Tristan

Tristan by Henry H. Hilliard

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Chapter 6

It was late afternoon when the Greyhound bus pulled into the depot. There was the tooting of a horn and Tristan saw his truck with the welcome figure of Colton behind the wheel. He waved a salute and walked wearily over carrying his backpack, the long shadows slashing a pattern of gold and black on walls and asphalt.

Colton gave him a `brohug' with one arm and welcomed him back. "How'd it go, Tris?"

"Okay, I suppose, except I left earlier than I had planned, so maybe not so well. I'll tell you all about it tonight when you get back from Nonno's. There a good deal to tell."

"Well, I've got stuff to tell ya too, Roomy," said Colt, grinning. He passed across his phone as he swung the wheel. There was a picture if a pretty girl--probably Korean. "Met her sweet ass in the Library and we've been on two dates already"

"She's lovely," said Tristan with effort, although it was true.

"I'm sure smitten with her, but sad fact is that she's goin' home next week. Seems she was just here on a Rotary Exchange or somethin' and didn't speak a whole heap o'Ainglaish. Wouldn't that rot y'socks?"

"Yes," lied Tristan and hiding his relief. "Sure would."

"She's real fine and wouldn't do nothin' on the first date, 'cept feel my muscles."

Tristan didn't have to ask about the second.

"Som'in else I wants to show y'all--an improvement in our livin' 'rangements."

When Tristan opened the door he half expected the Korean Rotarian to have been installed, but instead he first noticed that Colton's exercise bench had been set up. The adjustable padded seat sprouted a chromed steel vertical post from which pulleys, wires and weights could be engaged and reconfigured for he exercise of the various muscle groups.

Then he noticed that this had only been possible by moving his bed. The gap and the bedside table had vanished and now the two beds were pushed together, the rumpled sheets and disarranged pillows disguising where one finished and the other began.

"This won't work!" cried Tristan in alarm.

"Sure it will. Hollis was using the lat pull down 'safternoon and hardly scraped the wall none. Hope you don't mind the guys usin' it. If'in it clanks too loud for when y'all studyin', they'll have to stop."

"Not the bench, the beds! Where will I sleep?"

"Why on your side of this here `California King', o'course," he said giving it an approving slap. "Parker reckons it'll be great for us all awatchin' movies if we hang a TV on the wall 'bove our desks.

"And they didn't think it odd that we'd be practically sharing a bed, me a gay boy?"

"Course not, I'm the quarterback and they respects my ass. They know what rule number one is in this room, right?"

"Right," sighed Tristan and flopped down exhausted while Colton put on his Nonno's uniform, all the while giving telling examples of how he and his brothers and high school buddies used to share beds with no apparent loss of social prestige.

"Do I look hot in your black briefs?" said Colton, completely oblivious to the foregoing conversation.

He did look hot, of course, and they were an expensive brand that were cut high and low in all the right places. His bulge was massive. "Yeah," sighed Tristan weakly, "Purty as a pie supper."

"Hey! That's my rodeo," laughed Colton. "I've bin leaking bad in'em too, thank'n about Yumi."

"I'll wash them--after I wear 'em tomorrow of course. See you when you get home."

Tristan knocked on Parker's door and he was welcomed with another bro hug. They exchanged a few words and Parker could see that Tristan was `plum tuckered' and let him go. He went on to the Common Room and chatted to Hollis, Jimmy and some of the others before taking himself off to the shower. As he was soaping himself he realized that no one had mentioned Colton's very gay bed configuration. Indeed Jimmy only remarking on the convenience of the weights. He returned to the room and became quite active on his phone, sent an email to his father and then settled down to homework, getting most of a passage from The Iliad translated and to which he had, he thought rather conceitedly, brought out some aspects that had hitherto been overlooked.

Colton was eventually home and was straight down to his Chemistry revision. Tristan let him work until 11:00 when he announced that he was going to sleep. Colton threw his pen down and stripped off his boxers and jumped on the bed, almost spilling Tristan to the floor. Tristan more gingerly took off his clothes and crawled into the cool sheets.

"Ain't this nice, Roomy?" said Colton as he lay on his back with his hands clasped behind his head. Tristan could smell his pits and became hard. "Tell me about y'trip."

