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Tripp didn’t even realize they were moving until his back slammed into the wall next to the stairs. Jayme pressed his body against Tripp’s, his hands roaming down from his face to the hem of his T-shirt. Jayme’s warm hands slipped under the hem and moved up his stomach to Tripp’s chest, all while Jayme’s mouth ravaged his. This had to stop no matter how good, or right, it felt. He wasn’t going to be Jayme’s biggest regret in the morning.
He planted his hands on Jayme’s chest and shoved him back, holding him at an arm’s length. They both panted as they stared at each other. He swallowed hard and fought against what his body wanted him to do, which was to let Jayme continue.
“Tripp--“ Jayme rasped.
“No. No, we’re done here. You need to go to bed.”
“But--“
“Jayme. I can’t let you do this while your drunk. I just can’t.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“You are. Now, please. Just go upstairs and go to bed.”
“Or we could go upstairs and go to bed,” Jayme replied with a small grin and a suggestive wag of his eyebrows.
“Oh my God. You’re killing me.” He sighed. “This isn’t happening tonight, Jayme. We’ll talk tomorrow when you’re sober.”
“That kiss was fucking hot.” Jayme growled, his green eyes darkening with desire. He leaned into Tripp’s hands which were still on his chest. He reached out and fingered the hem of Tripp’s T-shirt. Tripp shivered as Jayme’s fingers touched his overheated skin.
“Jayme,” Tripp snapped. Jayme’s eyes flipped up to meet his. “I said no.”
The smile fell from Jayme’s face. A muscle ticked in his jaw before he gave Tripp a sharp nod, then headed up the stairs. He sagged against the wall and covered his face with his hands. He made an aggravated noise. What the hell was going to happen in the morning when Jayme realized what he’d done? Maybe Jayme won’t remember, and he can pretend like it didn’t happen.
He waited until he heard Jayme stop moving around in his bedroom before he went upstairs to his. He got undressed and climbed into bed. His mind whirled though, making it impossible to fall asleep. He eventually gave up on trying to sleep and turned on his TV. He kept the volume low, so not to wake Jayme. A couple hours later, his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep while watching a movie.
~~~
Jayme
Jayme dragged his eyes open the next morning. His head was pounding. Damn, he drank a lot last night. He hadn’t gotten drunk like that in a while. He stretched, his joints popped as he did. He shucked his covers, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He groaned and rubbed his temples with his fingers. He barely remembered getting home. Tripp must have driven him, which means they’re going to have to go pick up his truck.
Thank God he didn’t have work today. He pushed to his feet and went to his dresser to pull on a pair of gym shorts. He then shuffled out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. After taking a piss, he brushed his teeth and took some Tylenol for his head. He headed downstairs and into the kitchen.
Tripp was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee while he looked through a Men’s Health magazine. Tripp glanced up and last night came rushing back to Jayme. The conversation in the truck on the way home and then Jayme kissing the shit out of Tripp after they walked in the door. His eyes widened and he gasped, pointing at Tripp.
Tripp smiled bitterly. “Just hit you, didn’t it?”
“I kissed you,” he whispered.
Tripp pressed his lips together and nodded. Jayme pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head, which was still aching. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m such an asshole.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll just pretend it didn’t happen,” Tripp said. He could tell he was trying to sound nonchalant, but it wasn’t completely working. Tripp was aggravated, if not a little hurt. “I understand that you probably regret it.”
Did he want to pretend that it didn’t happen? No. Did he regret it? Definitely not. From what he remembered the kiss was smoking hot. He even jerked off thinking about it before he fell asleep. He may not understand what the hell was happening with him, why he was all of a sudden attracted to a man, but he didn’t want to pretend nothing happened.
He looked at Tripp, who was back to looking at his magazine, eyebrows drawn together, frown firmly in place. “I don’t regret it, Tripp. Not the kiss anyway. I regret being drunk when I did it. And also, still married. But I don’t regret kissing you.”
Tripp’s head shot up, his eyes wide with shock. “You don’t?”
He shook his head then wished he hadn’t. He groaned and pressed his fingers to his temples.
