Beta Test (#gaymers) (13 page)

Milking the shaft with his tongue, he hummed contentedly, eliciting a series of low moans from Ravi.

“That’s fucking perfect. Look how deep you are. You’re amazing.” Ravi growled the praise, his hand stroking Tristan’s hair.

Oh yes.
Unbidden, his hips started humping against the mattress as he lay next to Ravi.

“Close. So fucking close.” Ravi’s eyes were squished shut and his head tipped back, exposing the long column of his throat. His hand came down to fist the base of his shaft, clearly ready to stroke himself the rest of the way there.

Vaguely aware that there was a conversation they hadn’t had, Tristan pulled back to watch, resting his head on Ravi’s thigh.

“Touch...nipples,” Ravi ordered. And man, Tristan
loved
that commanding tone to his voice. He complied instantly, fingering and pinching Ravi’s nipples. “Fuck. Right there.”

Ravi’s hips bucked and his whole body bowed as he came in long spurts all over his stomach and chest. And oh, hell, the sight tipped Tristan off too, made him thrust against the bed until he too was coming with a strangled moan.

“Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck
.” Ravi shuddered and hauled Tristan down next to him. “Did you just come without even touching yourself?”

“Um. Yeah.” Tristan looked away.

“That’s fucking awesome, man. Is that how you usually jerk off?”

“Sometimes. There’s usually a towel or shirt involved.” He laughed self-consciously. “I know it’s weird—”

“Not weird. Hot as fuck. Makes me want to fuck you, see if you can come that way.”

“Um. Maybe.” Truth was getting fucked in that position was one of Tristan’s favorite things in the world, but he hadn’t bottomed since Patrick. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to feel that emotionally vulnerable and open again. “Not sure...”

“It’s okay. We don’t have to go there.” Ravi rubbed his shoulder. “And you don’t get to say you’re bad at oral again, okay?”

“Sorry I didn’t...you know...swallow.”

“Figured you might not.” Ravi laughed. “And contrary to your beliefs, I’m not a selfish guy. I’m not going to pressure you for more than you want to give. That was fucking perfect even without swallowing.”

“It’s not that I
never
swallow, but...it’s kind of a big deal for me. And uh...we haven’t talked about...” Tristan wasn’t quite sure how to broach this conversation. “You...um...volunteer
a
lot
...”

Ravi laughed. “Tris. Are you trying to ask me whether or not I’m HIV positive?”

“Yeah.”

“No. I’m tested religiously, and I would have told you before we did
anything
if I was. And as for my volunteering, I lost an uncle to AIDS.”

“You did?” Tristan tried not to look shocked but knew he probably failed.

“My family never talked about it. Dadi and the others called it cancer, but I was a teenager when I figured it out. I asked my mom and we ended up having a huge argument about it. That’s when I first came out.”

“That was brave of you.”

“More like stupid. I don’t exactly recommend coming out in a fit of anger.”

“Trust me that coming out with a carefully scripted speech and a checklist isn’t any guarantee it’ll be easier.”

“A checklist?” Ravi laughed, but not unkindly. “Why am I not surprised? And yeah, I know you get it. Negative people are going to react negatively regardless. But still, I might have waited until I was closer to leaving for college. It made for a miserable home life the last few years of high school.”

“I’m sorry.” Tristan touched his arm. His sympathy felt vastly inadequate, but it was all he had. “For your uncle too. That sucks, but it’s nice that you volunteer in his honor.”

“In his honor...” Ravi’s head tilted toward Tristan. “I’ve never really thought of it that way, but yeah, I suppose I’m trying to do something in his memory. Make sure others have the resources he didn’t.”

“I wish...” Tristan drifted off.

“Yeah?” Ravi prodded.

“I wish I had something like that to remember Derek.” The words tumbled out of Tristan’s mouth. He’d never spoken that wish aloud before. “
Anything
to feel more connected...”

“I know what you mean.” Ravi’s eyes were infinitely understanding.

“My parents donate to MADD every year, but that’s not...personal. I thought about getting a memorial tattoo but it was a stupid idea—”

“It’s not stupid. You totally should. And there are charities that go into high schools to educate kids that you could get more involved with.”

“Maybe. I’m not a really big joiner. And I don’t like being in front of people.”

