Jesus, Ineedto hold him.
“Come here then,” I give in, to him, but even more to myself, reaching out to wrap my arm around his firm, slim waist as I scoot just a bit closer.
The moment my touch meets the tight solidness of him andI can feel the warm smoothness of his skin through his thin shirt, I realize how dangerous of a game I’m playing. Touching him feels too damn good for words.
As my hand settles at the small of his back, my eyes fall shut of their own accord, and it’s only with great effort that I resist slipping my grip down under his other side and hauling him flush against me so I can feel the full length of his body pressed to mine.
Tristan’s low chuckle is the only warning I get before he flips over, scooting against me in the same motion so that, before I can do a thing about it, the entire backside of his body is nestled against the front of mine, his head tucked just under my chin and his ass resting squarely against my suddenly very interested dick.
“Thisis how you warm someone up,” he laughs, reaching down to find and catch hold of my hand and drag it back around his waist, securing himself against me.
The movement must have hiked up his shirt, because instead of thin fabric, my palm meets the bare warmth of his tight stomach, and before I can stop them, my traitorous fingers flex, stroking over his silky skin.
“Now who’s not being good?” he murmurs, the breathy catch in his voice making my dick twitch in a movement I’m sure he’s able to feel.
“Your fault for putting my hand there,” I say before thinking, but he only laughs again, grabbing my wrist and pressing my hand back against his skin as I try to pull it away.
Christ, I don’t want to pull away. I want this. I wanthim.
I may not be ready for anything more tonight, but as my muscles relax and I give in to the smooth warmth of his skin under my fingers, I know that, soon, I will be. Whether it’s justbecause it’s been so damn long since I actually wanted anyone, or whether it’s something specifically about Tristan, nothing has ever felt as good as the clothed press of his body against mine and the touch of my skin against his.
He doesn’t let go even after I’ve given up my rather half-hearted effort to escape, only loosens his grip enough to sweep his thumb across my lower arm in a slow, circling motion. There’s something so affectionate and familiar about his touch that I don’t hesitate to tip my chin down and press a lingering kiss to the back of his head, trying to hold in the shuddery rush of breath I can’t help letting go at the feel of his hair against my lips.
Several heartbeats pass in silence before, when I think I finally have myself under control, "I like this," I admit in a whisper.
At my words, his body that I’d thought was already as close to mine as it could get somehow presses closer, relaxing against me in a way that has me instinctively tightening my hold around his waist to keep from losing this increased nearness. Burying my smile in his hair, I pull in a long inhale of that sweet, minty, fruity Tristan smell as I try to ignore the way his round, firm ass is pressed so perfectly against my dick that I’m trying valiantly to keep under control. Completely unaided by the negligible barrier of my flannels and his sweats, I might add.
Apparently, I don't do a good enough job because I can feel the soft rumble of his laughter as he shifts in my arms, staying as close and firmly pressed to me as ever as he shimmies himself slightly against me, whispering with a suppressed giggle, "Ohh, I can tell, sunshine."
15
Jesse
Ascorching flood of heat washes through my face, almost blotting out the fresh jolt of sensation Tristan’s movements trigger. He only leaves me with my embarrassment for a moment though before he turns enough in my arms to tilt his head back so that the warm breath of his next whisper grazes my ear, sending shivers over my skin, "I like it too."
The friction of the purposeful, unmistakable roll he gives his hips, pressing his ass up and back against my now definitely hard dick sends a molten shot of arousal coursing through me. When my hands grip his hips though, it's to still his movements, not to drag his body even closer against me like I so desperately want to.
The frustrated huff of breath he lets out sets me grinning against his hair, even as it erodes my resolve.
Squeezing my eyes shut and breathing out a slow, steadying breath, I force myself to remember it can’t change anything. I’ve promised myself I’ll stick to my decision. Nothing is going to happen between us tonight. Not until I’ve had a chance to try to figure out just how far I’m willing to let him into my heart.
“Goodnight, Tris,” I whisper, not above giving him a littletaste of his own medicine as I dip forward, letting my lips graze the shell of his ear before pulling away to settle back behind him on the pillow.
His full body shudder and soft whiny sound of disappointment are equal parts deeply gratifying and perilously close to self-sabotaging. Even so, I force myself to lie still, dick throbbing and hard as hell, as he gives one or two hopeful squirms against me before letting out another breath of frustrated defeat.
“Goodnight, you fucking tease. And thanks for the blue balls,” he mutters, the sharpness in his voice seriously undermined by the way he tips his head, resting it against my shoulder.
I’m extremely tempted to point out his hypocrisy, but my few remaining functioning brain cells warn that any more provoking of him is not likely to end well. Or, rather, it’s likely to end fartoowell.
It seems Tristan does indeed intend to keep his promise because, except for a little shifting around and a few frustrated sighs that I resolutely pretend not to hear, both of us are still and silent. Soon, his breaths grow slow and even, and I know he’s asleep.
I, on the other hand, am wide awake. Wide awake and buzzing with the awareness of his body pressed against mine. As I close my eyes and try to will myself to drift off, every nerve in me is alert to how his presence fills my senses.
And every beat of my heart leaps with anticipation and trepidation about what will happen tomorrow, when my flimsy excuse from tonight is gone.
The ping of my phone drags me out of the most comfortable, happiest sleep I’ve had in far too long. As my consciousness floats back to the surface, the comfort and happiness only grow, solidifying into the sensation of a firm, dense weight plastered over my back, half pinning me into the mattress and pillow.
My phone chimes again, and in answer, a sound of protest rumbles in my ear before transforming into a soft, hummed sort of sigh. And then the weight shifts, rolling a little to the side as a calloused hand slips up under the back of my shirt at the same moment as soft, warm lips find the back of my neck.
