Tristan

Tristan by Henry H. Hilliard

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Chapter 37

The cabin lights had been lowered and a cosy atmosphere immediately replaced the hustle and bustle of departure. Voices were lowered and so were the window shutters, excluding even the starlight. From where Tristan could see above the tall seat backs that hemmed him in, there were thin pencils of light from reading lamps and hands reaching up to fiddle endlessly with them to get them right. The soft glow from electronic screens cast unearthly shadows on the faces he could see sideways. In this womb it was difficult to tell what hour it was--but then travelling for nine hours across six time zones made the question redundant.

Tristan was in the middle seat and Colton was on the aisle. It was better for his long legs, he argued with some justification, and it gave him the opportunity to engage more fulsomely with the female attendants who, for their part perhaps, only returned a meretricious response to the `cocky college jock'. One obviously gay fellow, however, positively danced attendance upon him, needlessly tucking a small blanket over his lap and asking if he required water and other comestibles to the neglect of the other travellers. It was a decided squeal of delight that was produced when he elicited (without too much effort) that Colton was indeed a college quarterback.

Colton was on his phone with the ear buds in. Tristan wondered for a moment if it were lesbian porn, but a glance showed him it was a football match. Colton saw him looking and pressed his knee sideways in a companionable gesture.

It had been a fun two days, with Tristan's earlier tristesse instantly evaporating when Colton appeared with Brady in the same old truck in which they had been `dirt roading' only a few weeks before.

"This house is so cool!" Brady kept repeating, sometimes varying it with rad' and sick'. He stood beside Dino and took a selfie.

"Which room do you want?" asked Tristan, "The room off the kitchen has a new bed and the room next to Rachel and Leesha's room has a Murphy bed." These were new to Colton too, as was the striking red flooring in the once-dated kitchen.

"Are the girls here?" asked Brady in hope.

"Sorry Brade, they're in Dallas."

Brady took the maid's room because he reasoned it was cooler. Up in the loft they played pool and then Colton remembered the canvas blinds that his mother had sewn that were still in the back of Brady's truck. They were hung on the sides of the milk float and, when lowered, they formed a cheerful blue-and-white protection for the grill and the other equipment when not in use.

"We're having duck for dinner," announced Tristan, with some pride mingled with a slight pang that he might stuff it up. They were sitting on the shady front porch drinking beer.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We cook the breasts on the grill and I've made a fruit sauce in the kitchen to pour on. I was bored. I suppose you think that's girly."

"Fuck no!" said Colton. "That's sexist. Nothin' wrong with a dude cookin', Tris, long as we don't have to have a lace table cloth or somethin'."

"Right, I'd take the vase of flowers off too," joked Tristan.

"Don't y'all get your apron strings in a knot, Betty," countered the quarterback with a chuckle. "Hey, Brade, want to take the bikes and look at the College? You too Tris."

"Well, I've got to pack..." began Tristan.

"You can ride a bike, dude?"

"Yeah, of course, but it's been a while and I don't..."

Tristan was pressured into agreeing and so he rode Parker's bike while Brady rode Hollis'. Tristan was a little slow and looked to be in pain, while Colton put on great bursts of speed, standing on the peddles with his buttocks flexing, as could be seen by those peddling at a more sedate pace.

A lot of the buildings were closed for the summer, but Colton's key opened the Football Centre. Brady was impressed. Tristan was rather quiet and squirmed a lot. Colton noticed and, when Grady had gone ahead, he whispered, "What's up, buddy?"

"That's a very good question, Colt," replied Tristan, archly and looking a little sheepish.

"Oh my God! You haven't got..."

"Yeah. The Hindenburg is docked and I think that bike ride might have just caused it to burst into flames."

"Oh the humanity!" cried Colton in mock horror. "Fuck, I want to see you open, dude," he breathed. He gave his groin a squeeze and Tristan blushed.

Soon they were back home and sitting, beer in hand, with their feet on Johnny Unitas' door. Colton was wearing just a pair of USMC issue `silkies'. These were in olive drab green and he had bought several pairs online when he was back home. They were just the right combination of tight and roomy and were very masculine. "Brady has something he wants to ask you, Tris," said Colton out of nowhere.

