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“When I first saw these, I knew I’d never seen shoulders so beautiful.” I speak in a low, calm tone. “Michelangelo couldn’t have sculpted a better specimen.”
He turns his face to the side, so it’s flat on the pillow. A tiny smile tugs at the corner of his lips. I’m surprisingly gratified to see it.
My hands drift to his lower back. “And then you let the robe fall…”
As I talk, the fury of Tristan’s breathing eases.
“I saw a man so physically ideal I wasn’t sure I could be objective enough to commit his body’s flow to paper.”
Listening attentively but staring straight ahead, he nods.
“Then we spoke. Remember when you were lost in that winding hallway?” I must be careful with how much truth I offer—too much honesty is risky. “Your humility… well, it touched me.” It made me want him in a whole new way.
I fix my attention on the finest ass I’ve ever seen, grasping a cheek in each hand. When I squeeze, he moans his pleasure. And when my squeezing turns into a more provocative caress, he lifts his ass for more.
“Gorgeous and humble… and soon, I learned how deeply you’re devoted to your family.” Family… my personal kryptonite.
Eyes loosely closed, his breathing is now steady and shallow. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d fallen asleep. Tristan is ready for what comes next—I sincerely hope I am.
Leaning to the side, I reach into the simple wooden box I keep on my night table and pull out a new tube of lube and a condom. “You are the picture of sweetness, and I want you very much.” I’ve failed to illustrate with words how drawn I am to him. I’m left with the language of my body to show Tristan what he means to me.
Again, Tristan nods. He then twists his neck to look at me. He’s seeking assurance—something I’ve never felt the need to give a lover. But yes, Tristan is different—and more importantly, I’m different with Tristan—so I lean down, kiss the upturned edge of his mouth, and hope to God he feels comforted.
Then I douse my fingers with lube and say, “Sorry if this is cold.” Have I ever apologized for anything before getting busy with a lover? I rub my hands together to warm it and then tentatively touch the entrance to his body with a single finger. He lurches violently to the side. “Tristan, are… are you sure you want to do this?”
If he doesn’t want to continue, it wouldn’t be a problem. We can wait until he’s ready… And I’ll wait as long as it takes.
“Uh-huh, I’m sure.” He slides back into place. “Keep going.” A return of the dreaded robot voice.
I cautiously work my way into his body, adding lube as I add fingers. His body writhes into positions that burn into my mind’s eye. Shapes I want to draw. “You are beautiful.” Beautiful is such a lacking term for how Tristan looks right now. This sight of my lover—both eager and timid, passionate yet wary—is forever branded in my mind.
“You are too,” he grinds out as I press my fingers inside him. “You’re the most… beautiful man… I’ve ever known.”
Tears rush to my eyes as I gasp in disbelief. Maybe he’s confused… or maybe he truly sees me as a man of unsurpassed beauty. All I know for certain is that Tristan is giving himself to me today, and I want to join our bodies together—not merely to be gratified by the pleasure—but so we can exist for a few moments like one being.
I slide my fingers from him, roll on the condom, and squirt lube over my dick.
“Are you ready?” I ask, truly open to any answer he gives me.
“Um… y-yeah.” He tenses slightly as I lift his hips so he’s on his knees.
“Tell me… if you’re, you know, too uncomfortable.” I move behind him and line my dick up with his entrance. And then, for a reason I can’t define, I freeze. After swallowing loudly, I whisper, “This… uh, this means a lot to me.”
“I-I know.” His raspy tone is laden with tiny tremors.
I press my dick inside his tight channel—barely several inches—and give him a moment to adjust. I’m panting now—or maybe it’s his breathing that’s so heavy. It’s impossible to say. “C-can I keep going?”
“Yeah…” One quick word gives me permission to go to a place I’ll certainly never want to leave.
I push in more, and then more. With each progression, I pause and wait for signs of discomfort. Tristan is still and silent as I work my way into his body.
When I’m inside him as far as I can go, I sigh with inexplicable satisfaction. “I’m in you.”
“You… you’ve gotta move.”
He clenches his ass cheeks, and I let out a groan of pure bliss as the warm vise of his body holds me in place.
“Please, Remi—will you move?” His plea is almost… panicked.
“Uh….” Words have again failed me. I’m so profoundly satisfied to be physically joined with Tristan that the concept of fucking him seems to have escaped my mind.
“Please…” Yet another verbal prompt.
So, I push inside him and then withdraw. Just once. He groans—I’m almost certain it’s in the good way. Still, I check. “You okay?”
“I-I’m fine… Better than, even. Keep going.”
With Tristan’s permission—or maybe insistence—I finally get down to business. Gripping his hips, I stare at the lines of his chiseled back, now supported on his elbows. His soft, blond waves call for me to run my fingers through them, but I’ll have to save that for later. And I throw myself into what feels far more like the act of lovemaking than fucking.
Semantics,I remind myself as I thrust. But the sex act has never felt so close to a spiritual experience. My heart and mind and soul have joined my body in this journey.
At the two-minute marker, I’m certain that I won’t last much longer, something I normally pride myself on. Tristan’s so tight—soeverything—and when he grunts and pushes his ass back against me, I shudder and grit my teeth to stay in control.
This is almost a done deal, so I reach around his narrow hip and grip his dick.
“Rub me,” he demands in a gravelly tone. “Just… now, please… I need…”
I do my best to match each thrust to a stroke, but I can’t be sure I get my timing right. I am sure it’s good enough for Tristan, because his cock stiffens into a slab of granite. His insides tighten… and it hits me that I’ve never been in a more perfect place. In mind or body.
We both erupt at once. Knowing Tristan is right here with me—shuddering and panting and groaning—well, it’s like a trip to heaven for two. There and back in thirty exquisite seconds.
And then, I think the forbidden words I haven’t allowed inside my mind for two decades.
I love you.
Yup. And those three little words race through my mind, a time or ten. Maybe more.
How can this be what I think when I can’t ever let myself fall in love?
I’m not in love…
I’m not in love.
I can never fucking fall in love.
* * *
