Crossing Borders

by Z. A. Maxfield

  Tristan stretched out along Michael’s body, moving against him. “Thought about you all week, which, really, I had midterms ‑‑ you could at least get out of my head when I’m busy.”

  “Sorry,” said Michael, closing his eyes. “Probably.”

  “But I kept thinking about how you spilled your coffee at Borders when you were looking at me…and just how you were looking at me. It never fails to make me hot for you.” Tristan was still holding his hands and licking and biting the base of his neck.

  “Oh,” moaned Michael as Tristan shifted both his hands into one and found his balls with the other.

  “And, really, the brain cells I needed for midterms were so different than the ones that kept showing me naked pictures of you…and I did really well in all my classes, so I think that shows a certain mastery.”

  “Mastery,” echoed Michael numbly as Tristan picked up the pace on his cock, stroking the whole length.

  “What do you want, Michael?” asked Tristan, his cheeks burning and his eyes shining with need. “Can I taste you?”

  “Um, yeah,” he said, pulling his hand free to get a condom out from under the pillow for Tristan.

  “I want to taste your skin, Michael. Hold on to that,” he said against Michael’s balls.

  Michael’s hands stroked his hair, feeling it sliding silkily along the skin of his hips and thighs, moving when Tristan moved. It was the most erotic sensation he’d ever felt.

  “Love your hair, Tristan.” He closed his eyes.

  Suddenly Tristan was in his field of vision again, right in his face, smiling.

  “Thanks for remembering to call me Tristan,” he said brightly. “And by the way, we both know I couldn’t hold your arms if you didn’t let me, so how about bringing some riot cuffs home from work, okay?” Just like that, Michael felt his lover’s mouth on his balls again, and he almost laughed. Almost, until Tristan took them into his mouth and made him moan instead.

  “Oh, Tristan,” he sighed as Tristan nuzzled him. “You know, I expected some amateur licking and a pretty girly blowjob.”

  Tristan stopped what he was doing and slapped Michael’s dick with his hand.

  “Ouch.” Michael laughed. “Jeez, hear me out. There is no such thing as a bad blowjob, you know.”

  Tristan glared at him, waiting, his hand wrapped around Michael’s dick to keep it busy while he listened to Michael’s nonsense.

  “Oh…” Michael reacted to the brush of Tristan’s nail over his glans. “I never counted on your sheer unabashed interest in all things dick.” Michael stroked his hair. “And this? I’ll give you about forty years to stop.”

  Tristan muttered something under his breath and ducked his head back to Michael’s cock, and by the time Tristan rolled the condom down on it, he’d seen and touched and tasted every part of him and had decided that he wanted to stroke Michael from the inside, as well as suck him.

  “Lube?” He held his hand out, his head still between Michael’s legs, sucking the inside of a thigh. He felt the lube drop into his hands. “’Kay, thanks,” he said, returning to his task.

  “Oh, yes, Tristan,” he sighed, as Tristan’s tongue flicked the sensitive slit at the tip of his cock, and then Tristan worked the bead on his tongue against it. “Oh, there, baby,” he moaned again, arching, giving him access. “Oh, that’s so…shit!” He jerked like a puppet every time the stud in Tristan’s tongue ran up and down the length of his cock.

  Tristan knew he didn’t have any particular skill in this area, but he’d spent the week thinking about and listing the most exciting things he’d felt at Michael’s hands and decided to try them all on him. What was it Michael had said about him, big air, big rush? Well, hell yeah. And Michael tasted so good ‑‑ at least he had before the latex ‑‑ his skin all salt and sweat and man that Tristan wanted to just devour him. He used his tongue piercing to tease him a little and discovered that Michael liked that a lot. A whole lot. Michael writhed, his moans becoming more frequent and his hips shifting. Tristan wanted to find that special place inside of Michael that would go boom up his spine while Tristan sucked his dick. Actually, that might be the sum total of his new plan, the plan prime, now that his old plan had changed his life the way it had.