"Yeah?" said Tristan, looking away from the television. "Ask away, Brade."

"Well, Jasmijn..."

"The hot Dutch picker?"

"Yeah," said Brady, illustrating the topic with a picture on his phone. Tristan saw that she was a tall girl with white-blonde hair and a great smile--she was hot looking for sure. "Well, she was goin' down on me in her trailer an' I was goin' down on her..."

"A soixante neuf."

"Don't come over all posh on me, Tris. I know what that means. Yeah, we was sixty-nine-ing. Well, it was almost a sixty-eight; I was goin' down on her and she was lovin' it but she said she'd owe me one."

"Why was that? I thought they were pretty uninhibited and smoked dope an' stuff."

"Well, they were, but she complained about my bush gettin' in her teeth. She did it, but it got me thinkin'. Colt said you would trim it for me."

"What about shavin' it all off, dude?" suggested Colton. "You'd look hot with no hair at all. Make y'piece look halfway decent too."

"But you have pubes."

"I'll shave if you do."

"Deal"

"Get your clippers, Tris."

They were soon bouncing back on the couch with a towel on the floor. Brady's zebra patterned boxers had been cast aside. Tristan was giving his curriculum vitae, describing how he performed the same service for Hollis and Parker. "Don't move, Brady or I might nip you," said Tristan trying to concentrate on Brady's groin as the heavy-duty electric clippers hummed away.

"Dude," said Colton, motioning. Brady settled on Colton's lap and they both slumped low on the couch. Colton had his big arms around Brady in an affectionate bear hug that also prevented him from squirming under the vicious clippers and he used his own legs to spread Brady's akimbo.

The acreage of curly black hair was shorn and it fell in fluffy tufts to the floor. Tristan had Brady hold his scrotum tight and did the delicate work there. Brady was sweating but also getting hard. "Don't worry about it, Brade," said Tristan. "It's the vibrations." To make his point he put the clippers on Brady's cock and it rapidly went to full mast. "Actually makes it easier," observed Tristan.

Brady squirmed a bit more on Colton's lap and then said "I can feel you getting' hard, Stone, y'sick fuck. You're piece is right along m'butt crack."

"Feel good, Brade?" breathed Colton, sexily.

"Makes the bottom of m'spine tingle."

"Pressure on y'prostate. Go with it," whispered Colton close to his left ear. Brady squirmed a bit more.

"Treasure trail and chest hair?" asked Tristan at last.

"No," said Brady.

"Yes," said Colton firmly.

"Go ahead," said Brady, giving in to defeat.

There wasn't much to buzz off. Then Colton lifted Brady's arms aloft.

"No, Colt, not m'pits"

Brady was overruled and his pits quickly came to resemble a preteen's. "Turn over and Tristan will do y'crack." Brady protested again. "Look Brade I've had m'tongue up there and I say it's too hairy," said Colton with surprising candour. "Did Jasmijn eat you out?"

"No she didn't."

"Well, she told Fenna, in confidence of course, that it was too greasy and hairy back there for her sophisticated and refined European tastes. Roll over."

Brady got up and Tristan could see Colton's erection in his shorts. There was a big wet spot where Brady had been sitting. Brady was now on his knees with his nose in that wet spot while Colton spread Brady's cheeks for Tristan's clippers. Eventually Brady spread his own cheeks and Colton gently stroked his head, but held it firmly, perhaps to forestall Brady's flight.

"Enjoyin' it Brade?" asked Tristan at length.

Brady's response was just a groan. Tristan could see a pool of Brady's precum stretching down to the towel on the floor and he concluded that he was.

There was a pause while Tristan went to get a disposable razor and a can of foam. Colton continued to hold Bady in a death grip but leaned right over so he could point out where Tristan had `missed a bit'. Finally Brady was cleaned up.

"Fuck you look hot, dude!" said Colton when the red-faced, sweating Brady was allowed to stand. It was true and Tristan complimented him on his transformation.

Brady stayed naked even though it was now Colton's turn. Colton stood, with his big legs planted wide as jocks tend to stand. His muscles were slightly tensed and his groin was thrust forward. It was unconscious, but Tristan wondered, as he cleaned the clippers, whether this display was biological--use to attract a mate or assert dominance over rival males. He would ask Colton about it afterwards.