“Start.” Ravi laughed. “And charities always need behind-the-scenes guys too. But for someone who doesn’t like being in front of people, you certainly hand out orders well.”

“That’s different.”

“Maybe you simply need something to say. A plan to execute.”

Tristan’s heart gave a little flutter. It was as if Ravi could see all the way through him, back to the kid he’d been when Derek died, back to who he’d been in high school and college, watching others join clubs while he hung back to go play video games alone in his room. And instead of seeing a loser, Ravi seemed to find something...admirable about him. And that, more than the sex, was the most intoxicating thing about spending time with Ravi.

“We should move to the non-gross bed for sleep,” Ravi said easily. “And maybe shower again.”

“Would you be offended—”

“If you want to shower alone?” Ravi shoved his shoulder. “Go. Enjoy. Do you want your own bed tonight too? This one is kind of done for though.”

“Nah. Sharing would be...nice.” Tristan knew he was blushing again. It had been so long since he’d slept next to another person, and as much as he craved his space, he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of waking up next to Ravi, especially since such things were sure to be temporary.

* * *

Three showers in less than twenty-four hours was excessive, even for Ravi, but he needed wet hair to style it effectively. That and he’d woken up with absolutely horrid bed head. No way was he going to set up their booth looking like he’d tangoed with a paper shredder. Not that Tristan seemed to care about Ravi’s hair when they’d jerked each other off when they first woke up.

That had been...sweet. And hot. But it was the sweetness that caught Ravi by surprise. Kissing Tristan while they stroked each other had packed a surprisingly emotional wallop, one that sent Ravi scrambling for the shower and his hair products. He needed to not feel so stripped bare in front of Tristan. To that end, he put on a light peach button-down over a T-shirt and black jeans, even though he knew he’d probably lose the shirt as soon as they started moving the big pieces of the booth.

He went through his usual routine with mousse, spray gel, round brush and his ionic hair dryer in front of the mirror, but he gradually became aware of Tristan’s eyes on him. Tristan perched on the edge of the bed, checklists for the booth setup spread around him, but his gaze was locked on Ravi.

“Is that what you do every morning?” Tristan asked when Ravi turned the dryer off. His own hair had been combed into submission while Ravi showered. He bet Tristan could get that perfectly straight part in his hair without even glancing in the mirror.

“Yup.”

“Seems like a lot of work.”

“Do you iron every morning, preppy boy?” Ravi kept his voice a gentle tease. Tristan was in what Ravi thought of as the casual version of his uniform: ironed khakis and a blue polo shirt.

“Yeah, unless I do it the night before.”

“Seems like a lot of work.” Ravi raised an eyebrow. “I send my stuff that needs it to the dry cleaners, but otherwise I like to keep it simple.”

Tristan snorted. “Simple is
so
not you. No offense.”

“None taken,” Ravi said, but inside he bristled a bit. This whole scene was a bit too domestic for him. Morning sex. Room service oatmeal for him and eggs for Tristan and a shared pot of coffee. Getting ready together. This felt perilously close to a relationship, and they’d already agreed that wasn’t happening. Besides, Ravi really didn’t feel in a good position for a relationship with
anyone.

But despite all that, images of last night kept playing his brain, clouding his logic circuits. Tristan’s mouth, hot and eager. Tristan’s eyes, so full of hope and wonder. Tristan’s hands shaking as they caressed Ravi. Tristan humping the mattress...It didn’t matter that he’d had three orgasms in the past day. Ravi was totally ready to go again, and that scared him more than a little. He liked this, liked Tristan far too much.

“You ready for the setup? I kind of can’t wait to see the convention floor.” Tristan bounced a bit, like a giddy kid.

“You’re totally a closet gamer geek aren’t you?” Ravi laughed, some of his annoyance dissipating because Tristan really was that cute when he got excited about work.

“Well, duh. We’ve got an inside look at one of the year’s biggest gaming conventions. Aren’t you a little eager to see the other booths and hear the announcements?”

“You want to know a secret?” Ravi leaned down. Tristan smelled like soap and his classic aftershave and a little hint of sex, and Ravi almost forgot what they were talking about. “I mainly play games with my friends. If there’s a LAN party, I’m all over it, or if my guys want to all log on and play
Left 4 Dead
or something, I’m always down with it, but I don’t really keep up with the gamer news other than what impacts me as a designer.”

