Beta Test (#gaymers) (26 page)

“Oh
fuck
, bite me,” Tristan moaned as Ravi’s teeth scraped his shoulder blade. Later he could be ashamed of how shameless he was acting, how bossy. Right now, all he knew was how damn good this felt.

But Ravi seemed to like him all strung out and demanding. “Oh yeah. That’s it.”

He sucked a hard love bite right under Tristan’s shoulder blade at the same instant two fingers slid home inside. Fucking insistently right from the start, Ravi seemed to know instinctively what Tristan secretly yearned for—a little rough, a lot dirty and absolutely forceful and commanding. He didn’t want quiet negotiations or softly whispered pleas. Tristan wanted to be consumed by this man, by their lust.

“Now. Please now.” Tristan begged even as he thrilled at how in control of the scene Ravi was. He wasn’t getting fucked until Ravi decided and that was exactly how he liked it. His dick dragged against the smooth cotton of the sheets, a delicious friction that had him close to climaxing from only that and Ravi’s fingers.

Ravi didn’t ask him if he was sure, didn’t make him beg a second time, and simply moved into position behind him, dick nudging Tristan’s rim with steady pressure.

Tristan pushed back, eager for the pressure to turn to a burn, then stretch as Ravi pushed inside. Tristan’s breath caught as it always did, the feel of someone
inside
him almost more than he could take. The way it lit him up from inside almost scared him with how good it felt, especially when Ravi started moving.

He didn’t recognize his own voice as he moaned and cried out, the sensations more than he could bear quietly. He bit the sheet, trying to stifle the noise, but Ravi reached down and tugged the sheet loose. “Let me hear you. I want to hear how much you want this.”

“Need it.”

“Yeah. Let me give it to you. Let me give you what you need. Take it.” Ravi moved so that he slid against Tristan’s gland with every thrust, sitting up now so he was fucking in earnest, hard and fast, with a punishing rhythm that left Tristan no room to think about anything else.

Only this man.

This bed.

These sensations, chasing out every bit of doubt about why he needed this so much, why he wanted this.

This connection. The thing he’d run from for so long, knowing that if they fucked, the weird way that he was wired wouldn’t let him pretend any longer. Now he embraced it, sank into it as surely as he matched Ravi’s rhythm.

“Harder,” he moaned. “Oh God, please, I need it harder. Need you.” Was that really his voice crying out and begging?

It must have been because Ravi complied, going hard and deep. “Take it, baby. Take all of it.”

“Yesssssss.”

“That’s it. Man, you are so hot, humping my mattress while I fuck you. Feels amazing.”

“Yes, oh yes. Please yes.” Tristan was an incoherent mess.

“Want to make you come,” Ravi panted.

Tristan was right there...almost...almost...

“Love you,” Ravi grunted, and it was probably only sex talking, but that was what tipped Tristan over, had him bucking his hips and shouting as he came. For that instant, it wasn’t merely connection, wasn’t just two bodies sharing and giving, taking and needing, it was love and it was beautiful. All the sharp, bright emotions that scared Tristan burst in his brain, an overwhelming Fourth of July—worthy symphony. And the best part was knowing that Ravi was right there with him, groaning and thrusting with no finesse as he finished, muttering over and over how much he loved Tristan.

It’s just sex.

But it didn’t feel that way, not this time, not with this guy. Maybe not ever again.

* * *

Being careful, Ravi pulled out and flopped down next to Tristan after he took care of the condom. He stroked Tristan’s still-heaving back idly. “That was...
intense.
”

“Too intense?” Tristan opened an eye, peering at Ravi intently.

“Never, babe. Never.” Ravi leaned over and kissed him solidly.

“Good because Patrick—”

“Shall never be mentioned in my bed again.” Ravi laughed. “Seriously.”

“
Seriously
, it’s hard for me to do that without
feeling.
”

“You’re supposed to feel, babe. That’s the whole point.” Ravi kept up his massage of Tristan’s back muscles.

“I mean...it helped that you said...what you said...” Tristan trailed off, even the back of his neck flushing pink. “Never mind.”