  Fingers plus mouth plus tongue piercing plus wild, unbridled enthusiasm, plus maybe a modicum of want-you-more-than-I-ever-the-hell-wanted-anyone-in-my-damn-life equals ‑‑

  “Tristan!” shouted Michael, jerking off the futon in shock as he filled the latex inside Tristan’s mouth. “Oh, damn, that was…”

  Tristan slipped the latex off Michael’s softening erection, the thought of what he’d done making him almost cream himself. Tristan couldn’t help staying where he was, next to that slick, softening cock, taking in the smell of sex and Michael all at once.

  “Oh,” he moaned. “Gonna come just from watching how damn gorgeous you are. Okay if I…um…” He still had his fingers in Michael, stretching him, opening him.

  “Yes,” said Michael. “I…just…oh, yes.”

  Tristan held out his hand for another condom, rolling this one quickly down on his throbbing flesh. He felt like he was going to tear at the seams, his cock was so hard. He looked down at Michael, the man all golden and rosy and waiting for him.

  “Oh, Michael,” he said, sliding his cock into Michael. “So tight,” he sighed. “Never felt this…not like you…so hot.”

  “Yeah,” sighed Michael, his cock hardening again, coming back to life between them. “Make me fly.”

  “Uhn…going to fly together,” Tristan panted, giving him everything he had, holding Michael’s knees in his forearms and bracing himself for long, hard strokes. “Going to make you give it up again,” he said, hitting Michael’s gland and causing him to tremble beneath him. He rocked into Michael, eyes closed, savoring the feeling for as long as he could. Sweat trickled down his back, and for a while, there was nothing but the movement, the moment, and the man with him.

  “Tristan. Oh, shit, baby, you…only you.”

  “Me,” agreed Tristan. “Yeah, only me.” He felt a rush of heat between them as Michael came again. Michael jerked and shuddered in his arms as if taken by surprise by his orgasm. Tristan still took him with long, slow strokes until he felt his own balls tighten, and then he lost himself, pushing so hard into Michael he heard him gasp. He held himself there and spent, his whole body feeling like it siphoned from his dick.

  “Uhn.” His breath caught on the last waves of his orgasm, giving voice to his pleasure in noises he didn’t recognize as coming from his own throat.

  “Oh, that?” He fell limply into Michael’s arms. “Was poetry.”

  Michael gasped as Tristan pulled out, removed the condom, and tied it off. Michael pulled him tight, the cum sliding between them getting sticky and sweaty and oh-so-slick. “Michael.” Tristan laughed. “Guess what. I came.”

  “Tristan. Guess what, me too. You are so beautiful, did I mention that?” he asked.

  He had, Tristan knew, mentioned that before. “Nope, never. Tell me all about it?” He preened, pleased with the dazed look on Michael’s face.

  “Just looking at you makes me hard,” Michael said, stroking his hair. “And that’s if you were bald.”

  “Oh, hell no,” said Tristan.

  “With the hair?” said Michael. “You’re lethal.”

  “What, this hair?” Tristan teased, moving his head so it fell around them. “My same old boring hair?” He snapped his head and snaked it down Michael’s chest and stomach until it tickled his balls.

  “Somebody’s going to need a shower,” said Michael. “You’re going to smell like me.”

  “Wish I could taste like you,” said Tristan. “How could we lose the latex?”

  Michael went dead silent. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Well, can’t we get tested or something?” He sat there happily contemplating what it would be like to feel Michael come down his throat.

  “I’m clean,” Michael sa
id. “I get tested every six months, and there hasn’t been anybody except you for a while.”

  “I see. Well, that leaves me, and while I practice safe sex, it’s been more…how shall I say…recent and maybe indiscriminate. Okay, I see the problem. I could still get tested now and again in six months…”

  “Um, yeah…you could.” Michael remained silent.

  “Oh…oh,” said Tristan, realizing he was talking about an exclusive relationship. Duh. “I didn’t think, how dumb. I was just problem solving out loud. It’s not like I think we should be…” He turned to Michael. “I was just thinking in terms of getting the taste of latex out of my mouth. I’m…I…”

  “It’s okay,” Michael said with a laugh. “Sometimes you think a little ahead of me.”

  “Yeah, oh, damn.” Tristan was thinking hard. It was their second date, and he’d practically… That clinches it, he thought. I’m a chick. “I’m hungry,” he said then, knowing that would derail the whole conversation, and Michael would go straight into foodie mode.

