Crossing Borders

by Z. A. Maxfield

  Michael didn’t see anyone in the usual places, so he hoped they’d all had a nice meal and a good night’s sleep, and started back to the station. He looked forward to seeing Sparky, knowing that when he got home there would be a fire, and his boy would be waiting for him.

  Something about that made his heart so full and warm he was afraid to trust it. He knew they hadn’t been together very long, but already he’d placed his heart and his home completely in Tristan’s freckly young hands. He’d taken to leaving little notes and trinkets around for his boy to find. When he rattled around the house alone, he always knew Tristan was just a short drive away and that any moment he’d arrive and make the house feel like a home again. He wanted Tristan to move in permanently, but knew just from talking to him that he wasn’t ready yet. His own family needed him. No way would he be comfortable abandoning his mother, even for love. And that conversation on the roof… What had brought that on?

  Finishing up his paperwork, Michael said a tired goodnight to his friends. Some of them were just going on shift, and they laughed at how bleary-eyed he looked. He headed for his truck, his Tristan, and his home. His head felt like lead, but his heart was light.

  * * * * *

  Tristan felt rather than heard when Michael came through the door. The flames danced in the fireplace, and the cool air blew across his skin. He turned, still a little dozy- feeling as he lifted his arms for Michael to come to him. Michael didn’t hesitate, dropping onto the futon beside Tristan, his weapon stored safely in a case in the closet, the only part of the uniform he’d removed.

  “Michael,” said Tristan, pushing hard into his embrace. “Missed you,” he sighed, still waking up.

  “Me too. I thought about you the whole night. Thought about this. Scoot over,” he said, getting under the covers.

  “You still have your shoes on?” asked Tristan, feeling them next to his feet. “Come here.” He sat up and began to remove Michael’s shirt, carefully helping to slide it off Michael’s shoulders, holding him up and giving his neck a good kiss while he was at it. “Let me get those shoes,” he added, slipping down to untie the laces. “Here.”

  “Sparky,” said Michael tiredly. “You’re so warm.”

  “Going to warm you up in a minute, Michael,” said Tristan, who was working to unzip Michael’s trousers and slide them off his body. “Once you’re all undressed, we can share body heat.”

  “Sounds good,” said Michael. “I’ve been up for about thirty-six hours, Sparky. I need to sleep.”

  “Okay, baby, whatever you need.” Tristan removed Michael’s undershirt and scooted on top of him as Michael toed off his socks. “Go to sleep.”

  “Have to,” said Michael. “But I’ll be dreaming about loving you later.”

  “Okay, later,” said Tristan. “There’s plenty of time later.”

  “Later. Did I tell you I love you yet?” said Michael, oozing into sleep muscle by muscle.

  “Nope,” said Tristan. “Not yet.”

  “I love you,” said Michael, his breathing becoming deep and even. “So much.”

  “Me too,” said Tristan. “I love you, Michael.” Tristan lay on Michael until he felt his body warm up and then moved to the side, away from the fireplace, so that Michael was right next to it. He wrapped his arms around his lover possessively and then his legs for good measure, and fell into a dreamless sleep beside him.

  * * * * *

  Several hours later when Michael woke up, it was to find an amorous, sleeping Tristan rocking against him. “Oh,” said Tristan, as he pushed his erection hard against Michael’s. “So good,” he sighed. He nuzzled into Michael’s neck, setting little smoldering fires on his skin as his lower half plunged Michael into instant erotic overdrive.

  “Hey,” said Michael, finding Tristan’s mouth and opening it, waking him with a thrusting tongue. “Wait for me.”

  Tristan, for his part, didn’t care who started it or how, he only knew that Michael was playing, and he was on fire. “Oh.” He smiled against skin. “Glad you’re awake.”

  “Come here,” said Michael, rolling Tristan onto his back. “I want inside you.”

  “Yeah. Sweet,” said Tristan. “Yeah.” He tasted Michael’s lips and reached up to find a bottle of lube and a condom under the pillow.

  “How?” asked Michael softly in Tristan’s ear.

