Chapter 9 Damon Reid vs. Tristan Thomas: An explosive encounter…Morning after!

***

Tristan's eyelids fluttered open as warm sunlight intruded on his drowsy slumber, caressing his ravaged body. He lay sprawled in the middle of the king-sized bed, half on his back and half on his side, his limbs heavy under the sheets, unwilling to obey him. He hurt all over.

He groaned as he tried to sit up. Fuck! The distinct ache inside his arse reminded him of the previous night's events.

“Oh fuck!” He swore out loud. Had he really allowed himself to be plowed by Damon? He buried his head under a pillow and spewed out some curses. How the fuck was he going to be able to face him this morning? And he wasn’t even in bed with him. Meaning he was awake somewhere. Tristan groaned again. Then he started thinking about what happened between Damon and himself the night before. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. It was mind-blowingly fantastic. Shit! Damon had defiantly rocked his world. At this point, Tristan was grinning like an idiot.

With a laugh, he hopped out of bed and cursed loudly at the ache that sliced through his butt. He walked slowly into the bathroom and took a quick shower, then brushed his teeth with a spare toothbrush which Damon had obviously left for him. He couldn’t find his clothes but realized there were clean sweatpants and a matching grey t-shirt on the couch near the dresser, so he wore that and went downstairs to look for Damon. Better to get this out of the way…the morning after. He wasn’t looking forward to it at all dammit!

From the delicious smells coming out of the kitchen area, Tristan was sure the cook was preparing something really good. The house seems awfully quiet though save for the classical music playing in the background. Handle Water Music. He had always loved that. He started for the kitchen.

The sight that met him in the kitchen stopped him in his tracks. Damon in a tight white wife-beater and red sweatpants, cooking like a pro. God, the man was hotness personified!

“Hey,” Damon said softly, looking up from what he was doing when he heard Tristan enter the kitchen.

“Hey.” Tristan’s gaze flicked to his for a nanosecond and quickly turned away to stare at a spot on the kitchen counter. He couldn’t bring himself to look Damon in the eye. He felt embarrassed. He had allowed his arse to be fucked for goodness sake. And he had made it embarrassingly obvious that he had enjoyed it. He couldn’t have hidden that fact even if his life had depended on it anyway. Now he didn’t know how to act, didn’t know how Damon perceived him, he just didn’t know anything.

Damon took in Tristan’s demeanor and immediately knew what was happening. He turned off the heat beneath the pancake and started towards him. When he got to Tristan, Damon simply drew him into his arms and held him. Tristan was stiff initially but relaxed eventually, burying his face in Damon’s neck. Damon nuzzled his nose into his hair and inhaled.

"I like the way you smell." He murmured. “How did you sleep?” He asked, his voice very low. As if he was trying to soothe a skittish cat.

“Very well,” Tristan murmured into Damon’s neck.

“You okay?” Damon asked.

“What do you think?” Tristan shot back bringing his face up from Damon’s neck to look him in the eye. “I'm sore. Hurting."

Damon brought his lips to Tristan’s ear and flicked his tongue over the shell of his ear, then nipped his lobe. “I’m sorry.”

Tristan shivered and moaned helplessly. “Damon…”

“Just wanna kiss it and make it better.”

“Feed me first,” Tristan said getting a chuckle out of Damon.

"Do I get to kiss you all over after breakfast?" Damon asked huskily. He was hard.

"We’ll see," Tristan said with an uneasy laugh. He couldn’t believe he actually had a hard-on. What the fuck was wrong with him?”

“So…if you’re as sore as you claim…what are you doing with this?” Damon asked bringing a hand between them to squeeze Tristan’s hard cock.

“Fuck Damon.” Tristan moaned. “I can’t help it when I’m around you.” He whimpered. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

“Oh yeah?” Damon picked Tristan up and deposited him on the kitchen counter. He didn’t miss the flash of pain that crossed Tristan’s face when his butt touched the surface. Shit! Damon tugged Tristan’s sweatpants down and freed his hard cock. Then he bent and swallowed it whole.

“Fuuuuck!” Tristan couldn’t help the scream that tore out of his lips. “Shit Damon,” He added in a whisper, “There are people in this house.”

Damon released his cock long enough to answer that they were alone, then took Tristan’s balls into his hot mouth.

“Oh my God, Damon.” Tristan squeaked.

Damon took the head of his cock back into his mouth and swiped his tongue over it. Then he dipped to the underside, tracing the ridge with infinite slowness.

Sound gurgled in Tristan’s throat. He couldn’t breathe under the onslaught of pleasure, but he could watch. Fisting his hands at his sides, he watched as Damon bobbed, taking his cock to the back of his throat. The tongue swirling around his sensitive head was even more amazing. Damon took him deep, nose pressed against Tristan’s groin as he hummed. The vibrations ran down his length and tickled his spine, drawing up his balls.

Tristan cried out and buried his hands in Damon’s short, blond hair. The orgasm swirled at the base of his spine, growing hotter and wider as Damon thumbed his balls, squeezing and rolling.

“Ugh…Damon…gonna...” He wasn’t making sense but Damon understood him and sealed his lips tighter around him. And when he swallowed around Tristan's cock he heard a gasp and then he was coming, pulsing in Damon’s throat and mouth. The orgasm tore through him, drawing a roar from his hoarse throat as his eyesight dimmed.

Damon sucked him clean and allowed his cock to pop out of his mouth. Then he pulled his sweats back up. Tristan’s eyes remained closed as tiny tremors shook his frame.