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“Let me guess. You went inside and found him in bed with another guy,” Tristan said.

“No. I found him in the living room with two guys. They were having one hell of a party and seemed to have been going at it for quite a while.”

“God,” Tristan whispered.

“That isn’t the worst part. He just turned to the guys he was with and said I was a great lay and that they should give me a spin.” Harry ground his teeth. “The asshole had been cheating and thought me so far under his thumb that he could give me to someone else.” Harry sighed. “You know what? I think I was almost that far gone. But I turned and left in a fucking hurry.” Harry shifted and cupped Tristan’s cheeks in his hands. “I think the bastard wanted me to find them, just so he could make sure I knew my place.”

“What did you do?”

“I second-guessed everything I did for a long time. I trusted no one, and if it hadn’t been for Bull, I don’t know…. He wanted to open a club, and we worked to pull everything together. It took my mind off all the shit and gave me focus.” But he hadn’t been willing to trust anyone to get close to him, really close to him, since. “So I do understand how you feel.”

“Yeah, but why me?”

“You seem to be asking the same questions I’ve been asking myself, and the truth is I don’t know. Except that I don’t think you’ll hurt me.” Something in Tristan’s eyes told him that Tristan was the more vulnerable of the two. If Tristan was willing to take a chance on him, then Harry could certainly take a chance on Tristan. Harry shrugged. “I don’t really have the answer as to why. I mean, why is anyone attracted to another person? Some guys like larger, hairy men.” Tristan grinned at him. “I take it that’s you?”

“Well, yeah. It’s one of the things that the four of us talk about all the time. Everyone except Kevin likes hairy men. He’s hairy himself.” Tristan giggled. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this now. But we all agreed that we like what we don’t have.”

“True,” Harry admitted and moved closer. He kissed Tristan gently. “How hairy do you like your guys?”

“I don’t know. Is trimmed hairy an answer? I like guys with hairy chests, but not back hair so much.” Tristan began to giggle and then full-out laugh. “That should have been my first clue. Eddie was smooth—I should have chucked him to the curb right away.”

Harry laughed along with him. Now that they were laughing together and the seriousness from earlier had dissipated, he tugged Tristan to him and held on. It was nice to simply hold him for a while. “So you’re saying smooth guys are psychotic?”

“No…,” Tristan said with a smile. “Just that I should have remembered what I liked and stuck with it.” Tristan opened a few of the buttons on Harry’s shirt and slipped his hand inside, stroking Harry’s chest. Even in high school Harry had had the beginnings of a hairy chest. The kids used to tease him about his name. Not that he really cared. There were so many other things that kids picked on each other for, and when they’d realized he wouldn’t rise to their taunts, they’d stopped.

Harry chuckled and lay back on the bed, closing his eyes as Tristan slowly moved his hand over his chest. He loved that simple touch. It was intimate and yet not extremely sexual, more caring. It had been a long time since a touch conveyed anything more than “let’s get busy.”

“Is this okay?” Tristan asked softly.

“It’s nice,” Harry told him as he relaxed his breathing and soaked in the simple joy of being the center of Tristan’s attention.

Tristan opened more of Harry’s shirt buttons and settled next to him, running his hand leisurely over his skin. Harry felt like Butterscotch: warm and contented.

“I think you’re liable to start purring at any minute.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Being with someone like this was very new to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever done this.”

“Just be with someone?” Tristan asked. “It’s nice. I had a boyfriend before Eddie. I was still in college. He was a huge closet case and perpetually afraid someone would find out about us. He liked to be like this. He was too scared to really do anything even though he had a private room and we were friends. No one thought anything about it. That is, until he decided he didn’t want to see me anymore because it was getting serious for both of us. Then people started asking questions about why we weren’t friends any longer.”

“Did people figure it out?”

“No. I kept quiet and said that our class schedules had changed. They really hadn’t, but that allowed him to keep his secret and kept people from asking questions.”

“You’re a kind person,” Harry whispered. He was so content he never wanted to move again. He tugged Tristan toward him and then on top of his chest. Feeling his way, he cupped Tristan’s cheek and pulled him closer. Tristan’s warm breath tickled his lips, and they met in a kiss that started off gentle and then deepened into something more. He had to let Tristan take the lead. Oh, he wanted Tristan to go further, but he kept silent. He’d promised in so many words that he wouldn’t push, and he had no intention of doing that. “That must have hurt, and yet you did that for him anyway.”

