Macarons at Midnight (22 page)

“Oh jeez, bro. You’re no fun.”

H
ENRY
TURNED
up at Tristan’s apartment with flowers. They were just street-cart roses, nothing special, but it made him feel special to have someone to take them to.

After talking to Trixie at lunchtime, Henry had sent Tristan a message asking if he could take his dashingly handsome boyfriend out to dinner. He’d scored a reservation at the Waverly Inn and wanted to show off a little.

When Tristan opened the door to his apartment, Henry had his arm twisted behind his back, hiding the flowers, then unfurled his elbow dramatically to thrust them into Tristan’s face.

“These are for you.”

The color rose in Tristan’s cheeks, the sweetest pink, and Henry just had to lean in to kiss it.

“Thank you. No one ever bought me flowers before.”

Henry immediately vowed to do it more often.

He followed Tristan into the apartment and waited while Tristan stuck the flowers in a tall glass tumbler filled with a little water. He’d dressed nice: khakis and a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, making his milky smooth skin look even paler.

“You look amazing,” Henry said in a low voice. Tristan turned away from the sink with a shy smile, then reached out until Henry walked into his arms.

“So do you,” Tristan said. He nuzzled the skin between Henry’s throat and neck and kissed the skin there a few times.

The Waverly Inn was a Village classic. Right next to his building, a little upscale, yet still charming and intimate. Henry had requested a table near the window, giving them a view out over the street and ample opportunity to people watch if conversation drifted off.

Although the food was good—no, more than good,
delicious
—Henry spent more time staring across the table at his boyfriend. It felt good to say the word, even if only in his own head. They linked ankles where no one could see and talked about everything from Yorkshire to New York and all the things in between.

After a shared dessert, Henry took the check before Tristan could even see it and left a generous tip. He let his hand rest at Tristan’s lower back as they wandered out of the restaurant with full bellies, warm from the wine and attention, and paused on the street outside.

“You wanna come back to my place?” Henry asked. “You know, since it’s so far and all.”

Tristan reached up and ran his fingers through the tangle of Henry’s hair. “Was this the plan?” he teased. “Take me out for dinner then back to your flat to ravish me?”

Henry hummed low in his throat and pulled Tristan even closer, not caring that they were standing on a street corner. It was
New York
. Nobody cared.

“You say the word ‘ravish’ one more time, and I swear, I’ll fuck you against that lamppost over there.”

“Rrr….” Tristan was grinning like a goofball and rolled his
r
’s as Henry shoved his hands into the back pockets of Tristan’s pants. “Rrrradish.”

“Radish?”

“Yes. They’re delicious, peppery root vegetables.”

“I know what a radish is, you dork.”

He pulled one of his hands free and laced his fingers together with Tristan, gently tugging him in the direction of his own apartment. There was a cool breeze around, and Tristan pulled his sleeves down to cover his exposed arms.

“We could hit a bar first, if you like,” Henry said, passing the courtyard of a corner pub and taking a vague interest in a heated conversation between a woman in thick-framed glasses and a man with a designer handbag to rival anything Trixie ever carried.

“That’s okay. I’ve never really been into bars.”

“You just want to get home for that…
radishment
, don’t you?”

Tristan snorted, then stole a quick kiss. They almost didn’t miss a step.

I
N
HIS
apartment, Henry turned a few lamps in the bedroom on low and closed the window while Tristan used the bathroom. They were going to have sex. Again. That much he was sure of.

For weeks now, Henry’s nightstand had been stocked, waiting for this moment. It seemed like forever since the last time they’d both been free and not exhausted. He rubbed his hands on his jeans nervously, trying to dissipate some of the clamminess that had gathered there. When Tristan emerged from the bathroom, Henry smiled at him across the room and offered his arms as a safe space for Tristan to come into.

“Hi,” Tristan said, nuzzling at the sweet spot at Henry’s collar.

