Secret

by Kindle Alexander

  “Do you want me?” he asked and pushed two fingers inside Dylan before adding a third, making sure he was slick and open, completely ready for him.

  “Yes, but go slow…and touch me.” Dylan nodded his head and moved his hand back to his rigid cock. Tristan stopped him again.

  “I’ll do that,” Tristan whispered, brushing Dylan’s hand aside.

  Tristan slid his throbbing cock up and down Dylan’s crevice, then positioned his head at the entrance. The need to claim this man nearly overwhelmed him. He took a deep breath to calm himself and slowly pressed the tip of his cock against Dylan, feeling it slip past the tight ring of muscle and into his snug channel. Dylan tensed in his arms, even the air in his lungs seemed to freeze at the initial breach.

  “Are you okay?” he panted, lowering his head to judge Dylan’s reaction.

  “Yes, it’s just… I don’t know… Move. It feels better.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to move. It was just that if he did, their time together might not be as long as he’d anticipated. God, Dylan felt amazing, all that tight heat consuming him, drawing him deeper.

  “Yeah, don’t move. Give me a sec.” Tristan gasped.

  “I wanna move,” Dylan breathed, kissing his arm. Tristan gritted his teeth and held Dylan tighter. He ducked his head against Dylan’s shoulder and bit down as he gently pulled out and slowly pressed in again.

  “Shit, that’s starting to feel incredible,” Dylan whispered, awe in his voice.

  “I know,” Tristan agreed and tried the move again. Part of his body wanted him to hold still, the feeling too intense. The other part of him wanted release so badly, his need to move almost consumed him. Neither was his goal at the moment, so he slid his hand over Dylan’s hip and grabbed his cock. He stroked slowly as he forced himself to continue with deliberate controlled movements.

  “I need more,” Dylan murmured into the pillow and moved his hips back against Tristan.

  “Not this time. Take it slow,” he forced out and kissed Dylan’s shoulder, then ran his nose along his neck and ear. “You’re incredible.” He sighed.

  Dylan fucked back against him, then slowly rolled to his stomach. Tristan never quit thrusting into Dylan’s body. He was on top now with Dylan spread out on the bed below him. Tristan anchored his knees in the mattress as Dylan gradually rose, lifting his ass.

  “That feels amazing. Now, fuck me like you mean it.” Dylan reared back, forcing his ass hard into Tristan. Dylan’s hands were splayed out in front of him as he gripped the sheets between his fingers, making a fist. His back muscles tensed and flexed as he dropped his head between his shoulders. “Harder… I need it harder.”

  “Feels so good.” Tristan reached for the lube and clicked open the top, dripping more slick on his cock as he slid out of Dylan’s body. He dropped the lube back on the bed and slammed into Dylan, withdrew and rammed forward again. Unintelligible words flowed from Dylan. He canted his hips and aimed for his gland.

  “Right there. So… Holy hell, yess!” Dylan’s words were drawn out, and his Texas drawl made Tristan’s dick grow even harder.

  “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping Dylan’s hips, driving himself forward. Dylan met him thrust for thrust. “Jack yourself for me.”

  “Aghh, fuck me, harder…”

  Dylan’s rhythm built and Tristan pistoned his hips to try to keep up. He hadn’t heard Dylan’s comment, couldn’t make out what he was saying with his face tucked into the pillow. But he knew when Dylan’s hand went to his dick and began stroking. Shit, the thought of Dylan jacking himself caused his hips to falter. He was close, and the way that ass gripped him, Dylan wasn’t too far off either. He looked down at his lover and smoothed his hand along the outline of his ass.

  “Beautiful.” His balls churned as he slid the heel of his palm up the length of Dylan’s spine and into his hair. He tightened his fingers in Dylan’s hair and pulled his head back, plunging himself mindlessly into the sweet, scorching tightness. He screwed his eyes shut and allowed Dylan to claim a piece of his heart. This man completely undid him. Dylan had turned out to be so much more than he’d bargained for.

  “Come for me, Dylan,” Tristan cried out and thrust into him one last time. Heat swirled in his spine, coursing swiftly through his veins, and his balls drew up.

