Read Online Crossing Borders by Z. A. Maxfield - Free Book Online
Authors: Z. A. Maxfield
Tags: M/M romance
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them. Without thinking, he kissed and licked Michael's lips where they'd been bitten, feeling the warm blood on his tongue.
“Michael,” said Tristan with wonder, tasting blood and salty, sweaty skin and something unknown that was just Michael. He hissed as his limp cock slid from Michael's body.
Rolling with him, Michael held him fast, not responding as words were inadequate to describe how he felt. Instead, he wrapped himself around Tristan, showing him with his body that it was good. He put a hand between them, slipping the latex off Tristan's cock, tying it off and throwing it in the trash. He felt Tristan sigh where he lay bonelessly in his arms.
The intensity of the experience rolled over Michael in waves. He stroked and rocked Tristan in a state of slight shock, still trembling in the aftermath of the best orgasm of his life. He had meant, as the older, wiser, and more experienced of the two, to show Tristan the ropes, as it were, to aid him and build his confidence. He clung to Tristan even as he closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. Life was full of irony. This boy, this cocky college sophomore with his freckled, white baby hands and soft-as-a-girl's skin owned him. Owned him .
It was a lot to take in.
Michael sighed, realizing that Tristan's breathing was even, and his facial features were lax and childlike. Michael kissed his sleeping lover, stroking the silky red hair off his face. He'd be damned if he'd stare at that beautiful sleeping face all night, he thought. Yet, Michael yawned, maybe just for a few more minutes, so he could commit this to memory, in case. Just a few more minutes …
Chapter Seven
By three in the morning Michael knew he wasn't going to sleep and that his study of the boy/man sleeping beside him was bordering on the obsessive. He decided to get up and grab a snack, maybe something they could both eat in bed, and move the laundry from the washer into the dryer. He fixed a quick plate of things to nibble, cheese and meats and some veggies with ranch dressing. He padded around the house, checking locks and windows. Picking up the food and a couple of water bottles, Michael finally returned to the bedroom.
When he entered it was to find Tristan sitting up in bed with the blanket around his shoulders. Michael placed the food on the nightstand and climbed in beside him.
“All right?” he asked.
When he didn't get an answer, he put his hand on Tristan's shoulder, only to find it icy and trembling. Tristan's whole body shook under his touch, and concerned now, Michael drew an unresisting Tristan to him. The boy melted into his warmth, sinking into him like a frightened animal.
“Hey,” said Michael, stroking his hair. “Hey.” When Tristan didn't answer him, he asked gently, “Regrets?”
“ Iacta alea est .” Tristan buried his face in Michael's neck. “Go figure. I remember that on the night when I'm having the hottest sex of my life.”
“Really? The hottest sex of your life?” Michael grinned, but when Tristan growled at him a little, he tightened his arms. “I…what does it mean? Beyond habeas corpus and ex post facto, I'm a little weak in Latin.”
“It means 'the die has been cast.'” Tristan was shaking less, and Michael, taking this as a good sign, kept him talking. “That's what people say when they've done something…irrevocable.”
“You know, people don't really say that, Sparky,” he couldn't help mentioning. “It's kind of…”
“Obscure, I know. I'm babbling.” He took a deep breath. Michael just stroked his back in circles, keeping contact. Tristan leaned into his touch, soaking it in like a sponge. “I've crossed the Rubicon,” he sighed. “It was a World Civilization multiple choice question. A. Crossed the Rubicon, B. Played with dice. C. I'm babbling again, aren't I?”
Michael digested this, wondering what to say, wanting to say the perfect thing
“Michael,” said Tristan with wonder, tasting blood and salty, sweaty skin and something unknown that was just Michael. He hissed as his limp cock slid from Michael's body.
Rolling with him, Michael held him fast, not responding as words were inadequate to describe how he felt. Instead, he wrapped himself around Tristan, showing him with his body that it was good. He put a hand between them, slipping the latex off Tristan's cock, tying it off and throwing it in the trash. He felt Tristan sigh where he lay bonelessly in his arms.
The intensity of the experience rolled over Michael in waves. He stroked and rocked Tristan in a state of slight shock, still trembling in the aftermath of the best orgasm of his life. He had meant, as the older, wiser, and more experienced of the two, to show Tristan the ropes, as it were, to aid him and build his confidence. He clung to Tristan even as he closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. Life was full of irony. This boy, this cocky college sophomore with his freckled, white baby hands and soft-as-a-girl's skin owned him. Owned him .
It was a lot to take in.
Michael sighed, realizing that Tristan's breathing was even, and his facial features were lax and childlike. Michael kissed his sleeping lover, stroking the silky red hair off his face. He'd be damned if he'd stare at that beautiful sleeping face all night, he thought. Yet, Michael yawned, maybe just for a few more minutes, so he could commit this to memory, in case. Just a few more minutes …
Chapter Seven
By three in the morning Michael knew he wasn't going to sleep and that his study of the boy/man sleeping beside him was bordering on the obsessive. He decided to get up and grab a snack, maybe something they could both eat in bed, and move the laundry from the washer into the dryer. He fixed a quick plate of things to nibble, cheese and meats and some veggies with ranch dressing. He padded around the house, checking locks and windows. Picking up the food and a couple of water bottles, Michael finally returned to the bedroom.
When he entered it was to find Tristan sitting up in bed with the blanket around his shoulders. Michael placed the food on the nightstand and climbed in beside him.
“All right?” he asked.
When he didn't get an answer, he put his hand on Tristan's shoulder, only to find it icy and trembling. Tristan's whole body shook under his touch, and concerned now, Michael drew an unresisting Tristan to him. The boy melted into his warmth, sinking into him like a frightened animal.
“Hey,” said Michael, stroking his hair. “Hey.” When Tristan didn't answer him, he asked gently, “Regrets?”
“ Iacta alea est .” Tristan buried his face in Michael's neck. “Go figure. I remember that on the night when I'm having the hottest sex of my life.”
“Really? The hottest sex of your life?” Michael grinned, but when Tristan growled at him a little, he tightened his arms. “I…what does it mean? Beyond habeas corpus and ex post facto, I'm a little weak in Latin.”
“It means 'the die has been cast.'” Tristan was shaking less, and Michael, taking this as a good sign, kept him talking. “That's what people say when they've done something…irrevocable.”
“You know, people don't really say that, Sparky,” he couldn't help mentioning. “It's kind of…”
“Obscure, I know. I'm babbling.” He took a deep breath. Michael just stroked his back in circles, keeping contact. Tristan leaned into his touch, soaking it in like a sponge. “I've crossed the Rubicon,” he sighed. “It was a World Civilization multiple choice question. A. Crossed the Rubicon, B. Played with dice. C. I'm babbling again, aren't I?”
Michael digested this, wondering what to say, wanting to say the perfect thing
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