“What was I going to do? Out him when he wasn’t ready? I knew the main reason he was scared was because I was already out, and I knew how hard that was. Telling everyone he was gay would only have thrown his life into chaos when he wasn’t ready for it.” Tristan stilled. “Outing someone is something I would never do. It’s mean.”

“So you took on the pain for him,” Harry said. An enhanced image of the type of person Tristan was began to form in his mind. Tristan was far kinder and had a bigger heart than Harry had imagined, and he wondered if he could possibly be good enough for him. “You know, most people would never have done that. They would have been spiteful and mean and told everyone.”

Tristan shrugged. “It never occurred to me to do that. I just stopped hanging out with him. He wasn’t worth it.” Harry kissed him again, hard, passion rising quickly.

Harry hugged Tristan tighter, never wanting to let him go. Their kisses intensified, with Tristan wriggling and shifting slightly on top of him. Within a few seconds, the energy changed. They had been talking seriously, and now all he wanted to do was hold Tristan forever. “Tristan,” Harry whispered, “I think we should go to bed.”

Tristan stopped and lifted his head. He nodded slowly and climbed off the bed. Harry instantly felt Tristan’s loss and wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He hadn’t wanted Tristan to go away. He’d only meant…. Dammit. “Tristan,” Harry called and hurriedly got up. He followed Tristan into the hallway and to the other bedroom. He caught him around the waist, and Tristan squeaked in surprise. “I wasn’t sending you away.” He closed his arms around him, nuzzling the back of Tristan’s neck. “I only meant it’s getting late, and we both had a busy day. So I thought it was time we got ready for bed.”

“I thought you wanted me to leave.”

“No, I want you to come to bed with me,” Harry whispered, kissing Tristan’s neck.

“You do?”

“Of course I do.” He held him tighter and carefully turned him in his arms. “I don’t want you to think I don’t want you. I do.” Harry kissed him hard. “You’re beautiful and kind.” Tristan’s confusion only reinforced his decision to go slow. It was important for Harry that Tristan understood that he cared about him—the whole person—and not just sex. He wanted to hold and care for him. Maybe he was wrong and he should have just pursued him the way he had other people, but that didn’t seem right. “Come on.”

“What about Butterscotch?” Tristan asked, his eyes widening slightly.

“I’ll close the door. Butterscotch has places she likes to sleep all over the house. She’ll be just fine.” He wasn’t going to give Tristan something else to worry about. “Come with me.” Harry took his hand and led him back across the hall and into his bedroom. Harry closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed. He tugged Tristan between his legs and held him tight, resting his head against Tristan’s chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

He was getting very rattled as his willpower began to fade. He wanted nothing more than to tug off Tristan’s clothes, pull him down onto the bed, and make love to him for hours. But they had only really known each other in a serious way for a few days. That was too fast. He kept reminding himself of that and backed away. He tugged off his shirt, and Tristan stepped away and began undressing as well. He turned out the light, and after stripping to his boxer shorts, pulled back the covers and got in bed. Then he waited and watched Tristan’s figure as he walked around the bed and got in the other side.

“You do know that I’m not some innocent virgin you have to take your time with. I know what sex is, and I’ve had it before… I like it,” Tristan said.

“I know. Me too. But in the past I’ve always rushed in or just been in it for the sex. I need to take my time.”

Tristan chuckled and settled next to him. Harry lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling, and Tristan scooted close and put his hand on Harry’s chest. “Maybe a little. I may have rushed into sex too early too. Eddie was attractive and forceful. I liked that, but I may have jumped into things.” Tristan rested his head next to his. “I think I like the idea of taking it slow.” He made little circular motions with his palm.

“That’s good.” He knew it would be so easy to heat things up. But he held off. He shifted his gaze to the ceiling and wondered what the hell he was doing. He had Tristan in his bed, something he’d been dreaming of for a long time, and they were only going to sleep. He was as hard as a pole. He had to be completely crazy and stupid to put himself through this. He could have simply let Tristan go back to the guest room. He might have been alone then, but at least the temptation of the century wouldn’t be lying next to him in the dark. He had to be the dumbest man on the face of the earth.