Tristan gave still another sigh and launched into the narrative, at one point asking Colton if he'd read The Forsyte Saga.

"Can't say I have, 'cause I ain't."

"Well, my family is worse than them," he said and picked up his thread again. At the recitation of his mother's cruel remark he surprised himself by choking with tears and to his further surprise Colton said, "Come 'ere," and wrapped his naked arm around him and soon found he was continuing his tale with his head on Colton's chest and was able to detect the slow beat of the quarterback's heart and he felt himself becoming less excited in-- one respect.

"I thought rule number one said, "No touching"?"

"That it does, that's rule number one, surenuf."

Tristan said nothing and simply enjoyed the closeness. Then he said, Colt, "I've got something to tell you--well, two things, actually, but they're related."

"Yup?" growled the quarterback.

"Well, Gran left the house to my cousin and me. We're selling it."

"That's great, Tris, pleased for ya."

"Well you don't... Well, it's kind of a big house--Grandpa was a judge--and, well--and well, it could be worth a lot more than houses around here, for example. It's old and close to London. Here..." he reached for his phone and showed Colton a picture.

"Well, them bricks is a bit crooked and it looks like it needs afixin' up an maybe 'luminum winders."

"No, Colt," Tristan laughed. That's how British people like their old houses, you know, `quaint'. It's very comfortable on the inside."

"What ja reckon it'll fetch?"

"Nine hundred or maybe more."

"That's nice Tris..."

"No, Colt, I mean nine hundred thousand pounds, maybe a million...that's about one- and-a-quarter million dollars, plus some more, and half will be mine."

Colton sat up suddenly and Tristan was sorry to fall off his chest. "Y'all shittin' in high cotton, dude! I never know'd a guy with more'n two bits to run together. You gotta buy y'self a more high class roomy."

"Don't want one--I mean you are high class."

"High class Texas beef 'sbout all. What, are you fixin' to do, Tris?"

"Well, I've done the first thing already. Now don't get mad..."

Colton's jaw tightened, but there was no going back. "What?"

"Well, you can give up Nonno's; I've paid your next semester's tuition."

"Tristan, you had no right!"

"I know."

"What'll my folks thank? They'll be humiliated. What 'bout me?"

"Do they have to know? And I though we were buddies. I'd never humiliate you, but I can't stand to see you run ragged what with football and study. You need all your time for both if you want to do a good job, plus we've got to enjoy ourselves while we're young. Besides, Nonno paid shit and the tips were shit too because you were always kept out back. I felt that was humiliating for someone like you."

"Someone like me?" replied Colt infuriated, "I'm no more special than Luis or Jackson or Candy who all worked there too and were humiliated."

"I'm sorry, you're right of course. I never meant to offend you, although I knew I was taking a chance."

"No, sorry for shootin' ma mouth off, Roomy," he said in a calmer voice. "You did a fine thang and I'm powerful grateful, but I'll pay y'all back."

"Of course, when you're working. You can pay me back now by giving the time to your football and the books and doing well. I know it must be tough on just a part-ride and if you were to be kicked off the team by Gleeson because you're worn out from working, why you'd lose your scholarship altogether."

"No I wouldn't."

"Yes you would."

"No I wouldn't, because I ain't on a football scholarship."

"But you said..."

"I said I was on a half ride. You just assumed I was a dumb jock, but I'm on a half-ride academic scholarship. I rejected the football one when it was offered. Khalid got mine, I think."

"Shit. No shit? Jesus, you're full of surprises. I'm so sorry."

"That's all right, bro. Y'all full o'surprises too."

"We good?"

"You betcha. J.O. time!"

This session was a whole new ball game. They were now side-by-side, thighs touching, and Tristan had what could only be described as an intimate view of proceedings. "Isn't this just slightly gay?" ventured Tristan.

"Nah, just two buddies getting their rocks off."

"Good buddies,' said Tristan with sarcasm.

"The best. It ain't o-fficially gay 'less I touch you, everybod' knows that. Ask Parker."

There was a dawning in Tristan's brain worthy of Maxfield Parrish's brush. "You mean, if you touch me it's gay, but if I touch you...?"