"I just want m'bush n'balls shaved, Tris."

"Hey!" objected Brady, but was silenced by Colton who argued that, as a blonde, his situation was different for artistic, if not androgenic, reasons.

"Hold his cock, Brady," said Tristan as he concentrated on his task and was being annoyed by the big, swinging member obstructing it. "Oop, sorry!" the electric trimmer had nipped Colton's wrinkled sac. He winced and a tiny point of blood could be seen. "You okay?" Colton replied that it was nothing and Tristan said that he had a styptic pencil if it kept bleeding.

"Pull m'balls tight, Brade," said Colton.

Brady's helpful pair of hands and the action of Tristan's clippers was clearly exiting the twenty year-old.

"Y'drippin' on m'hand, Colt,' said Brady.

"That an observation or a complaint?" demanded Colton.

"Runnin' commentary, I suppose."

Colton tapped his index finger on his piss slit and the sticky honey formed a trapeze. He then reached down and wiped it on Tristan's lips.

"Hey!" cried Tristan, looking up from his task. Then they both noticed the hungry look in Brady's eyes.

"Here y'go, bro," said Colton and did the same to him.

"Fuck off, Stone, y'pervert!" said Brady quite without conviction.

"Right, now for the razor," said Tristan as he wound up the flex.

"Let me shave the big jock," volunteered Brady.

Tristan shrugged and Brady took the can of foam and was soon massaging in to the areas that Tristan had trimmed, although this wasn't strictly necessary. Tristan handed over a disposable razor and sat back on his heels to watch. Colton looked down and watched in alarm.

"Y'hand's shakin' Brade. Let Tristan do it."

"It's not. I've got this."

Brady was actually very careful and concentrated hard. "He's got great balls," observed Tristan unnecessarily.

"Fenna couldn't get both of them in her mouth," said Colton above Brady's head. Tristan looked at him and Colton's mouth silently formed the words: "But Jasmijn could."

Tristan rolled his eyes, realizing that Colton had slept with both of them and poor Brady was oblivious.

"There! That's done, Colt. Real smooth." He gave the area above Colt's cock a quick peck.

"Yeah! Feels great. M'balls is tinglin'. Come on, Brade, into the guys' shower."

They picked up their discarded underwear and headed off. Tristan felt that he would have liked to have joined them, but he thought it might be nice for Brady to just be with Colton, whom he obviously hero-worshipped. Besides, he would have to explain the six-inch black butt plug lodged up his arse. The thought of it gave him another twinge.

Tristan was grilling the duck breasts when Brady and Colton wandered out into the backyard just wearing their underwear. "There's cum on your chin, Brade," Tristan called. Brady's hand shot up and then froze. It was an old trick, but clearly still an effective one.

"Get us some beers, Colt," Brady said. "I put those Saint Arnold's in the kitchen fridge." Colton sauntered back to the house, adjusting himself in his Marine silkies. "You got me there, Tris. Yeah, I sucked a load out of our boy an' I fuckin' enjoyed it. I got off, in fact. But I'm not gay--not that there's anything wrong with bein' gay, I mean, it's just that...I don't fuckin' know what I mean. Colt has..."

"A sexual way about him that transcends orientation?"

"That's a fancy way of wordin' it, but yeah. I guess so. You `service' him--that the right word? Don't you?"

"Maybe you should ask Colt that question."

"Come on man..."

"Yeah, I do and I fuckin' love it too."

"You love him, dude?" said Brady looking around first. Tristan didn't reply, but turned his attention back to the duck on the grill. "Yeah, I know you do. I think he might love you too." Tristan looked up in surprise. "You didn't realise that? He talks 'bout you all the time. Sometimes he even calls me by your name. I don't put him right. And at night..."

"At night, what?"

"I think I've heard him say your name in his sleep."

"Probably just cheese for supper..." Tristan was saved from replying further by the return of the man himself carrying three craft beers.