  “I have just the thing to eat in front of the fire.” said Michael, already rising to his feet. Tristan followed him, stopping behind him when he got to the fridge. Michael whipped around with a flourish, a large platter in his hands.

  “Whoa,” said Tristan, jumping back. “It’s official, you’re the master of the meat and cheese platter.”

  “Not just any meat and cheese platter,” said Michael. “I got apples in Oak Glen, right off the trees.”

  “Oh, fresh apples?”

  “Yep, and a pie that will make your toes curl.”

  “Oh,” said Tristan again, wondering if Michael knew just how much his toes were curling already, just from seeing the man smile.

  Michael put the platter down and picked up a colander of washed apples, both red and green, and a wicked, lethal-looking knife. He began expertly slicing the fruit into eighths, removing the seeds and stems until they were cut into neat wedges with the skin still on.

  “Here, you carry this.” He handed the platter to Tristan and went back to the fridge, opening it and then closing it again to lean against it, as if weighing something in his mind.

  “You know, Sparky,” he said, then quickly corrected himself. “Tristan. It’s not like I have some big problem with you having a beer every now and then. Hell, I drank beer when I was your age.”

  “Michael, I…” began Tristan, but Michael stopped him.

  “No, really, I trust you to drink responsibly. I shouldn’t be such a hard ass. I know you probably drink with your friends… Maybe I’ve been a little too conscious of our age difference, and maybe I’ve been a shit about it.”

  “Michael, how old are you?” asked Tristan. “I don’t believe you’ve mentioned it.”

  “I’ll be twenty-eight on Valentine’s Day,” said Michael. “I’m almost ten years older than you.”

  “Can’t argue the math.”

  “Does that make a difference to you?” asked Michael.

  “No, not really. Except now I can take advantage of your dotage to wring you out for presents and money, like Anna Nicole Smith did to that billionaire guy,” Tristan teased.

  “Shut up,” said Michael, going a little red.

  “What, are you kidding? You worry about that sort of thing? Age?”

  “Tristan, you can have anyone you want,” said Michael. “You have no idea how desirable you are. I feel…honored to be the first.”

  Tristan put the platter down on the table behind him. He took in the man standing uncomfortably still in front of the fridge. “I don’t want you to feel honored. I want you to feel like…good candy. Something I want all the time.” Tristan advanced on Michael, taking his face between his palms. “Something I can’t wait to get my hands and my mouth on.”

  “Sparky,” sighed Michael against his lips. “Candy?”

  “Mmmhmm. The best kind of candy, the kind you don’t share.” Tristan looked at him. “Unless you have to.”

  “Oh. I wouldn’t say you had to worry about that.”

  “Michael?” Tristan ran his tongue across Michael’s full lower lip and caught it carefully between his teeth.

  “Hm?” said Michael, dazed, caught between Tristan and the cold metal fridge.

  “You don’t have to worry about that, either.”

  “Right now,” qualified Michael.

  “Right now,” agreed Tristan. “But I can speak for the foreseeable future as well. I want to be your guy.” Tristan buffeted him with a shoulder.

  “You are my guy. Am I yours?”

  “Mmmhmm. You’re my guy. My guy.”

  “I like that,” said Michael. “Damn, the apples are going to turn brown.” He looked at the food. “Do you want to eat?”

  “Sure. I’m hungry.”

  “Okay, then let’s eat. Can you get the pie out of the fridge?” asked Michael, going for the platter. “And the whipped cream?”

  “Ooh, whipped cream. Now you’ve gone and made it official. You are my guy.”

  “Really. Listen, Sparky, if…I mean…would you like a beer?”

  Tristan laughed. “That must have cost you.” He held the pie with one hand and the can of whipped topping in the other. “But for your information, Officer Helmet, I don’t drink…never have, really. I prefer speed to stupidity, so I never got into it. Think of me as having a high-octane brain. No alcohol necessary.”

  “But you asked me if I was going to offer you a beer last week.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t say I’d accept it,” said Tristan. “You hadn’t offered me anything else yet, either. I just wanted something to drink. To be fair, I’ve been known to drink maybe one beer in an evening. Once or twice.”

  “Sparky,” began Michael, but Tristan cut him off.