  “Yes!” Dylan’s ass clamped down on his cock, his orgasm crashing over Tristan in mind-numbing waves of pleasure. His dick jerked, filling the condom with seed as he came hard in Dylan’s clenching ass.

  Tristan fell forward, his weight resting on Dylan just as his knees gave way. A groan and one last shudder was all the protest his body could manage when his cock softened and slipped out of Dylan’s heat. They were both breathless and gasping for air when he rolled them to their sides.

  “It’s in my hand,” Dylan finally managed to get out as he greedily sucked in air. He held his hand out, trying to keep his palm off the bed as he fell back on Tristan. Every nerve ending in his body was on high alert, his heart threatened to break through his rib cage, his breathing sounded more like wheezing, and he’d loved every single minute. Seconds later, minutes, or maybe even hours—he didn’t know, he’d lost all sense of time—Tristan finally made a noise and started moving under him.

  “Hmmm, what did you just say?”

  “It’s in my hand.” He was careful how he held his hand, but his hold was becoming harder to maintain when all he wanted to do was sleep.

  “What does that mean?” Tristan stopped moving from underneath him.

  “My load. I shot it in my hand.”

  “What?” Dylan had no idea what he’d said that was so confusing. Instead of resaying the words, he waited for Tristan to figure things out for himself. Enough time passed and Tristan finally responded.

  “Seriously? You caught it?” Tristan chuckled.

  Tristan gently pulled out from underneath him, reached for the towel, and cleaned his hand. Dylan just lay there, spread across the bed, his eyes closed. He felt Tristan moving around him as he slowly centered back into himself.

  What an incredible experience. He wouldn’t ever be the same again and that thought gripped his heart. How could he ever go back to the way things had been? Now that he’d had a taste, he wanted more. He craved the closeness and caring they had just shared. And he wanted it all with this very man.

  Dammit to hell, he was so screwed.

  Warm lips brushed across his, and he cracked his eyelids open.

  “I didn’t manage to close the top and the lube leaked all over the sheets, now the room smells like sex on a beach,” Tristan laughed, holding the bottle in his hand.

  “I don’t think I can move,” Dylan mumbled, keeping his eyes on the handsome man.

  “Was it too much?” Tristan asked, worry now showing on his face.

  “No. Yes. I don’t know,” Dylan said, closing his eyes. Since their sex had been life-altering and everything he wanted was bent over him right now, yeah, he guessed it had been too much.

  “You need a hot bath. It’ll help in the morning. I’ll change the sheets,” Tristan said, his voice trailing off as he walked away. Dylan heard the bathwater filling the tub, but he didn’t move, he just lay there. He actually didn’t want this moment to end. There had been no horrendous pain, at least not like he’d built up in his mind. What Tristan had done to him was definitely something he wanted more of in the future.

  The assumption he was a top seemed laughable now. He’d do that every day if possible. He never would have thought he’d have done anything like this. It must have been the Jäger. Dylan judged his drunkenness on a scale of one to ten and came up with nothing. He didn’t feel drunk and that made him smile. These were true, sober feelings after all.

  “Come, you can smile like that in the bath,” Tristan called out from the bathroom door. He heard water splashing so he rolled over and forced himself to sit up on the side of the bed. Tristan had used enough of that tropical-smelling massage oil on him that he left his body’s imprint on the sh
eet. Tristan had taken time with him tonight. He’d made this moment special and perfect. Something to embrace. Dylan ignored the fear of those thoughts and walked to the bathroom.

  He needed to put this entire night in its place. The memories of Tristan and the care he took would stay with him forever. No matter how things turned out for him, he’d always have this evening to fall back on.

  “I’m too oily. Let me shower first.” Dylan bypassed Tristan who was already lying back in the oversized tub.

  “No, come here. Let me wash you,” Tristan said, extending a hand. “Come on…the oils are all natural anyway. I’ll wash you in here.” Dylan got a good look at the marble bathtub that Tristan lay stretched out in.

  “Damn, I haven’t ever seen anything like that.” Dylan went for the tub. He stepped inside and turned to face Tristan. Not understanding where Tristan wanted him, he tried to sit at the opposite end of the tub, but Tristan stopped him.

