by Dawn Sister
He still wanted to go out and kick Troy Parker’s ass into next Wednesday and the only thing stopping him was the fact that Tristan had asked him, no told him, not to. He had thought for a long time about why Tristan was defending the guy, considering Troy had just beaten him to a pulp; but thinking about it had just made his head ache and he had eventually fallen asleep himself; his face buried in Tristan’s hair; another thing he would have to think about later because thinking about why he wasn’t freaking out that he was enjoying laying in bed, holding Tris in his arms was also making his head hurt.
Danny shifted his position again and the bra wire dug so painfully into his rib he was sure the damn thing had drawn blood. He exclaimed in pain and shifted about until his hand found the fastening. After fiddling with it for a few moments he sighed with exasperation. It was so much easier when the bra was on someone else. He remembered that Tristan was still wearing his. Not wanting him to wake up in the same discomfort, he felt down Tristan’s back until he found the fastening and deftly flicked it open. See? Much easier when it was on someone else!
Next he thought about the suspender belt. Tristan was a little slimmer than him but he was sure the belt was still digging in his friend’s hips just as much as his own. He reached down to the belt around his own hips too and unfastened it without much problem. He let out a sigh of relief, then fumbled to find and release Tristan’s suspender.
As he unfastened it he was suddenly struck with the irony of the situation. He had hoped to be doing this tonight, yes, but not with his best friend and roommate but with Steph Baxter, who had been giving him all the right signals for days. The thought that this could have been her, instead of Tristan if it wasn’t for that asshole Troy Parker, filled him with anger again. He groaned in frustration and, strangely, confusion.
Tristan stirred,
“Bud, your falsies are getting’ in my face.” He whispered,
“I can’t unfasten the damn thing because you’re lying on my other arm.” Danny told him. Tristan sat up suddenly and looked down at himself with mild alarm, then back up at Danny who had also sat up and was shaking his arm to get the circulation back,
“Did you jus’ try t’ undress me?” Tristan asked, with more than a little shock,
“Well, yeah,” Danny stuttered, “but I was feeling uncomfortable in these things and I figured you would be too, and I didn’t want you to wake up in any more pain than you would be in any way and…” he was rambling he knew, trying to explain away why he was caught trying to undress his gay best friend in bed.
Tristan smiled a half smile that was almost a smirk at Danny’s discomfort and awkwardness,
“Aah, Danny, I never knew ya cared so much, bud.” He undid his blouse and shucked it off followed by the bra and the ample padding. Danny suddenly realised he was already seeing more of Tristan’s body than he really wanted to in his present state of mind so he quickly got off the bed and crossed to his own where he grabbed some pyjama bottoms and a t shirt and dived into the bathroom to change,
“I’ll just change in here,” he croaked like a preadolescent teenager, and left Tristan feeling a little confused since he had never had a problem changing in front of him before.
Tristan sat stiffly on the edge of his bed and shuffled out of the rest of his costume that Danny had so kindly unfastened for him. Had he been trying to do it so as not to disturb him? That had been kind. He pulled on a pair of pyjama bottoms and his favourite hoody sweater, wincing in pain as he stretched his bruised ribs. They hurt but not so bad to make him think they were broken. He gingerly touched his cheek and eye, feeling the swelling there. Troy Parker was a bastard.
Tristan shook his head. The guy was totally fucked up. Troy had kissed him and he had reacted to that kiss because he was drunk and horny and completely stupid. He shuddered to think what Troy had actually had in mind. Being beaten to a pulp was probably one of the better options. Whatever Troy’s confusions were Tristan had no wish to be part of them.
Tristan had always been able to take care of himself. He had always been confident and in control and Troy had taken that control away from him with a swipe of his hand. He had put him in a position where he could have done anything to him and he wouldn’t have been able to fight back. He had been scared, perhaps for the first time in his life. The only positive to come out of this was the fact that he had woken up in Danny’s arms. He knew he would have to explain to Danny why his normally tough, in control, confident roommate had cried himself to sleep over a punch but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Danny was angry enough just thinking that Troy had beaten him up. The thought of telling him the rest was beginning to make him feel sick.
Suddenly the wave of nausea became overwhelming and Tristan dove across the room pushing past a startled Danny emerging from the bathroom. Danny turned to see Tristan only just make it to the toilet bowl and throw up noisily. He heaved a sympathetic sigh and walked over to hold his friend’s head until he was finished,
“I guess I was drunker than I thought, bud.” Tristan croaked weakly as he wiped his mouth,
“Or you could have concussion like Reuben said.” Danny suggested. He was still holding Tristan’s head and rubbing his back soothingly, “I can still take you to the hospital if you want.” Tristan shook his head,
“I don’t wanna go to the hospital, bud, really. I just had too much to drink and I…” he stopped to throw up again, and then fell back against the bath panel wiping his mouth and breathing deeply to control the waves of nausea. Man, he hated throwing up. He drew his knees up to his chin and buried his face in his hands. Danny sat beside him in almost the same position,
“Ok, I won’t take you to the hospital, Tris.” He said softly, laying his hand on Tristan’s shoulder, “I want you to talk to me though.” Tristan looked up at him, his eyes were blood shot but still ocean blue,
“About what?” Tristan asked, frowning,
“About what really happened in that bathroom.” Danny said nonchalantly, “because I know you weren’t drunk enough to be so sick. And I don’t think you have concussion. And I know for a fact that the Tristan Gillman I know wouldn’t cry himself to sleep because an asshole like Troy Parker had gotten a lucky punch.”