“I meant it. I think I love you. And for the record, I’d like you whether or not you came to the gala tonight, whether or not you fought with your parents and whether or not you bottomed. I love
you.
”

“Even though I can be a neurotic idiot?”

“Yeah, but you’re
my
neurotic guy, and you don’t get to call yourself an idiot, okay?”

“You’d really want to be with me even if I’d gotten up on stage with my mom?”

“She’s your mom, babe. I think I wasn’t really seeing that clearly before. This is your mom. And you’re allowed to have all the complicated feelings you need to about her and this campaign. And it’s not fair of me to pressure you about that. So, yes, I’m falling for you regardless of who your parents are or your relationship with them.”

“I...I...”

Ravi waited patiently, not wanting to prod, not daring to hope what might come next.

“I could maybe love you too,” Tristan said softly.

“Yeah?” Ravi beamed at him, hauling him in for a kiss.

“Yeah, and I’m sorry for saying you always leave. I said a lot of things I didn’t really mean.”

“You weren’t wrong there, but I want to be different for you. You, I want to stick around for. With. I want to stick around together. Make this thing work.”

Tristan stroked Ravi’s face, their mouths still mere inches from each other. “And make it work including
at
work, right? I really don’t want
either
of us having to job hunt. But I would—”

“You won’t have to. We’ll make it work. And I’m not going to think about how awkward it would be if it ended. Not when the beginning is so awesome. I want...” He gulped, never having voiced this desire before. “I want more with you, Tris. A real relationship.”

“I think we could.” Tristan worried his lip with his tongue.

“Think you could come up with a spreadsheet to make that happen?” Ravi laughed, because the alternative was to let all this emotion trickle out his eyes and
that
so wasn’t happening.

“I can try.” And then they were kissing, and there was nothing more to say for a good long while.

* * *

Later, much later, after a shower that morphed into round two and new sheets because Tristan insisted, Ravi lay stroking Tristan’s hair while they watched TV from his bed. They had the late news on because Ravi wanted to see if there was any coverage of the gala. That and he wasn’t ready to fall asleep, wasn’t ready for this day to end.

But unfortunately, he hadn’t banked on the second lead story.

“Irene Lily-Jones announced her run for governor tonight,” the news anchor announced, showing footage of a beaming woman with platinum hair. On a stage that Tristan should have been on.
Fuck.
He reached for the remote, intending to flip away, but Tristan stayed his hand.

The anchor went on to say what a darling she was of both fiscal and social conservatives and showed some early poll numbers that were surprisingly high.

“They didn’t mention her family,” Tristan said as the segment ended. “That’s good, right?”

“It doesn’t mean they won’t go digging as the campaign goes on, but yeah, it’s good if it makes you more comfortable.” Ravi tried for tact, never his strong suit.

“It does...It’s weird, isn’t it, wanting her to have a good evening while
not
wanting to be there myself? Wanting her to be happy, while not wanting her to lead my state?”

“Not weird, just human. I still love my family too. I get it.”

“Your sister seemed nice. I’m sorry about the rest of your family, though. They’re missing out.”

“Actually about that...” Ravi fiddled with the edge of the comforter, fingers stroking over his favorite group of stars. Man, could he really do this? Do this to
them
? Right now, when everything was so new and fresh again? But could he really not, either? “I need to ask you something, and I want you to feel free to say no, okay?”

“Okay.” Tristan stroked his biceps.

“Avani’s convinced me to go to her wedding, but I want to bring you along. As my date.” As soon as he said the words, he knew this was the right course of action, one that Avani would likely support, difficult as it was sure to be—
this
was what he’d been hesitating over. Somehow, he’d known deep down that bringing a date was an option, but it was this huge, scary step and—

“Yes,” Tristan said without hesitation.

“Hold up.” Ravi raised a hand. “It’s going to be awkward. My mother and grandmother may not speak to you all weekend. Heck, they may not speak to
me.
And Avani says that more of the rest of the family is accepting now than I think, but I can’t guarantee anything and you might be miserable and I’m definitely going to be miserable...”
And I really don’t want you to see me like that.
That was what was really behind all of Ravi’s ramblings. He didn’t want Tristan to see him at his most vulnerable, when he wasn’t the cool, fun guy with all the friends and social life.