  “Sit here.” Tristan guided Dylan back between his thighs. “Lie against my chest. Let me hold you.” Dylan turned around and scooted back into position. “How are you feeling?” Tristan asked, sounding concerned when he’d settled back against him.

  “I’m good. Honestly, tonight’s been amazing. You were incredible.”

  “Incredible, huh?” Tristan laughed then poured scrub onto a rag and began to wash him.

  “Yeah, I could get used to all of this,” Dylan joked.

  “I’m afraid I can too,” Tristan mumbled softly from behind him, placing a simple kiss close to Dylan’s ear.

  Dylan hadn’t missed the strange tone of Tristan’s voice. He cocked his head, turning back to get a better look. “Why afraid?”

  “I don’t know. There’s something different about you, Dylan. Something I can’t put my finger on, but I feel differently when I’m with you. It doesn’t make a lot of sense when I say it out loud.” Tristan sighed and gave him a small smile. “I know you have a family and you’re very set in your plans where they’re concerned and I respect that. I’m just afraid of being left wanting more with you.”

  Dylan didn’t know how to respond. He’d turned back around so Tristan couldn’t see his face. Tristan’s words had taken him off guard and made his heart rate speed up. He’d had those very same thoughts lying in bed.

  Maybe this was just some after-sex babble and he should take it as such. His precious plans for his future were actually nonexistent at this point. In a few months, all his children would be off to college, starting their lives and Teri would be living hers and he would be alone—that was the reality that he hadn’t said aloud. He’d spent so much time focusing on his family and hiding behind them, he hadn’t thought about himself, hadn’t made plans for the rest of his life. Somehow, Tristan had managed to bring all that to the forefront.

  Would there be moments like this over and over as he met different men? He knew that answer. Nothing would ever be this good again. He might be inexperienced, but he wasn’t dumb. The way he clicked with Tristan, the consideration he gave, didn’t just happen.

  “Hey, you,” Tristan nudged him. “You got quiet all of a sudden. I hope I haven’t said anything to upset you.” Tristan scooped the warm water over his chest.

  “You didn’t. I’m just tired’s all.” He looked down at the hand against his chest, then at the bath rug, then around the bathroom. Special for him, a day in the life for Tristan. He was way in over his head and needed to keep perspective.

  “Thank you for tonight, Dylan.” Tristan ran the rag over his shoulders then kissed the back of his neck. “Since the water’s getting cold, you’re tired, and it’s late, let’s get out. I want to snuggle you in bed,” Tristan said and tugged him up, so he could get out.

  What couldn’t have been more than a few hours later, Dylan’s alarm went off, rousing him from a sound sleep. He reached to silence the phone; whatever made him set his alarm couldn’t have been more important than his need for sleep. Unable to locate the object making the offending noise, he forced open his tired eyes and was met by Tristan’s confused stare.

  “Why the alarm today?” Tristan asked and pulled Dylan closer to him, snuggling back down to sleep.

  Dylan lay there several seconds, right on the edge of sleep, loving the feeling of a hard warm body pressed against him. Three minutes later, as he had scheduled, the alarm went off again. “Why does that damn thing keep going off every time we’re together? Power it off.”

  “I planned to go running this morning,” Dylan grumbled, pulling away from Tristan. It was now or never since he was leaving California today.

  “What time is it?” Tristan asked as he looked at his alarm clock on his side of the bed. “It’s five o’clock in the morning.”

  Dylan rolled to the side of the bed. He sat there a minute, assessing his body parts.

  “Where are you going jogging?” Tristan asked as the lamp came on flooding the dark room with light. That had him blinking like crazy, forgetting any aches in his body.

  “Man, that light’s bright.” He ground his fist into his eyes and rubbed. “I’ve always wanted to run Crystal Cove. I wanted to be there by six.” He forced himself up off the bed and stretched out his body.

  “You should have told me that. I wouldn’t have kept you up so late. Are you sore?” Tristan asked, propping himself up against the headboard. He had bedhead to the extreme. Dylan guessed he probably did too. They’d gone to bed right after the bath.