Tristan buried his face again and groaned. How was Danny going to take this? He was always so protective of his friends. He was always the one ready to defend any of them if there was any trouble. He didn’t want him to get into trouble, but he also didn’t want him to think he was keeping things from him, because they told each other everything: well almost everything,
“Troy didn’t just hit me.” Tristan told him,
“I know, he kicked you too, the bastard.” Danny unconsciously moved his hand down to Tristan’s ribs, gently touching the bruised area and swallowing hard, “It hurt much?” he asked softly,
“Like hell.” Tristan admitted, “They ain’t broken though. I’ve had broken ribs before when I got thrown ridin’ Rodeo.” Danny laughed and shook his head. Tristan’s life always fascinated him. The most he had ever done outside of school was ride a few waves at the beach. Tristan had been riding horses since before he could walk. He’d been helping his dad out on his family’s ranch since he’d been old enough to sit in a saddle on his own. Danny hadn’t even had a summer job before he’d come to College. He had certainly never ridden a horse,
“So what else did Troy, the bastard, do to you that made you cry yourself to sleep in your best friend’s arms?” Danny asked, giving his friend a questioning look,
“He kissed me.” Tristan told him without any preamble, “He grabbed a hold o’ me, pushed me up against the wall and stuck his tongue down my throat.”
“He did what?” Danny’s tone was quiet, but no longer gentle, Tristan could hear the anger there, the pure white hot anger. “I will fucking kill him.” He stood up and stormed out of the bathroom. Tristan followed him a little slower because of his sore ribs. He caught his arm before he opened the door,
“Wait, Danny, where’re you goin’ in yer P J’s, bud?”
“To get Troy Parker and tell him exactly what I think of him with my fists.”
“Danny, I don’t want you getting’ into trouble because o’ me.” Danny had a fearsome temper when he was pushed, and Troy Parker had always pushed, this time too far,
“Get off me Tristan.” Danny yelled, “Why are you defending him?”
“I ain’t defendin’ him, bud,” Tristan tried to calm his friend down with a soothing tone, “I’m tryin’ to stop you makin’ a mistake.”
“He’s the one that made a mistake if he thought he could kiss you and then beat you to a pulp. Hell, Tris, that’s sexual assault, you could have him arrested.” The sting had gone out of his voice though and the muscles in his arm had relaxed a little under Tristan’s hand.
Tristan stared at his friend. He was still raging, and he couldn’t help feeling a little flattered that Danny was so willing to defend his honour. He was also a little afraid of Danny’s temper. He hung his head and wouldn’t meet Danny’s eye as he continued to explain,
“It ain’t sexual assault if both parties are consentin’, Danny.” He stared at his feet and shuffled them, feeling suddenly uncomfortable under Danny’s astonished stare,
“What are you talking about, Tris? Consenting? Are you saying you wanted to kiss him?”
“No, not when he first walked into the bathroom. I thought he was gonna just hit me and go. But then he started sproutin’ all this crap about not bein’ able to get what he wanted in life and how he was so angry with me all the time because I could jus’ go out and get whatever I wanted. He looked so upset I felt sorry for him.”
“So you gave him a sympathy smooch? Tris, what the hell?”
“I didn’t jump him Danny, if that’s what you think. He jumped me. He called me by my name and I was so surprised because he only ever calls me “Fag”.” Danny flinched at the horrible word, “He turned nasty again and told me that was exactly what I was so I told him where he could stick my sympathy and I tried to leave. That’s when he jumped me.”
“So, when did this become consensual?” Danny asked in confusion. Tris looked at him with a shamed expression on his face,
“When I turned the tables on him and kissed him back.” Danny gasped in exasperation, “I was drunk, Danny, n’ horny from kissing that guy at the bar. And Troy wasn’t exactly holdin’ anythin’ back, you know what I mean.” Danny made a face as Tristan waved his hand in the general direction of his groin, “He was horny as hell too, ya know what I’m sayin’?”