Their kiss was slow and full of longing. Tristan opened his mouth and his heart, letting Henry steal inside as he pushed his hands under the hem of Tristan’s shirt. After a few minutes of delicious kisses, Henry rocked his hips, dislodging the knot that was settling in his back, and stretched.

“You ready for bed?” he asked, elbows pointing to the ceiling as that knot was worked out. He grinned at Tristan and adored the cheeky smile he got in return.

They undressed themselves for no reason other than it was quicker. Having seen Tristan naked already, Henry thought he might be prepared for the creamy skin to be exposed again… but nope. His erection throbbed in his boxers when Tristan pushed his own underwear down and off.

Scooting back on the bed, Henry pulled the comforter back to give them both space to snuggle beneath it. Tristan was immediately in his arms again, hands exploring carefully as his lips pressed down Henry’s neck, over his collarbone, and down his belly.

“Tristan….”

Henry wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to say, which was probably a good thing since Tristan was ignoring him anyway. With sure movements, he gripped Henry’s cock and stroked it firmly, then lowered his head to lick and kiss and suck at the hardened flesh.

“Oh fuck,” Henry groaned, and he definitely meant to say that.

For a few minutes, he lay back and enjoyed the pure bliss of a warm mouth on his cock. Tristan was good at this and seemed to enjoy it, which made it all even better. The sight of Tristan’s head bobbing up and down, silky golden hair rumpled, was almost too much. Henry closed his eyes and threw an arm over them for good measure.

When Tristan started to gently knead his balls, Henry pulled back with a start.

“Sorry,” he said, touching his thumb to the corner of Tristan’s mouth. “I was about to embarrass myself.”

Tristan grinned again, a cheeky sinner, and rubbed at his damp mouth.

“I would have been okay with that.”

“Still might happen,” Henry said tightly.

Clearly pleased with himself, Tristan kissed back up Henry’s body and finished with three soft, quick kisses on Henry’s mouth.

“Do you have a preference?” he asked. “Top or bottom, I mean. Like, last time we….”

“I know what you meant. And no, not really. I like it both ways.”

“Me too.”

Henry ran his arm up and down Tristan’s a few times, a warm gesture. In response, Tristan reached up and pushed Henry’s hair out of his eyes.

“Can I have you tonight?” Henry asked, his voice low and full of promise.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Henry wrapped his hand around the back of Tristan’s head and drew their mouths together. He was ready to take control. He wanted the night to be something to remember.

He slowly rolled them together, reversing their positions and pinning Tristan to the bed with the weight of his body. The way Tristan immediately became compliant and submissive was almost too erotic; Henry groaned and bit his neck.

With Tristan whimpering beneath him, Henry took his time teasing the soft, warm body beneath his, wanting to get Tristan right on the same edge he’d been on a few minutes earlier. His slick fingers caressed down behind Tristan’s balls and slowly, carefully worked inside.

Tristan looked incredible.

The shy, softly spoken man was gone, all inhibitions carried off with the wind as he groaned and twisted and arched into the pleasure Henry’s fingers were bringing him. When he started to beg, murmuring, “Henry, please,” over and over, all of Henry’s resolve cracked.

Henry rolled a condom on with gently trembling fingers and Tristan flipped over onto his belly, pulling a pillow down from the pile at the head of the bed to hug to his chest. Apparently deciding Henry was taking too long, he wriggled his hips suggestively. Henry slapped his ass in response.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mr. Livingston,” Tristan said, and Henry could hear the amusement in his voice. “I might like it.”

“You might kill me,” Henry muttered, and shifted closer until he could halt those still-swaying hips with his own firm hands. “Hold
still
, would you?”

Tristan stopped and buried his face in the pillow or his arms, Henry wasn’t sure which.

After licking his bottom lip, then catching it between his teeth, Henry used his thumb to angle the head of his cock against Tristan’s hole. Once lined up, he waited, holding painfully still as Tristan whimpered and moaned for something he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, ask for.