  “Surprise me,” said Tristan, laughing. He nipped at Michael’s jaw sharply, more than ready to be with him. “I want you so much.” Tristan gasped as Michael’s lube-slicked finger entered him, playing with him gently for a time. Just as suddenly, it left him empty and needing. He tried to move back toward that hand.

  “Turn over,” said Michael rolling him. When Tristan complied, the fingers came back, two this time, stroking him from the inside. “So hot for you,” said Michael. “You’re so beautiful when I do this.”

  “All for you,” gasped Tristan as Michael hit his gland.

  “Yes,” said Michael. He pushed in a third finger, and Tristan closed his eyes and bit his lip. “Like that?” he asked.

  “Yes,” hissed Tristan. “Feels good.” He writhed under Michael’s hand, his head down, his hips up. He felt Michael’s hand leave him to put on a condom, and the head of his cock took its place. “Oh,” breathed Tristan, sucking in a deep breath. “Oh, so good.”

  “Yeah,” said Michael, sliding in hard, all the way to his balls. He kissed Tristan’s back, arching to push into him with everything he had, then placed an arm around Tristan’s chest and lifted him, pulling him up and against his own, letting Tristan ride his cock from a position straddling Michael, with his back to Michael’s chest.

  “Oh! Shit,” said Tristan, as the new position drove Michael’s cock so deeply into him he seemed to feel it everywhere. “I can feel you…your heartbeat,” he moaned, his head falling back onto Michael’s shoulder. “It’s like I’m part of you.”

  “Uhn…you are, baby,” said Michael, kissing Tristan’s neck where it lay exposed in front of him. “Surprise.”

  Biting his lip to keep from crying out, Tristan lifted his arm and took hold of Michael’s head. He held him close, while Michael bit and licked his neck. Michael moved inside him, and he thought he would expire from the pleasure of it.

  “Shit,” said Tristan, his own strong legs absorbing the shock of Michael’s determined thrusts. “Oh, Michael! Shit,” he said again, as he melted into the arms surrounding him, holding him fast while Michael’s cock pumped in and out of him harder and deeper and faster still. He understood what Michael meant now when he said “make me fly.” Tristan was beyond his body, soaring.

  “Hm?” said Michael into his neck, seemingly lost to speech as he grasped Tristan’s cock with one hand and began to pump it too. Waves of pleasure shot through Tristan’s body like sound.

  “I’m all full,” moaned Tristan, who was so stimulated that his body didn’t feel like his own any more. “Oh, harder,” he begged.

  Michael pistoned into Tristan’s body like a machine, crushing him in his arms. Tristan made low moaning sounds, his cock gliding through Michael’s slick fingers. He cried out and shot hard, his whole body spasming out of control until Michael came as well, pulling Tristan in close and pushing himself into Tristan’s heat as deeply as Tristan could take him. Tristan trembled when he felt the jerk of Michael’s release inside him, and it flooded him with warmth.

  Michael and Tristan stayed joined, kneeling, until everything around them stopped whirling and spinning, and it was just the two of them again loving each other.

  “I think you severed my spine,” moaned Tristan, falling forward with Michael still in him and holding on from behind.

  Tristan hissed as Michael withdrew and pulled off the condom, tying it and tossing it. He put his nose in Tristan’s hair and inhaled. “You smell like Thanksgiving and man and fire and sex.” He sighed. “Jelly legs?” he asked.

  “The worst,” said Tristan. “Or the best, I don’t know which yet.”

 
; “The difference is always how much you need to pee.” Michael laughed.

  “Well, I do,” whined Tristan. “And how I’m going to get there remains a mystery.”

  “I’m going; why don’t we try the buddy system? I’ll help you up.”

  “I’m serious,” said Tristan as Michael righted him, and he began the trek to the bathroom on the shakiest legs of his life. “Wobbly.”

  “I’ve got you, love.” Michael held him firm, and Tristan leaned into him, walking the short distance with him. “Bath?” he asked while Tristan was relieving himself.

  “Yes.” Tristan plunked himself down on the thin lip of the tub. “I’d love a bath. As long as there’s some of that herb-y stuff and you in it.”

  Michael turned the water on. He sat down next to Tristan and pulled him in for a kiss.