They ate their meal in the air-conditioned coolness of the dining room. Tristan had managed a salad but there was only more beer for pudding. Colton washed up while Brady and Tristan sat in front of the television with their feet on Johnny Unitas' door, but their earlier conversation was not resumed. They were soon joined by Colton with still more beer and they watched shit and shot the breeze until it was quite dark outside.

Brady caught Tristan's eye. He was sitting next to Colton on the green couch. He stealthily dropped his fingers to the hem of the silkies. They were distended by Colton's member, which was perhaps never quite flaccid and hung down toward his knee. Brady lifted the opening to reveal the uncut head and then gave it three cheeky taps on the blunt end with his finger. Colton looked down but said nothing, but brushed Brady's hand away and folded the hem back so that his penis was almost fully exposed. He then opened his other leg and his balls dropped free. "Is that what you two wanted to look at?"

"Just muckin' around, Colt."

Brady looked at Tristan. "Well, I suppose I better head off t'bed. Gotta long drive back."

"Loose the shorts, dude."

"Nah, I'll just..."

"Drop 'em, Brade. I wanna see how barred-up I've made you."

"No, Colt."

"Brade!"

Brady was red in the face, but shed the zebra-patterned shorts. He was hard and his cock, now without its bosky surround, looked somewhat bigger.

"Yeah, way to go, dude!" hissed Colton. The he looked down at his own member. "Do you want to kiss it goodnight?"

"Fuck off!"

"We've been through all this before. If you want to kiss it, Brade, don't be afraid. You're among friends here. M'piece wants to be y'friend too." Brady looked in alarm to Tristan. "Dude, Tris won't mind...sharin' it some."

Tristan didn't speak. He was holding his breath.

"Come on dude, before I put it away."

Brady looked at Tristan again and then up to Colton with pleading eyes. Then he bent low and placed a gentle kiss on Colton's cock. Colton responded by wiping the head over Brady's lips. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it? And it was very nice, dude. Come up here, dude, on my lap for a minute"

"Isn't that a bit gay?"

"Yeah, but you've just kissed another dude's piece. I want to talk to y'all--in front of Tris, if y'don't mind none."

Brady shrugged, but he acquiesced. He was a runt compared to Colton, but was still slightly absurd in the quarterback's lap. Colton talked and Brady gradually rested his head on Colton's pecs. Sometimes Colton stroked his hair.

"Dude, I owe you a lot." Brady made a demurring noise. "No, I mean it. When I was fourteen you taught me stuff. I already knew about sex, but you taught me a heap more 'bout it, but even more than that, you taught me about girls--an' that's a diff'rent thang altogether."

"Might could have," said Brady, giving a grin for the first time.

"No, I mean it. One of your strengths--apart from bein' able to turn your hand to just about any damn thang--is that you know 'bout women; what they want, how to pick 'em up, how to make 'em laugh--just like you said."

"Yeah, the chick I knocked up I picked up by just doin' that trick where you lift a match box with y'index finger an' y'pinky while keepin' y'other fingers flat on the table. Kept her interest for fifteen minutes and the rest was easy." He was quiet for a minute. "Guess that was a pretty costly trick."

"You like girls and girls like you," asserted Colton emphatically.

"Yeah, but I can't help fuckin' up. I feel trapped and then have to look for a way out, look for another chick to like me."

"You want out before they hurt you."

"Yeah, that's pretty obvious. Miss Daly says it's because I've lost Mom."

"You even let that girl from Magnolia Market get away--pushed her away before you realised that you loved her."

"Yeah, I know that now. Wish y'hadn't brung her up."

"Well, why do you think, despite your liking girls--even understanding 'em better than most dudes--and them likin' you-- that you fuck up?"

Brady was thoughtful. "Because I'm a fuck up? A useless cunt?"

"Because you don't love yourself, Brady. Everyone likes you--except you!"

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm rotten inside. I don't deserve to me happy."

"Yes you do, but you'll have to convince y'self of that truth. In the meantime, Mom and Dad love you and I love you. We're not going to run out on you." Colton gave him a squeeze then picked up Brady's wrists, which still bore the dreadful scars, and kissed them turn about. Brady was crying.

After a minute or two, Colton announced: "Now Tristan is going to share something with you. Tris, why don't you drop your shorts?"