“Harry,” Tristan whispered, shifting closer. “This is nice. No one has ever taken their time like this.” Harry closed his eyes, wrapped an arm around Tristan, and slowly stroked the smooth soft skin of his shoulder while Tristan rested his head against his chest.

He knew he should simply go to sleep and try not to think about having Tristan so close. But there was no fucking way that was going to happen. Harry listened to Tristan breathe, and when he turned over, Harry followed him and pulled him close, not wanting him too far away. He loved the feel of their bodies pressed together.

“When I asked my mom about sex, she told me that I shouldn’t rush into it,” Tristan whispered. “Of course, I was young and stupid, so I didn’t listen to her. But she also told me that I would know I’d met someone special because they’d care about me for me and not just for sex.” Harry heard the smile in Tristan’s voice and knew he’d done the right thing, even if it was damned hard.

H
ARRY
EVENTUALLY
fell asleep and woke with the sun in his eyes and Tristan pressed up against him. He smiled, squeezed Tristan a little closer, and closed his eyes once again, enjoying the simple pleasure of
holding Tristan without the immediate expectation of sex. He’d never thought something like this could be so deep-down satisfying. Not that he wasn’t attracted to Tristan—all he had to do was think about him and excitement surged in him. But at the moment, this was so very nice.

Tristan chuckled and moved closer. Harry closed his eyes and groaned almost silently. “I’m trying to be good, but you’re making it difficult.”

“What if that’s what I want?” Tristan rolled over and then immediately turned away as he yawned. “It was nice sleeping with you, but….” Tristan wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and pressed against him, pushing Harry onto his back. “I lay here all night and….” Tristan wriggled his hips against his, and Harry groaned and thrust back against him. There was no way he could stop it. Tristan felt so damned good, even through his boxers.

“Tristan,” Harry whispered, but it seemed Tristan had very strong ideas, and Harry’s intentions to take it slower went right out the window as Tristan kept rolling his hips against him. They’d left their underwear on when they went to bed, but it didn’t take Tristan long to dispose of those, tossing them to the floor with a flourish and a giggle.

“What happened to you? What changed?”

Tristan leaned forward, holding him tightly. Harry stroked his back and then down over the curve of Tristan’s butt. He was exceptional—that was the only word Harry could find. “I spent the entire night thinking about you,” Tristan said, “feeling you right next to me, and….”

“Hey,” Harry whispered. “I’m not going anywhere. Nothing is going to happen, and I’m not going to run for the hills because we didn’t have sex.” He drew Tristan’s lips closer to his. He needed to learn to keep his damned mouth shut. He had Tristan with him, naked next to him, and Harry was hesitating. He knew it wasn’t because he didn’t find Tristan attractive or because he didn’t want to be with him. Hell, Harry was afraid if he didn’t do what Tristan wanted, he would think Harry wasn’t interested, and nothing could be further from the truth. “Tristan,” Harry began and then gritted his teeth as Tristan started moving his hips again. “Honey….” He held him closer to stop him. “I think we need to talk.”

Tristan stilled, but Harry didn’t let go of him. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Harry gently lifted Tristan’s head until their gazes met. “I’m just concerned. You had the run-in with Eddie yesterday, and he’s been following you. I… I think that maybe you’re rushing into things.” He needed a way to show Tristan he cared without taking advantage of him. He wanted Tristan to be his, but not like this, with him hurting and scared. When they got together, if Tristan decided he still wanted to be with him once the fear and flux wore off, then it had to be special. “I want you to roll over,” Harry whispered into Tristan’s ear. “Lie on the bed on your belly and rest your head on the pillow.”

“What?” Tristan asked with a slight sniffle.

“Lie down on your belly.” Harry shifted and guided Tristan onto the mattress. “Good, I want you to get comfortable and close your eyes.” He settled his hand in the center of Tristan’s back and held it there without moving. All he needed was a continued connection. With the other hand he pulled open the drawer beside the bed and found some oil, lightly cinnamon scented. That would be soothing. He closed the drawer and opened the bottle, keeping his hand in contact with Tristan. That was important.