  “And, yes, that means tonight we had our very first fight over nothing. Let that be a lesson to you.” He winked and walked into the living room. “You can make it up to me by getting Edward’s e-mail address for me. I think he needs my brothers to befriend him and give him a safe place to vent. What do you think?”

  Michael’s eyes followed him thoughtfully. “I think you are more than the sum of your parts.”

  Tristan stuck his head around a corner and grinned. “But my parts? Wish you would get your parts in here. I have a can of whipped cream, and I’m not afraid to use it!”

  Chapter Eleven

  As he had on their first date, Michael found himself awake and watching as Tristan slept in the glow of the fire. Periodically, he added a log, keeping the room warm. Experimenting with touch, he found he barely had to ripple a light fingertip over his sleeping lover, and Tristan would move, twisting until he was melted into Michael’s embrace. Stroking Tristan’s cheek got Michael a sleepy kiss. Touching Tristan’s back or sliding a hand down his spine earned Michael the satisfying squeeze of arms around him. And squeezing Tristan’s ass got him a fully awake and erect boy-toy looking for love.

  “Hey,” said Tristan, pushing the hair out of his face as he climbed on top of Michael, rocking against him until they were both hard. Tristan grinned sleepily. “Ready or not…”

  “Oh, ready,” breathed Michael, kissing him. “I have never seen anything like you before.”

  “Like it?” said Tristan, flipping his hair. “Like what you see?”

  “Oh, if you only knew,” said Michael.

  “I know.” Tristan smiled. “The way you looked at me in the bookstore made me feel like a porn star.”

  “Sorry,” said Michael.

  Tristan ground his hips against Michael’s so hard he gasped. “Look at me,” said Tristan, nipping his lips. “Nothing, nothing has ever made me hot like having your eyes on me.”

  “Ooh, a little bossy boy-toy,” sighed Michael happily.

  “I’m going to make you squirm,” said Tristan, teasing Michael’s neck with his lips and teeth. “Going to make you beg.” He caught Michael’s balls with one hand, giving them the lightest squeeze. “Going to make you do me all night long ‑‑
hey, think I could ride you?”

  “Right now?” asked Michael, wondering if Tristan was up to it.

  “Yeah, then I could…” He whispered into Michael’s ear. “…myself on your cock all I want.”

  “Holy crap. You are going to kill me dead.”

  “Yeah, probably. Just show me where the chalk is so I can draw a line around your body.” Tristan laughed, lunging for the lube and a condom. “Here, get me ready. Okay?”

  “Oh, um,” said Michael, not sure what just happened. “All right.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was remembering with fondness the sweetly hesitant boy he’d brought home the week before. Tristan twisted on top of Michael turning with a great show of effort so that his mouth could be on Michael’s cock and Michael had the option of reciprocating. Michael opened the lube and found himself face to…butt…with Tristan’s ass.

  “I’ll just…um…be here while you do that,” Tristan said, and Michael felt something warm and slippery slide over his cock. Tristan nuzzled down into the creases between Michael’s legs and body, his hair slipping and sliding on Michael’s thighs.

  “Oh, when you do that…I…” said Michael.

  “Yeah?” hummed Tristan, around Michael’s balls. He pulled Michael’s knees up and dipped his head between his legs, slithering his tongue down the sensitive skin leading to Michael’s hole. Tristan’s tongue bead was going to make him crazy. Michael pressed a finger into Tristan’s tight heat and was getting ready to insert another when he felt Tristan’s tongue firmly invade him.

  “Oh, shit!” He jumped, his pubic bone hitting Tristan’s chin on the way up and snapping his teeth together.

  “Whoa! Danger, Will Robinson,” murmured Tristan, going back to tonguing his hole. “Does Michael like this? I think he does.”

  “Jeez, baby,” said Michael, who slipped a third finger in and let Tristan rock on his hand, changing to two thumbs and brushing his gland with each in turn.

  “I think…” said Tristan panting. “Oh, I want…” he moaned.

  Michael withdrew his thumbs and took Tristan’s hips with the intention of helping him turn around. Tristan shifted and turned again, this time more clumsily, his full, heavy cock banging Michael’s chest and dripping on it as he positioned himself. He rolled a condom down Michael’s dick with a practiced flick of his hands. “I need…Michael,” he said, impaling himself in one swift motion, sucking in a lungful of air.