  “Wow. I’m going to feel you next week.” He put his head on Michael’s shoulder. “Not that next week I won’t want to feel you again. Or an hour from now.”

  Michael slid his hand into Tristan’s hair behind his neck. “I always want you,” he said, kissing him. He took the bottle of herb-scented oil, added it, and then went around the bathroom lighting candles.

  Tristan climbed in and rested his back against the tub, rippling the water around with his hands. “I get to hold you this time, your tub, my rules.” He smiled an invitation.

  Michael slipped into the water and slid between his legs. “Cold night last night,” he said. “I was worried about Mary and her friends.”

  “The homeless lady you told me about?” asked Tristan.

  “Yeah, but I think they must have gone to a shelter,” said Michael. “I didn’t see them. I hope they did.”

  “You know, when you mentioned that you’d seen kids thrown out by their parents, I thought, how can someone be so…” Tristan slid a hand over Michael’s chest, and he kissed the nape of his neck. “I think I’m very lucky.”

  “I think you are too. No matter how goofy they were acting, your brothers were still being your brothers. Your mom may be shocked, but she’s dealing. And your sister? She can’t wait to sew us those ruffly poet shirts.”

  “You got that right.” Tristan smiled. “Maybe we could get our picture taken as vampire demon lovers and give that to her for Christmas.”

  “Sweet! We could get those contacts that make your eyes red. Except your eyes are the most perfect shade of blue. They still go straight to my dick.”

  “Wrong,” said Tristan. “Your eyes are the most perfect shade of blue. But it’s true that when you’re around my eyes go straight to your dick.”

  “Love you.” Michael turned to kiss Tristan.

  “Love you too,” said Tristan, bent on discovering other things that could go straight to Michael’s dick, like his hands and his mouth.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  By the early afternoon, Tristan was finding new things to fascinate him about Michael’s body, having licked and sucked his way to his toes. Michael lay spent, relaxed, his hands behind his head, watching Tristan play like a puppy over every part of his skin.

  “It is good to be me, Sparky,” he sighed, as Tristan nipped his ankle.

  “Mm,” said Tristan. “Tattooed skin tastes just like chicken.” He licked around the band tattoo on Michael’s leg, his tongue lavishing the simple design with special attention. “Love this, love the way you look inked.”

  “Hm, what? Oh.” Michael stiffened and pulled away a little. “That was a stupid whim.”

  “Yeah? Don’t you like it still? I love it. I think it’s hot. I wanted to lick it in Borders when I first saw it.” Tristan licked over the design again, sending a frisson of something erotic and hot through Michael.

  “It’s not that.” Michael pulled away. “I just… Sometimes I don’t like the memory of getting it.”

  “Really. Did it hurt that bad?” Tristan slid up Michael’s body.

  “It hurt, but…I got it because someone wanted to mark me, and it just isn’t the best memory,” he sighed, running a hand over Tristan’s hair. “Such beautiful hair.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Michael,” Tristan growled. “There’s a story behind that tattoo, and I want to hear it. Please?” Tristan kissed Michael, catching his lower lip between his teeth and teasing him with his eyes. “Come on, baby, tell me.” He smiled.

  “I’m still not sure what the story is. I was going out with Ron when I was young, younger than you.” He preempted Tristan’s outraged snort. “I was legal, only…just barely.”

  “Hm. I’ll bet you were just a baby.”

  “Well, yeah, I guess. In terms of relationships? Yeah.” He tried to think back to what he felt, the confusion, the fear, and also the love. “I thought I loved him. He was good to my mom and me. He’d been a friend for a long time.”

  “At least he waited. He did wait, didn’t he? Till you were of age?”

  “Yeah. He never made a move till I was old enough…but maybe I just wasn’t.” He bit his lip, thinking hard. “Anyway, he wanted the ink to symbolize ownership, I guess. Ron is into BDSM and Master/slave relationships. He liked doing scenes. He could make it seem so exciting. He liked things rough and kinky, but he never got it about me. I didn’t want to be hurt. I didn’t want to be degraded. I took it all so seriously. I didn’t mind being controlled; I just didn’t want the pain. I still don’t see how that could be a game.” He lifted his ankle and turned it, looking at the simple tribal design around it. “It confused him as much as it confused me, and to this day, I think he wonders what happened.”