Tristan looked alarmed. He was wearing a tee-shirt and cargo shorts--quite over dressed by comparison.

"Colt, I don't want to. You know why."

"Tris, you owe it to Brady. Look at all the feelin's he's shared and he's a straight dude, aren't you Brade?"

"I used to think so."

"You are, Brady. Colton's just messing with your head."

Tristan stood and dropped his shorts. He stepped out of them. Then be lowered his black trunks.

"What...?" began Brady. Then Tristan turned around and touched his toes. "Fuck! What's that?"

"It's the new six-and-a-half inch `Enola Gay' silicon but plug," explained Tristan from upside down.

"Does it vibrate?"

"What the fuck, dude?" exclaimed Colton.

"You can get them in vibrating. I've used one--but not that big."

"You have? Well dang me!"

"Well, I like a bit of ass play--with a chick or solo."

"Tris has been stretching himself and keeping himself horny because he knows I like it. He's lookin' forward to a bit of Colty luvvin' an' want's m'piece in real deep tonight, don't you, bro?"

"No use denying it."

"He gets off just knowin' he's givin' me pleasure and I get off on that."

"It's pleasure for me too," added Tristan, feeling like he must not appear to be a complete slave.

"Doesn't it kill you--I mean to take his big schlong?" asked Brady.

Colton answered for him. "Damn near kills him, but he loves it, don't you?"

"No use denying that either. You're not a bad fuck, Colt."

"Hear that, Brade? `Not bad'! He's just rilin' me so I'll ride him extra hard."

"So," said Brady who was now sitting on the floor. "You fuck dudes, Colt."

"No, I fuck chicks. Tris is the only dude I fuck. And he's the only one I do bare."

"So--sorry 'bout this, Tris--so, you'd rather fuck girls than Tris?"

It was a good question Tristan thought and he risked humiliation as he waited for an answer.

"I like chasing chicks, getting on to them and doin' the dirty with 'em. Can't help that. Feel I've got to conquer them, make them fall for me. Make 'em moan an' beg for it. Love givin' them pleasure, if I do it right. That will always be part of who I am. But..."

Tristan wondered when he had last drawn a breath.

"But I'd rather fuck Tris, because he's m'best friend. I've been with Tristan twice as long as I have with Mia. Course he's not hot lookin' like Mia--no offence Tris, but y'have that goatee thang and hairy legs n'Mia has awesome boobs. But I love him more than any hot chick, Brade. Wouldn't swap him for Mia or Océane or anyone."

"Knock on wood," said Tristan breathing again. He hoped that Colton hadn't observed his distress.

"And you, Tris? Do you sleep with other guys?"

It was a personal question, but Brady had just seen his plugged arse. "I have, but I don't...you know...go all the way with other guys. I mean, Colt's always telling me to put myself out there, but...well..."

"Well what, Tris?" demanded Colton.

"Ihaven'tmetanyoneashot."

Colton lay back a roared. "See Brady? Boy thinks I'm hot!" He flexed his muscles and generally showed off.

"But I'm starting to look harder tomorrow!" shouted Tristan.

Colton got up from he couch and walked across to Tristan who was still naked. He pulled him up and planted a kiss on his lips. "He's a better kisser than Mia, Brade. Course, I taught him."

"Well, I taught you how to French when you were fourteen."

"Yeah, and I hope you've improved since then."

"So what has me exposing myself just now got to do with helping Brady, Colt?"

"Not a dang thang! Just seenin' if you'd do it for me--for us." Tristan snorted. He'd been used and embarrassed but, at the same time, it felt rather liberating having someone else to share his secret--to know the depth of his feelings or at least the lengths he'd go to--or, more properly, the length that he would take up his arse. Colton must have sensed this, even at an unconscious level. Part of the pleasure being in love was telling others that you are.

"Off to your room, Brade, and have a wank. Come on, Tris. We'll get a room--oh, we already have one. Leave your clothes here, you won't be needin' them."

"I wouldn't mind watchin'," called Brady after them. "For m'education, I mean."

"Maybe when we're back at the farm. Tonight is just for Tris."

With that he picked up Tristan and managed to throw his ungainly figure over his shoulder and headed out towards the narrow stairs to the loft. Tristan was laughing at the cliché and Colton beat his breast and gave Tarzan's jungle cry.

