness crept in. Tristan’s breathing was fast, his cock still hard against Colby’s hip.
Colby lifted his head to look at him. “Wait,” he said. “You haven’t—”
Tristan smiled, brushing damp hair back from Colby’s forehead. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “This wasn’t about me.”
Colby searched his face. “But it is.”
Tristan looked like he didn’t know what to do with that statement.
“I want to,” Colby said, voice quiet but steady. “Let me. I’m okay. And I want to make you feel good.”
Tristan hesitated for a second—just long enough to be sure—but then his smile turned a little wrecked, a little breathless. “You already have.”
“Not like this,” Colby whispered, and kissed Tristan’s neck, finding that spot with his lips and his tongue that never, ever failed to make Tristan squirm helplessly.
Tristan’s cock was hot and silky smooth, and he was making little grunts as he pushed into Colby’s hand.
Colby wished, just for an instant, that he could give Tristan more, but then Tristan’s eyes were on his, open and adoring as he looked at Colby, and Colby realized—he was giving Tristan himself. Somehow, for Tristan, that was enough.
It wasn’t about acts or expectations, but about them, together, in an intimacy like nothing he’d ever known. Even before Nico, he’d never known this was possible.
As Tristan arched up and came, with a series of soft, helpless cries, Colby leaned in and kissed him, tender and full of wonder.
Mine, he thought. But it wasn’t a claim.
It wasn’t Nico’s possessive brand of ownership.
It came from his wolf—the part of him he’d missed so badly.
The part of him that knew, with quiet certainty, that this was his mate. That this was forever.
They lay together afterward, tangled in rumpled sheets. Tristan hadn’t moved from where he’d curled protectively around Colby, one hand stroking idly along his arm, like he couldn’t stop touching him.
The rush of release had passed, but the feeling lingered—softer now, and strange in its quietness. Colby felt cracked open. Not in a painful way, but as if light was getting in.
“You okay?” Tristan asked, his voice rough-edged with emotion, but gentle.
Colby nodded, relaxed in Tristan’s arms. “Yeah. Just…” He hesitated. “That was more than I expected.”
Tristan’s hand stilled. “Too much?”
“No. Not that kind of more. Just—” He searched for the right words, then gave a breath of soft laughter. “You keep surprising me. In good ways.”
Tristan’s fingers resumed their path over his skin. “You surprise me too,” he murmured. “What you give. You’re incredible.”
Colby huffed, not knowing what to say. “I think maybe you’re a little biased.”
“Hell yeah, I am,” Tristan said without hesitation. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
That got a small, helpless smile out of Colby that he didn’t even realize he was making until Tristan leaned in to kiss it.
“I didn’t know it could be like that,” Colby said quietly, once the kiss faded. “Not ever. Not even before—before him. I didn’t know it could feel so good. Not just the sex. All of it.”
Tristan just held him tighter. “It can. It should. And we’ll take as long as you need to find more of that, okay?”
Colby nodded again, this time slower. Then he yawned, startling them both.
Tristan chuckled. “Okay, that’s our cue. You want to sleep?”
“Mmm,” Colby murmured, not moving. “Just like this.”
“Yeah,” Tristan said, kissing the top of his head. “Just like this.”
And held in Tristan’s arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart, Colby let his eyes close.
* * *
The next night, with Tristan warm and sleepy beside him, Colby was drifting off when he heard it—Chaos bleating, sharp and staccato, a warning note threading through the sound.
He tensed, shifting slightly to listen better, but Tristan just murmured against his shoulder, “She hates raccoons. Takes their incursions personally.”
Colby nodded, trying to let it go, to breathe in Tristan’s closeness and the quiet peace of the room.
But the unease didn’t fade. It curled in his gut, quiet and stubborn.
The goats eventually settled. Colby didn’t. He almost got up to check the yard. Almost. But he didn’t want to wake Tristan or admit how rattled he still was.
Instead, he lay there, every muscle tight, counting breaths and listening for sounds that didn’t come.