With a teeth-aching pop, he pushed inside and felt Tristan gasp for breath.

“You’re okay,” Henry murmured, running his hand up and down Tristan’s flank. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

He was determined to do this right. When Tristan gave him the cue, Henry pushed in a little further, making his entry into his partner’s body slow and sure and careful.

Once he’d bottomed out, Henry leaned forward and spread his legs a little wider, pressing their chests together and lying almost completely over Tristan’s back. It was strangely intimate like this, especially when Tristan twisted his neck for a kiss over one shoulder.

“Go slow,” he begged.

“Sure thing.”

He went slow, kissing the back of Tristan’s neck and adoring the little breathy moans until neither of them could take it anymore, and Tristan was begging for hard and fast. Then Henry replaced the kisses with licks and nips and bites, marking his boyfriend possessively as he took over the task of pleasuring them both.

When he was almost too close to see straight, Henry pulled them both up and back until Tristan was kneeling over his lap. Like this, he had access to Tristan’s chest and cock, and while Tristan bounced up and down, chasing both their orgasms, Henry teased and stroked his cock.

One of Henry’s arms wrapped around Tristan’s chest, anchoring them together. It landed in the perfect position to tease at Tristan’s nipple, and it seemed to be that tiny stimulation that tipped him over the edge.

“Oh fuck
me
,” Tristan groaned and spilled hard over Henry’s wrist.

With his forehead pressed between Tristan’s shoulder blades, Henry snarled and growled possessively as he snapped his hips and let go at the deepest point he could reach.

Time, noise, and sight all disappeared for a few moments, and then Henry crashed back to earth. His chest was heaving, breathless, and his heart beat a rapid tattoo against his ribcage. Tristan swatted Henry’s hand away from his cock, giggling a little, then leaned forward onto his hands so they could extract themselves from one another.

“Jesus,” Henry said, still not sure all his internal organs had restarted again.

“Yes? How can I help?”

Tristan flopped forward onto his belly, then rolled onto his back and stretched languidly. He winced a little, then grinned widely.

“Did you just make a joke?” Henry demanded. “How the fuck do you have the brain power to joke? I swear I just killed about a hundred brain cells.”

“I have an uh-uh—” He yawned widely. “Extraordinarily large brain.”

Henry made quick work of tossing the condom in the trash, then used his previously discarded boxers to wipe his hand and—carefully—his cock.

Clean, or as clean as he was going to get, Henry lay down next to Tristan, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, sure fingers searched for and eventually found his own hand on the bedsheets. Henry let Tristan hold his hand and squeezed it gently.

“Henry?”

“
Yeah?” His heart pounded hard in his chest. Boom-boom. Boom-boom.

“I think I spunked on your sheets.”

Silence hung between them, then Henry snorted. “You’re forgiven.”

More time passed, and Henry ran his thumb back and forth over the delicate skin at Tristan’s wrist.

“Henry?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been radished that good before.”

“Tristan?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

With a big, heaving sigh, Tristan rolled onto his side and made Henry’s chest his pillow. Henry kicked up the thin summer comforter and covered them both to the waist, then wrapped his arms carefully around Tristan’s back. He carefully pressed his lips to Tristan’s golden hair and followed his own advice.

Squishy and chocolaty and delicious,

the couture version of a packaged classic.

Chocolate Cake

• 1 cup sugar
  
• 6 tablespoons vegetable oil
  
• 2 eggs
  
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
  
• ½ cup cocoa
  
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
  
• ½ teaspoon. salt
  
• 4 tablespoons sour cream
  

Cream Cheese Filling

• 4 tablespoons sour cream
  
• 4 tablespoons cream cheese, softened
  
• 3 to 3¼ cups confectioners’ sugar (to taste)
  
• ¼ teaspoon vanilla extract
  
• 1 teaspoon of milk (if needed)
  
• 1 cup mini chocolate chips (optional)
  
• Raspberry or orange extract (optional)