“That’s too much info, bud.” Danny told him, frowning, and waving his hands in front of him as if to erase the image from his brain. He turned away from Tristan taking a deep breath before continuing, “Whatever you did to continue it, Tristan, it doesn’t change the fact that he ambushed you, then he hit and kicked you. You should report him.” His dark eyes pleaded softly with his friend. Tristan shook his head,
“What am I gonna say?” he asked sitting down on Danny’s bed heavily, “That Troy Parker kissed me? Everyone knows he’s a homophobe and everyone knows that I’m gay. He can say he hit me because I kissed him and who do ya think the cops will believe? The evidence is against me, Danny. I kiss guys, that’s what I do, everyone saw me kiss that guy at the bar. These are hardly good character references for me are they? I’m just a common slut.” He sounded near to tears again and Danny sat down beside him, putting his arm around his shoulders. For Tristan, in his confused and upset state, Danny’s comfort made him feel ten times better, and safer. Tristan bit his lip to try to hold back the tears that threatened to come again but he didn’t succeed and he crumpled again into Danny’s shoulder.
Danny held him, burying his face into Tristan’s dark hair again, smelling its spicy scent and feeling just as confused as his friend was right now, but for completely different reasons. He tried to ignore what he was feeling and concentrate on Tristan and making him feel better,
“You are not a slut, Tristan.” He said with more than a little heat. Tristan snorted derisively,
“I slept with jus’ about every gay guy on campus, Danny. Everyone knows that.”
“Bullshit, Tris, not everyone. Just your friends, who you can trust. It doesn’t make you a slut, you just like sex that’s all. So do I, and I don’t get called a slut.”
Tristan chuckled. The two friends lay back against Danny’s headboard. Danny still had his arm around him and Tristan quite liked that he hadn’t removed it,
“Troy Parker still didn’t have the right to beat you up so bad, no matter what his motives. He went into that bathroom to get you, any way he could and kissing you and beating you up was all part of his plan.”
“What, you c’n read minds now?” Tristan asked, his voice muffled as it lay on Danny’s chest. Danny felt his hot breath through his shirt and wondered why he still wasn’t freaking out because of the way they were lying together, “like Steph the psych?”
Danny chuckled ironically. Steph was a psychology major and was always analysing their friendships,
“You know, that’s another reason I want to beat Troy Parker into next week. If it wasn’t for him I could have been in this exact position with someone a little less heavy and a lot more curvy.”
“You mean, Steph.” Tristan snorted remembering that she had taken his place on Danny’s knee when he’d gone to the bar,
“Yes I mean Steph.”
“You sweet on her, Danny?”
“Maybe. She was hot in that costume tonight.”
“You were hot in yours.” Tristan lifted his head, smiling, his tongue running along the top of his teeth. That same gesture that had distracted Danny so much when he had dared Tristan to kiss that guy, “I was hot in mine.” Danny nodded dumbly, his breath hitching in his throat at the seductive tone in Tristan’s voice, “You sore, because you didn’t get laid tonight, Danny?”
“No.” Danny frowned as Tristan moved further up the bed so that their faces were level. He swallowed hard. What was Tristan playing at? Was he coming on to him? What was more surprising: was Danny Taylor not freaking out?
All the times he had looked at Tristan tonight, touched him, held him, fallen asleep holding him in his arms. He hadn’t once felt anything but comfortable. Holding Tristan in his arms had felt right, somehow. Was he still drunk?
“Tris, what are you doing?” he asked. Tristan was staring at him, his eyes dark with desire. His face was so close now Danny could feel his breath on his lips. Suddenly he wanted to taste those lips on his. His hand moved up to hold the back of Tristan’s neck and pull him to him. Their lips touched and tongues brushed against each other.
Tristan gasped, and moaned. Danny felt his entire body go crazy with the sensations. Tristan was kissing him, he was kissing Tristan. He was kissing a man, his best friend and it felt great. Tristan tasted so different, like gum, and aftershave and beer. It sent his senses into over drive. Tristan’s body, pushed against his, felt amazing, firm and vibrant and sexy.
Tristan kissed his jaw and his neck, eliciting a moan from deep inside Danny. His desire was overwhelming. Please don’t let this stop he told himself, but he knew it should. They were both still drunk. This was a reaction to the events of the evening. Friends sharing traumatic events often ended up feeling sexual attraction. Danny was trying to rationalise in his head but couldn’t because Tristan had lifted his T Shirt and was kissing his chest and nipples,
“Tris,” Danny warned, gasping with pleasure though as Tristan took his left nipple in his mouth and bit gently on it,
“Dan!” Tristan whispered back. He very rarely ever called him that and hearing him whisper it so softly sent Danny’s desire over the edge.
He pushed Tristan off him and over onto his back. He pressed his lips to his again and his tongue pushed for entrance. Tristan’s hands were in his hair pulling him down onto him. Their groins were touching now and Danny could feel Tristan’s erection, hard against the top of his thigh.
Danny could feel his own pressing against Tristan’s leg. Their lips parted and Danny lifted himself up, his weight on his arms. He looked down at Tristan, into his deep blue eyes,