"Of course, dumass, you is already gay." With that he passed control of his enormous penis over to Tristan who seized it faster than a sneeze through a screen door. He spent some time squeezing and kneading it and generally appreciating the heft and weight of it, its texture and the combination of velvet and steel and the masculine smell. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that, forgot to warsh."

"Are you sure this isn't gay?"

"Sure as Pres'dent Clinton I'm sure. It ain't sex, ju's helping out a bro in need. Bein' neighbourly. Me and my buds did this all the time."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You know what I likes. Make it inventive. Git r done."

Tristan wondered what the limits were. For the moment he just stroked with his hand, enjoying the sight of the head appearing and disappearing. "I can't get my hand around it."

"Yeah," came a chuckle, "Ya hands is kinda small. Best use two."

Tristan found that he had to kneel between Colt's meaty thighs and to use both hands as if he were churning butter--which in a sense he was. Colt was leaking like a sieve and Tristan's knuckles were wet. He looked up and saw that Colt was grinning at him. He then closed his eyes in pleasure.

"I'm getting close. Pull on m'balls some." Tristan choked the sack with one hand and stretched it. "Bit harder, I can take it."

Presently Colt was arching his back and Tristan was back to two hands.

"Yours, Roomy, open y'pearlies."

Tristan opened wide and intercepted two shots, but the rest went everywhere else.

"Swaller, honey, jus' like y'all told Doc Baddeley. Now afinish yerself, but I'd 'preciate if y'all don't get none..."

"Yeah, that'd been too gay," said Tristan sarcastically as he ran his tongue around his gums.

"Did ya like that, Tris? Get ya hot?"

"Did you like it?"

"Sure. Next time we'll have to exercise that talented mouth."

"I'm confused," said Tristan as he scrabbled for the cum towel under the bed. "What am I allowed to do and what is off limits because it's gay?" They settled down under the sheet. "I mean can we sleep like this or do I have to move to the far side?

"Course you can, this is comfortin'."

"Can I ..."

"Say it."

"Can I kiss your cock? Can I use my tongue on your balls? Can I lick your pits and bite your muscles? All that stuff."

"You wanna do that? It's not too gay for your ass?"

"I am gay, remember."

Y'are too, so I'm guessin' that's a fair thang."

"I really have an urge to tongue your arse."

"Perfecty understandable and, as you know, I likes a chick with an active tongue. But nothing else goes up there, 'cept maybe a pinkie, as I have my reputation to consider and the team might not respect a quarterback what takes it up the chute--'specially from someone not on the team."

"On the lips?"

No, Tris. That's a might gay and Parker and Hollis and might misunderstand your natural gratitude for Colt luvvin'."

"You conceited swine."

"No ass lickin' for you then."

"I take it back. I've never been fucked, Colt. Would you ever do that?"

"S'much as I'd like to please y'all, that would be gay sex in my book. Mind, I'd probably rip y'innards some and y'd end up eating your Thanksgivin' dinner standing up in hospital."

They were silent for quite awhile. Colton said: "Did ya hear from y'dad?

"Not yet."

"Y'all might be able to take the next step to mendin' matters at Thanksgivin'. Just four weeks away."

"I'm not seeing him for Thanksgiving. He will be in Costa Rica. I'm staying here."

"You can't do that, it's Thanksgivin'."

"Well, we don't celebrate it in England."

"But y'all in the US of A now. Y'all coming home with me. 'sides, we can go in your truck."

"Your family wouldn't want me, a stranger, on your doorstep."

Hey, don't go dissin' my folks. They's as hospitable as whores on pay night. Strangers is just the whole point of Thanksgivin' and y'all ain't zactly a stranger.

`No, I service your son,' thought Tristan silently, then, remembering his manners said, "That would be very nice, Colt. I'd love to see your home and meet your family properly."

"Now, git some shut eye," he said sleepily and punctuated it by a fart. "We gotta run in the morning. Yeah, you can put y'arm round me like that but that bitty thing o'yours better not be acornholin' me during the night. Course if you wants to leave in jus there," he flexed his arse cheeks, squeezing Tristan's hardon. "I couldn't say that it didn't feel nice, cause it does...surely."

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.