Tristan made a face. “I’ve never played with friends much at all. Never done a LAN party or anything like that. But maybe...”

“Maybe?” Ravi prodded.

“Maybe we could play something tonight after we’re done with setup. We’ve both got our laptops, right?”

“Right.” Ravi laughed with relief because it was a fabulous idea. Blowing things up together was exactly what they needed to get back in the friend zone away from this pseudo couple BS.

Chapter Thirteen

Ravi’s bad mood continued to mount even as Tristan’s unbridled enthusiasm lasted through unloading the truck. Ravi kept rolling his eyes at him because he was such a rubbernecker—head whipping around constantly to see what the other booths were doing.

“Dude. If you don’t watch it, you’re going to get hurt,” Ravi warned. His legs burned and it wasn’t noon yet. It was a long walk from the parking garage to the vendor entrance and finally to the convention floor where all around them other companies were preparing for tomorrow’s opening. Compared to some, their tasks were relatively simple. At another booth, one flight-simulator game had an actual cockpit replica being assembled while a driving game had two real European sports cars. Some kids’ game had them both beat with a jungle complete with swinging vines, fake trees and mesh walkways leading to multiple levels. That booth had easily a half-dozen people working on it.

When they were at the office in Santa Monica on conference calls with their other offices and receiving gifts from rabid fans, it was easy to feel like
Space Villager
was the biggest deal in the gaming world. However, this con was a harsh reminder that this was a crowded industry, with dozens of games vying for fans’ attention. The display they’d worked months on back in California didn’t feel so cutting edge now, which had him in a funk.

“Do we need to break to get you food?” Tristan asked. His eyes added the unspoken subtext
because you’re being a real bastard right now.

“Nah.”

“Is this one of those temperamental-artist things?” Tristan asked in a lower voice. “Like I’m simply marveling at all the talent on display, but maybe you’re having some...professional jealousy?”

“Damn. You’re good.” Ravi didn’t bother denying it. Somehow Tristan managed to see everything, even the parts Ravi usually kept well hidden.

“Hey, I just made the organizational strategy. You drew the concept pictures. But you need to calm down. Our booth is going to rock.”

“Here’s to hoping,” Ravi said as they turned the corner and approached the row of booths that contained their space. They were in the middle of the row, which was another thing to complain about. “This is not the space we signed up for. Our backdrop pieces aren’t fitting right.”

“They fit fine.” Tristan’s voice was low and soothing. He stuck a hand out like he might be about to touch Ravi’s arm, then thought better of it. So far this morning, neither of them had mentioned their extracurricular activities, which was exactly how Ravi liked it. “It’s just the covers on the pieces. It will all come together soon.”

“Still. Weren’t we supposed to have a large endcap space?”

Tristan looked at the ground. “We were. I’ve got the paperwork showing the confirmation—”

“Then how about you talk to someone about getting us switched?”

“I don’t know if it’s worth making a fuss over...”

“Of course it is.” Ravi slapped one of the metal poles marking the boundary of the booth for emphasis. The pole gave a loud creak, and the drapery across the back of the booth rippled.

“Look out!” Tristan called, but it was too late. The top post rattled loose of its moorings and came swinging toward Ravi.

Smack.
His vision exploded with little fireworks as the pole caught him right on the temple.

“Oh fuck.” Ravi sat down on the concrete floor with a
thud
, drapery pooling in his lap.

“You’re bleeding.” Tristan knelt next to him. Ravi was vaguely aware of other people coming over and hovering on the edges of their booth.

“Can I help?”

“What do you need?”

Ravi didn’t look up to see who spoke and he was only vaguely aware of Tristan’s response.
Tris.
That’s what I need.
Just Tristan.

Tristan lowered his voice and leaned in by Ravi’s uninjured side. “I’m going to have to touch you now, and you can just get mad at me later, okay?” he said as he helped Ravi lie back.

“Fine. Just don’t faint.” Ravi tried for humor despite his pounding head because Tristan had gone all pale on him. His hand darted up to his hairline and came away sticky with blood. His stomach heaved, and all of a sudden the pain in his head and shoulder registered and it hurt like a bitch and Tristan could touch him all he wanted if he could make the pain stop.