Chapter 44: Damon Reid vs. Tristan Thomas: An explosive encounter…Green-eyed monster!

***

“Tristan Thomas,” Damon whispered. “What are you trying to do to me?” He brushed Tristan’s sweat-damp hair from his face and waited for him to open his eyes.

“I could ask you the same,” Tristan murmured. “Are you okay, love?” he asked with concern, rolling off Damon to curl against his side. “It wasn’t too much for you?”

“I’m okay.” Damon flashed that sexy grin that always made Tristan’s heart soar. “That was fucking fantastic, Tris. No wonder you like this.”

Tristan propped his head on his hand and looked down at Damon, a very satisfied smile hovering over his lips. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of triumph on how he’d been able to reduce Damon to a quivering mass.

“Don’t look so smug, you fucker,” Damon laughed and snuggled into Tristan’s warmth.

“You’re so fucking sexy like this,” Tristan said huskily and leaned down to kiss Damon tenderly. Then he rolled over onto his back beside Damon with a smile, feeling utterly boneless. “Gonna fucking kill me, Damon." Tristan's voice was lazy and satiated.”

Damon chuckled. “Oh, stop your whining. You weren’t the one who was just folded damn-near in half and drilled into the boardroom table…and in the sky of all places too.” He tossed back.

A dark eyebrow arched. “Are you complaining?” Tristan asked with laughter.

“Hell no.” Damon’s blue eyes stared at Tristan from behind heavy lids. “That was simply awesome, baby.” His full lips parted in a sensual smile. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sit down for a week though.”

“You’ll be fine. I don’t want you scaring the French with any funny walk so I didn’t stay inside you for long like I really wanted to.” Tristan chuckled.

“Aw, how sweet.” Damon drawled.

“Fuck you.” Tristan laughed.

“You just did.” Damon joined in the laugher.

“Okay, I need to celebrate. I just got inducted into the Mile-High Club.”

“Yep. Welcome to the club.” Damon drawled.

Tristan knew this wasn’t the first time Damon had had sex on a plane but that didn’t stop the obvious from hurting. Maybe it was the way Damon had casually admitted to it with his last statement. It made their encounter come off as one of the others and part of him was suddenly insanely jealous. Tristan sat up, got off the table, and started dressing up. He knew he was being silly but couldn’t help it.

Damon sensed the change in Tristan but couldn’t tell what had brought it on. He thought Tristan would give him something to clean himself with at least but it looked like he was rather getting ready to leave the boardroom.

Deep blue eyes flickered as Damon’s gaze raked over Tristan, giving away nothing of what he thought about what was going on. He got off the table, wincing at the slight discomfort. To think there was no tub on the plane to soak in. Shit! Great time to be adventurous.

“So is there anything I’m supposed to do?” Tristan asked in a tense voice. “What do your partners usually do after a mile-high dose?” Tristan couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.

Damon wasn’t going to dignify that question with an answer so he rather ensured there was no mess on the table, and then concentrated on dressing up. His heart sunk when he heard Tristan open the door and leave. What the fuck just happened? He never said he was a saint. Was he going to be punished for his past? How about him? Was he supposed to get pissed off at Tristan’s past too? Tristan was being childish. Damon thought it was about time he grew up. And if it was the last thing he did, he was going to see to that.

He totally ignored Tristan.

***

When Damon entered the executive suite, Tristan was lying on the queen size bed reading a magazine. Damon stripped quietly and went to the bathroom to take a shower. When he came back in, he dressed in grey cargo pants, a black polo shirt, and sneakers. Then without a word to Tristan, he went out of the room. He was hungry so he headed straight for the dining room. Alma served him delicious mustard-stuffed chicken with parmesan-roasted potatoes and a bottle of red wine. Though Damon enjoyed his meal, he knew he would have enjoyed it more if he had eaten with Tristan.

“Mr. Reid, will Mr. Thomas be coming to eat soon?” Alma asked Damon. “Should I start preparing something for him?”

“Tell you what Alma, why don’t you go ask Mr. Thomas? Maybe he’s ready to eat.” Damon replied with a smile.

“I’ll do that Mr. Reid.” And with that, Alma left for the suite.

At the door of the suite, she knocked, and not hearing any answer, entered. Tristan was not in the room but Alma could hear the sound of the shower.

“T.T.?” She called out.

“Alma?” Tristan responded from the bathroom. “What’s up?”

“Should I prepare some food for you?”

After a moment of silence, Tristan answered. “No thanks. I’m okay.”

“Alright see you later then,” Alma said and left the room.

“Shit!” Tristan swore. He just wasn’t in the mood for food right then. He was feeling too guilty to be able to keep anything down.

He had fucked up real bad. Even as he opened his mouth to ask Damon that silly question, he knew he was out of line. He had to apologize to Damon.

After the shower, he dressed in a sexy sports shirt and black jeans, remembering how hot Damon had looked in that outfit he had dressed in after his shower. He had fought the urge to get off the bed and throw himself into Damon’s arms, where he so desperately wanted to be. Damon didn’t look like he would have accepted it. Hell, he wouldn’t have accepted it.

Just as Tristan was thinking about how to apologize for his silly attitude, the door opened and Damon entered. Without looking in Tristan’s direction, he toed off his sneakers and slid into bed.