  “That’s sad,” said Tristan. “His loss, Michael. You know I get it, right?”

  “What do you get?” Michael wrapped his arms around Tristan and kissed his temple.

  “Well, it’s about safety, isn’t it? I don’t think you’d want to be really controlled by someone. You just need a safe place to give up control for a while. Maybe with someone you trust who won’t hurt you. That’s not a Master/slave thing, that’s just…what lovers do. Right?”

  “Oh, Sparky,” said Michael softly. “You have a very special heart, do you know that?”

  Tristan responded by licking a long line up his jaw and kissing him sweetly. “Just common sense,” he mumbled into Michael’s lips.

  “Not common at all, love,” said Michael. “Hey!” He sat up suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Come with me,” he said, getting off the futon with enough energy to make Tristan fall back in a heap.

  “Where?” Tristan pushed the hair out of his eyes. “I thought we were going to spend the day in bed?”

  “No, I have to do something first, come on.” Michael was already walking back to the bedroom to dress.

  “Oh, hey, well…all right.” Tristan fumbled off of the floor and looked for his duffel. “Let me get dressed.”

  In minutes, Michael came from his bedroom dressed casually, with his hair combed and smiling a minty fresh smile. “Ready?”

  Tristan was hopping into his drawstring pants. “Uh, no, I gotta brush my teeth and comb my hair.” He headed for the bathroom, muttering, “Like some damned morning person when you wake up.”

  “Come on. We’ve got to go see Meghan.”

  “Who’s Meghan?” asked Tristan as he finished up in the bathroom and followed Michael to his truck. “Does this Meghan come with coffee?” He got into the passenger seat as Michael was already firing up the engine.

  “Of course. Maybe even food. We’ll see.” The truck was moving before Tristan had even settled back against the seat.

  They pulled into a parking lot in the downtown area of Fullerton, behind some of the newer, trendier restaurants, and got out of the truck. Michael seemed to know where he was going, and Tristan followed along, certain that coffee would be forthcoming eventually. They walked along Harbor Boulevard a ways until Michael led him into a boutique-looking place called “I.N.KD.”

  “Hey,” said Tristan, looking around at all the pic
tures on the walls of people showing off body art. “Michael?” He looked around at the mostly empty place. Apparently people didn’t get tattoos much the day after Thanksgiving.

  A man came out from behind a curtain in back, and as soon as he saw Michael, he smiled and walked faster. “Officer Mikey!” he cried as he took Michael’s hand and clapped him on the back. “What can I do for you today?”

  “Sparky, this is Jim; he owns this place.” Michael returned the handshake and gave Jim a hug.

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Tristan.

  “Likewise,” said Jim. “You’re here in your civilian clothes, what’s up?”

  “Is Meghan here?” asked Michael, looking around. “I need her to touch me up.”

  Jim raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, she’s getting coffee. You thinking of getting inked again?”

  “I just want to change my band a little,” said Michael.

  They stood there in silence, Tristan looking at the design boards on the wall.

  “See anything you like, Sparky?” said Jim.

  Tristan looked at Michael then, his cheeks pinking up. “Oh, yeah,” he smiled shyly.

  Jim barked a laugh. “You’re trouble.”

  “You got that right,” said Michael, smiling.

  The door chimed, and a woman came in carrying two coffees. Tristan thought she looked like a younger, darker version of Michael’s mother. They both had an otherworldly vibe that, in Emma, took the form of mismatched bohemian clothing and layers of jangling jewelry. On Meghan, it manifested itself in ink. All over her body, from her head to her toes, she had tattoos.

  “Meghan, you have a visitor,” Jim said, taking his coffee and returning behind the curtain.

  “Michael!” she said, coming over to give Michael an extraordinary, full-body hug. “Hi, baby.” She stepped back and put her coffee to her lips, taking a sip, cursing softly when it burned her.

  “Hi, Meghan, I need my band touched up,” Michael said, smiling.