“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.Allof it.”
Tristan just held him tighter. “It can. Itshould. 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.
Chapter Thirty-five
TRISTAN
Tristan stirred, slowly surfacing from sleep, his whole body heavy and relaxed. Colby was warm and solid at his side, breath slow and steady, one arm slung across Tristan’s waist like he couldn’t bear to let him go, even in sleep.
Tristan smiled against the pillow. It felt early. No one else awake, probably. Just the hush of the house and the quiet thud of his own heartbeat, slow and content. And his cock, insistently hard and pressing into Colby.
He turned carefully, not wanting Colby to wake up to that, not knowing how it might seem to him when he was still half asleep. The moment he moved, Colby’s arm tightened.
“Morning,” Tristan murmured.
Colby didn’t answer at first. Just nuzzled into his neck, sleep-rough and warm. “Mmm. Still early.”
Tristan grinned. “Yeah. But if we stay like this much longer, I’m gonna combust.”
That got a low, sleepy chuckle. “You combust pretty easily.”
“Only with you.”
He shifted again, enough to lean in and kiss Colby, slow and soft and a little clumsy from sleep. Colby kissed him back, like he was waking up to more than just morning. His hand slid up Tristan’s back, fingers tracing the curve of his spine, then settling at his waist.
Tristan’s heart gave a happy thud. “We don’t have to get up yet,” he whispered.
Colby’s mouth was warm and sure, no hesitation in the way he kissed Tristan—just hunger in slow motion, like he had all the time in the world to taste him. And Tristan melted into it, pressing closer, his hands exploring familiar skin.
“Touch me?” Colby murmured against his lips, voice low and rough and so different from their first times together. There was no flinch in his body now, no tension hiding beneath the want. Just heat, and trust, and need. Tristan loved it when he asked. He so oftenwaitedfor Colby to ask, giving Tristan the quiet certainty that he was wanted, chosen.
Tristan slid his hands lower, brushing over the curve of Colby’s ass, then squeezing lightly. “Yeah?”
Colby nodded, eyes dark, breath catching. “Want your fingers again.” Then he paused, before adding quietly, “If you want that too.”
