“God,” Tristan gasped, and a guttural sound punched out of him as Colby slid his mouth down on him. Warm and wet andColby.He loved Colby’s hand on him, butthiswas like nothing he could have imagined.
Thank God for Colby’s hands on his thighs, stopping his trembling legs from collapsing under him.
“Colby,” Tristan said between desperate pants, as Colby worked his mouth up and down on Tristan’s cock. Every now and then, he swirled his tongue in a way that made Tristan sure he was about to shake apart with pleasure.
Colby was beautiful like this—focused, quiet, in control. And Tristan started babbling, telling him how amazing he felt, how good he looked, how much he loved him. Shivers were running down his spine, and he’d never been on the edge this quickly.
Colby flicked his gaze up to meet Tristan’s eyes, continuing his steady, maddening pace, and Tristan lost it. He came, wrecked andwild, and Colby was justthere,holding him steady through the shuddering joy.
When Tristan finally opened his eyes again, Colby eased up to his feet. Tristan hauled him in for a desperate open-mouthed kiss, a mix of gratitude and longing andlove.
He finally forced himself to draw back. “You okay?” he asked hoarsely, though the hardness of Colby’s cock pressing insistently against him indicated he was very much alright.
Colby nodded. “Want you to touch me.”
He got Colby onto the bed, where he worked him open with slow, slick fingers and deep, soft kisses. He murmured between each kiss, asking, checking, praising.
Colby arched under his attentions, gasping, and he didn’t look away, his eyes dark and filled with love as he slowly came apart around Tristan’s fingers.
When he came, it was with Tristan’s name in his mouth, and not even a whisper of fear in his body.
They’d just curled up under the covers, tangled and warm, when a goat bleated in the darkness. Long, loud, and indignant. Possibly raccoons. Possibly betrayal.
Tristan groaned. “She knows.”
“Knows what?” Colby murmured sleepily.
“That you love me more than her.”
Colby’s only answer was deepened breathing as he fell asleep, his nose pressed against Tristan’s neck.
And Tristan lay there, grinning into the dark.
Chapter Forty
COLBY
Colby was halfway through his cereal when Chaos arrived outside the back door, glaring in like she was mortally offended not to have been invited to breakfast. He paused, spoon in hand, and stared back.
“Not feeding you,” he muttered.
Chaos didn’t blink. Just pressed her nose harder to the glass as if she was either starving or plotting. Possibly both.
Colby took another bite and tried to ignore her.
The kitchen was quiet this morning, just him, Matt, and a sleepy-eyed Jesse so far. He’d woken up warm, in a bed that he wasn’t going to be yanked out of. There’d been no threat, no orders, no punishment. Just sun on the blankets, the sound of Tristan in the shower, and the smell of freshly ground coffee.
Colby poured himself a second bowl of cereal. Because he could.
Chaos bleated indignantly, and he looked up to see Karl opening the door, deftly barring her attempts to follow him through. He stepped inside without a word, nodded once at Matt, and helped himself to the pot. His hands were steady, his face unreadable.
Matt met Colby’s eyes across the table. “You don’t have to look over your shoulder anymore,” he said quietly. “He’s not coming back.”
His stomach swooped, like the ground had shifted under him. It was over, then. The threat that had breathed down his neck for so long, haunted his dreams—it had gone.
He didn’t know what he felt in that moment. A tangle of guilt, thankfulness, and disbelief.
He didn’t move. Just sat there with his spoon halfway to his mouth, blinking at the cereal as he realized that, for the first time in forever, he didn’t feel like prey.