Upstairs, Colton dumped Tristan on the mattress they shared. The plug was driven in deeper, causing Tristan to wince. Then Colton disappeared into his closet. Tristan wondered what he was doing. When at last he strutted out fully erect, Tristan gasped. Colton had his testicles and penis bound with one of the long shoelaces from his Vans. "Feels fuckin' fantastic. I'm so hard, Tris, and it should delay my orgasm for ages." He thrust his groin in Tristan's direction and winced. The cause was obvious: he had inserted the anal hook in his rectum and the thick red rope was taught between his neck and the stainless steel instrument--any movement pulled the bulbous end in deeper, pressing on the footballer's prostate.

"Looks hot!" said Tristan simply. "Do a little dance."

Colton grinned, then grimaced and then grinned again. He held his arms above his head and gyrated his hips, although there was no music. The precum was running freely from his straining member as the fiendish device stimulated his rear.

"Come here, Salome," said Tristan at last.

"I thought I was more Chippendale than Salome."

"My fantasy is to give you a tongue bath."

"Oh fuck! I want to cum so bad."

Tristan tormented Colton, sucking every toe and licking his soles. He worked up his legs, by-passing his trussed up genitals, to reach his gym-toned abdominals and pecs. Colton pulled him in for a kiss, which Tristan thought was the most sensual of all. "Fuck! If Brady could just see you kiss now, Colt."

"Go and get him?"

"No, I don't think you should tackle those stairs with that hook in."

Tristan worked his way down Colton's strong back. Then: "Now I'm going to let you cum and I want it straight in my face, just like I said on FaceTime." He licked Colton's cock and presently Colton announced it was time. It was a bull's eye.

"Fuck that was good," said Tristan. He came himself.

The cords were untied and the hook eased out. "I need to piss now. You know what you must do," announced Colton as he massaged his liberated genitals. In the bathroom, Tristan did his duty. "Lot of beer," said Colton by way of explanation for the foaming torrent in the toilet.

"Colt," said Tristan releasing the horse cock.

He need say no more, for Colton turned and hosed him down with his beery piss and Tristan was instantly reminded of Water Sports at Cyprus Gardens Academy--an improbable college story set in Florida in the 'fifties.

"That's kinky enough," said Colton with shake of his cock. He then rinsed Tristan with the shower hose. "I'm ready for the main event."

They repaired to the exercise bench. Tristan lay on his back while Colton, now fully erect again, eased the plug from Tristan's butt. Tristan yelped in pain.

"Jesus! You're gaping so wide I can see right inside. That's fuckin' hot. How long have you been plugged?"

"I put it in just before you arrived, so that's more than eight hours."

"Maybe that's too long, Tris," said Colton with a modicum of concern as he roughly felt inside with a lubed finger.

"You get used to it and you feel so nice and full."

"And sexed up?"

"Yeah, I guess so. It presses on all these nerves and my prostate I suppose."

"We'll get you a bigger one in London."

"I don't know if I want a bigger one or even if I can take it."

"I think you do and I'm sure you will. We'll get a vibrator too--a heavy duty one and we can use it on each other."

"Just make sure it's American voltage, 'cause we won't be able to take it back. And I want to buy you some sexy underwear."

"Yeah? Not a thong?"

"No, they're too girly for a stud like you. I've been looking at some with the arse cut out and a big pouch up front." Tristan gasped because Colton now had a couple of thick fingers up his `cunt'.

"We'll both get some." That was the last Colton spoke for some time, because he was now `eating out' his roommate's arse and was actually able to get, what seemed to Tristan who couldn't see, the whole of his strong tongue up into his rectum.

"Fuck me, Colty! I can't stand it!"

Colton did and really hammered Tristan. Then, fulfilling Tristan's recently articulated fantasy, lifted him bodily on his cock and, with Tristan's arms about his neck and his legs about Colton's waist, and with the aide of the faux Japanese wall to the bathroom space to lean on, made brutal love to him standing up.