  “I told you about the trail at Crystal Cove when I got in the car yesterday, and I’m not too sore. I can feel my ass, I know it’s there, but it’s not enough to stop me from running this morning,” he said, looking over his shoulder. The covers were all messed up around Tristan’s hips, but just on one side of the bed. They’d slept close together last night, apparently all night. “My stuff’s in your car. Is your housekeeper here today?” he asked, walking to the bathroom.

  “No, not yet. I have an extra toothbrush in the drawer to the right,” Tristan called out. Dylan went for a towel. His slacks were somewhere in the house, and he was going to need them. He came back out, his hair brushed down, teeth clean, and a towel draped around his waist. Tristan was gone from the room. Dylan headed to the living room for his slacks when a nude Tristan came jogging across the kitchen floor, Dylan’s bag in his hand.

  “I would have gotten them.” Dylan smiled and took the offering.

  “So jogging like running?” Tristan asked, following along behind as Dylan walked toward the bathroom.

  “Yes, like running. I need to call a ride.” Dylan spun back around to the nightstand to retrieve his phone.

  “I’ll drive you. Maybe I can run with you. Are the other guys going?” That completely threw Dylan off as he pulled up the Uber app on his phone.

  “Do you run? I mean, you clearly work out, but I didn’t think you were a runner. I thought you were more into weight training,” Dylan surmised, looking at Tristan’s body. Hell, he’d take any opportunity to look at that hot body. Tristan came toward him.

  “I run all the time. If the guys are going, I can just drop you off, but if not, I can go,” Tristan offered, wrapping Dylan in his arms and pressing his lips against his neck.

  “Okay. If you want, I’d like the company. I’ve wanted to run this trail for a while. I saw it on the Discovery Channel.” Dylan reached up, threading his fingers in Tristan’s hair. Tristan kissed him before he pulled away. They needed to dress quickly and get moving if they were going to make it there by six. They could run the trail and still give him a couple of hours to get back to the hotel and change before the flight home.

  “It’s seventeen miles through the hills, but three of those are on the beach. I’m too tired to manage them all, but I’ll give it my best shot,” Dylan added excitedly before disappearing into the bathroom with his bag. He used a side dressing room to give Tristan his own space to dress.

  Clearly Dylan was a serious runner, not the occasional jogger Tristan had originally thought. His body looked like
a runner’s, lean and tall, and damn, he looked good in those running shorts. Tristan had dressed and come along because of the fucking night they’d shared last night. He certainly hadn’t anticipated the trail would be seventeen miles… The most he’d ever run was a few miles on the treadmill. Certainly nothing more than five and that had to have been a few years ago. What was he thinking?

  “I don’t want to hold you back,” Tristan said, pulling his Ferrari into a parking space. They were close to on time, only a little past six in the morning. Dylan was already out the passenger side door, money in hand to pay for parking.

  “God, it’s beautiful out here,” Dylan exclaimed as he came back to the car, spreading his arms out toward the ocean. “This is exactly why I wanted to come here.”

  “I don’t want to hold you back,” Tristan repeated, but Dylan was off, heading to an area where other runners were already warming up. The experienced stretching he saw left no doubt Dylan could run the entire seventeen miles without a problem. He really needed a way out of this before he embarrassed himself. “I’ll hold you back.”

  “You said you run all the time. You’ll do fine. You can set the pace.” Dylan lifted one leg close to his chest, then the other, before dropping down to stretch his legs out another way. Tristan wondered how Dylan felt about walking as a pace, but instead of asking, he followed Dylan’s lead, mimicking his movements. The guy was on a natural high. It had to be the fresh air, because he hadn’t slept for more than a few hours after drinking more in a ten minute period than Tristan had ever seen anyone drink before, and that was less than twelve hours ago.

  He said a prayer as they set off.

  Seven miles in and Tristan had seen Dylan’s frustration, though he’d tried to hide it, for the last three miles, but at least Tristan was trying and still standing somewhat upright. Tristan was huffing hard, dripping with sweat, and dragging. But he never complained, never said anything, not one word, and it wasn’t only because his breath wouldn’t allow talking. He wanted to impress Dylan with his stamina; he just needed to find it first. Thank fuck, Dylan dropped his speed to a slower-paced jog. He could handle that. Maybe.