“Yes.” Tristan pressed a finger against Ravi’s lips. “Yes, I will go. And I don’t care if it’s miserable. It’s important to you that we go, so we’ll go. And I love you for who you are, not your family, okay?”

“Mmmph,” Ravi mumbled against Tristan’s finger before he moved it. “I love you too. And I love you for doing this for me—”

“I’m doing it for us,” Tristan said firmly. “Because I meant it about wanting to be together, and like it or not, our families are a part of that. We’ll deal with them together.”

“I like the sound of that.” They kissed again, sweet and tender, and long enough that the news gave way to some talk show, which gave way to silence when Ravi found the remote with his free hand. And silence gave way to hope, loud and overwhelming in all its buoyancy.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tristan collapsed onto one of the gold chairs with a groan. All around them, the chaos of the wedding reception swirled.

“Tired?” Ravi asked, concern darkening his eyes.

“Not at all,” Tristan lied. This was day three of the wedding rituals and day four of their trip to New Jersey, and yes, he was exhausted by all the new people and interesting events to observe and take part in. But even as tired as he was, Ravi was way more strung out, lines etching his forehead and around his eyes. He’d been working overtime trying to make sure Tristan felt comfortable.

“Liar.” Ravi’s hand moved like he might pat Tristan’s head or shoulder, then dropped. They were both trying to figure out how much PDA was okay, and this awkward dance of I’d-really-like-to-touch-my-boyfriend was only mitigated by their nice private hotel room upstairs. Which was where Tristan most wanted to be, but judging by the four chefs still working catering stations and the DJ picking up steam, they had hours to go before that happened. The ceremony earlier in the day had been almost two hours long as well, making for one very intense Saturday.

Lavish decorations dotted the huge ballroom—pink tablecloths with huge centerpieces of pink, purple, red and orange flowers with gold touches and floating candles interspersed on the table as well. The brightly dressed family members and friends made him painfully aware of his navy suit. Not that he was the only Caucasian person in attendance—far from it, as it seemed that Balan and Avani had chosen to invite anyone they had even a passing acquaintance with, along with their far-flung families.

“I’m going to get you more food,” Ravi said decisively, getting to his feet.

“Please no,” Tristan said weakly, but Ravi was already gone, joining the huge queue of people in the buffet line for the specialty dessert stations. He was going to have to join Ravi in jogging for the next month to burn off all the calories of this trip. And Ravi seemed to have this strange compulsion to keep him fed. Well, not
strange
exactly—Tristan understand the impulse because he kept wishing there was some way to take care of Ravi beyond simply being here. Not able to freely touch his boyfriend was a special kind of torture. He tried to remind himself that the endless plates of food were a stand-in for the cuddling and touching they’d grown quite comfortable with back in Santa Monica.

“Mister Fluffy...oh Mister Fluffy...” a small voice called from behind Tristan, and he swiveled in time to see one of Ravi’s small nephews pop up from under the table behind him. “Have you seen Mister Fluffy?” he asked, eyes big and brown and dangerously liquid.

“Uh...no.” Tristan held up his hands to show he wasn’t hiding a stuffed animal. He’d seen the kid earlier in the day clutching some sort of threadbare animal with a floppy red bow.

“He’s an elephant. And
very
important,” the boy said solemnly. “I leaved him under a table to nap-nap but now he’s
gone.
” The boy’s voice crept dangerously close to an all-out wail and there was really nothing left to do except drop to one knee and lift the edge of the heavy tablecloth.

“Shall we try to find him?” Tristan tried to keep his voice soothing. Not his strong suit, he knew. He’d been around more kids this week than in his entire life, and he still wasn’t entirely sure how to appease the whims of these small humans. “No elephant here,” he said.

They moved to the next table, one whose occupants were blessedly either in line for more food or on the dance floor. He lifted the edge of the table and mercifully spotted a splash of red on the carpet against the far side of the table. “Found him.”

“You get him?” the kid asked in a wheedling tone that said another wail might be forthcoming.

Tristan scooted all the way under the table, then nabbed the well-loved furry elephant. He backed out, clutching the animal in one hand, ready to hand it to—