Tristan felt the dull pain when Colton's cock hit the rear wall of his rectum. Colton then angled himself and Tristan wriggled and there was a slight `give'; the tip of Colton's rampant erection penetrated that area beyond--a place that Colton could describe in clinical detail if asked. Tristan fairly screamed, but his cries were quickly and untidily smothered by Colton's lips.

Colton was undoubtedly correct about the close connection of those two seeming opposites, pleasure and pain, for it seemed Tristan's pain had caused them both to cum.

"Fuck that was intense!" panted Colton at some length. "Was that what you wanted?"

"In spades, Colt. Now I want to clean up your cock." Tristan dropped to his knees.

"Nasty, but hot!" was Colton's assessment. "I'll have to give you our pamphlet on shigellosis."

"Don't spoil it."

Soon they were in Colton's bed. Colton had his left arm about Tristan's shoulder and Tristan's head was cradled between his bicep and chest. "I meant what I said about lovin' havin' sex with my best friend."

"I'm just sorry I that don't have big tits."

"Well, nothin's perfect."

"What gay guy has a college quarterback to fuck the shit out of him and with a dick that can reach his lungs?"

"Well, puttin' it that way, some things are perfect."

They were quiet for a minute.

"Will Brady be okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. I was right about him not lovin' himself, wasn't I?"

"You were. You're lucky you're not troubled that way yourself....Ow!" Colton had flexed his bicep and pincered Tristan's head.

"When we come back home--you will come to the farm after we're back?--do you want to let Brady watch me fuck you?"

"Is that a fantasy, Colt? Do you want to fuck Brady?"

"Of course not. I'm not attracted to Brady. He's a guy--a buddy."

"But what about me?"

"You're different. You sort of understand me."

"I'll do whatever you want. You understand me--what's good for me. You picked me up when I was a mess a year ago. I don't know how you knew what to do, but you did."

"Well, I knew you were a cocksucker even before I met you."

"You might have read that I was gay on the dorm bio that Dad wrote, but you couldn't have known that I'd suck you." Colton just looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, all right! I suppose you knew I would--if I wasn't too terrified by rooming with a jock who might just beat me to a pulp."

"I knew what you needed. You, Holly and Brady."

"We all had problems with our parents?"

"You were all in need of love, Tris. You with your mom and dad--no offence, but they're pretty cold; Holly and Brady have lost their moms altogether. A boy's best friend is his mom."

"I'd rather have a quarterback."

"Thanks."

"You're lucky. Your mum and dad are so nice they have left over love for even strays like me and Brady. You know," said Tristan licking Colton's nipple--the one without the ring, "I think that a lot of your confidence comes from having heaps of love and security behind you. The muscles and the big cock are just a bonus."

Colon chuckled again. "You've been good for me, Tris. I needed a friend. I mean, Beau's a bit too young and Brady had gone away. I had the Coyotes, but they all belong to the old part of my life--back home."

"And girls?"

"Yeah, plen'y o'girls and sex, but Mia was the only long term one an' she was married to a felon and lived in a trailer park. I didn't love her--hell, I was only a high school kid. Was she even a friend? Don't even know now."

"I see," said Tristan, thinking he should say something.

"You, on t'other hand, have opened me up to new things."

"Why, you been borrowing The Hindenburg?"

"You know what I mean. If it was Mia here instead of you we'd be going off to Gatlinburg for the tractor pull 'stead of London, England."

"It's just `London', the England is a given."

"See? Who else could wise-up a hick like me to that?"

"Where else could a fucked up Nancy like me be skin-to-muscle with a college quarterback who took me to Big Bend?"

"I fuckin' took you to paradise."

"Yeah. That to. I'm so lucky I roomed with you."

"Is that boy annoying you, honey?" said a snarky voice.

It was the gay steward with the aluminium pitcher of dreadful coffee. Colton looked to his left. Tristan had fallen asleep slumped on his shoulder.

"No, Eric, he's my roommate and he's just tired because I fucked the shit out of him last night and again this morning and then again this afternoon before we left."

There was a noise followed by general confusion. Eric had dropped the coffee in the aisle and his uniform was probably ruined.

Please look for the next chapter. Henry would love to receive feedback and will endeavour to reply. Please email h.h.hilliard@hotmail.com and put Tristan in the subject line.