Chapter 3 Damon Reid vs. Tristan Thomas: An explosive encounter...feels!

***

Tristan entered his father's office after a quick dash to the bathroom and sat on the couch, facing his father and Damon. He couldn't help but notice the way Damon's mouth was set in a grim line, jaw tensed. Was he angry? Was he as confused as he was? One thing was clear though...Damon wanted to pretend that nothing had happened between them. Well, two people could play that game. But Tristan could fool any other person but himself... He was still shaken by the encounter and couldn't deny that.

Caleb cleared his throat and quickly went over the Albatros project, outlining exactly what was expected of Tristan. Tristan felt so numb that he couldn't bring himself to decline as he had intended to in the first place. He simply sat and listened to everything his father had to say and then gave a simple answer afterward...

"Okay."

"Okay? Yo...you're going to do it?" Caleb stuttered, turning to give Damon a surprised look.

"Isn't that why you called me here?" Tristan asked quietly. "I will handle it."

"Good," Caleb exclaimed. Then looking closely at his son's blank face, asked, "Son, are you alright."

"Sure. Can I go now? I'll go through the documents and get back to you if I have any questions."

"That would be great," Caleb answered, beaming as though he'd won the lottery.

"See you at home." With that, Tristan left his father's office without a glance in Damon's direction.

Damon had followed the exchange between father and son and was just as surprised as Caleb was. He kept picturing Tristan trembling against him and cursed himself for his lack of control even as he felt his cock harden in his pants. What the fuck had he gotten himself into, he growled at himself. Thank God he hadn't gone any further than he had wanted to. Tristan was one fucked-up kid. And he wanted nothing to do with him unless it concerned Albatros.

"Good job, Damon." Caleb Thomas beamed. "I don't know how you did it but, thanks."

Yeah, tell me about it, Damon thought. He'd certainly not expected that from Tristan.

***

Tristan woke up suddenly, panting and out of breath. He turned to look at the time on his bedside table. It was two forty-six a.m. He could still see and feel the rich visions and tremors as though he were still having the dream. He felt the wetness at the crotch of his pajama bottom and groaned aloud.

"Not again," he muttered, drawing his fingers through his bangs in agitation.

Tristan had been having erotic dreams about none other than Damon in the past two weeks since their encounter in the elevator. And they all ended with him ejaculating in his dreams. He was very worried and irritated because he was not a kid to be having wet dreams. And to think the dreams were about none other than Damon made it even worse.

This time, it had felt even more real. In the dream, he'd seen a gloriously naked Damon with his sexy body pressed hard against his. Tristan didn't think he had ever known heat as intense as he'd felt when Damon wrapped his fingers around his rigid flesh. That sexy body had covered his, pressing him into the mattress as Damon placed his hard length between...

"Fuck!" Tristan groaned as he rolled out of bed and reached for the bottle of water on his bedside table.

He couldn't go on like that, he told himself. He'd fucked every girl he could within the past two weeks but could still not get the edge off. He still ached. He wanted Damon. If there was one thing Tristan knew about himself, it was that he'd never been a coward. The best way to handle this, he concluded, was to confront the problem head-on. In this case, the problem was fucking Damon.

He planned on having a talk with him that day.

***

Damon stepped into the reception area of his office and came to an abrupt stop. What was Tristan doing there, he wondered. He hadn't even planned on coming to the office that day because he'd wanted to work from home. He'd only come to pick up some important documents.

"What do you want Tristan," Damon asked the young man who was chatting with his executive assistant.

"Oh, Damon," Lisa quipped, "Tristan said he wanted to discuss something important with you so I told him to wait as you were on your way here."

"Tristan can speak for himself, Lisa." Damon admonished lightly and then asked, "Are the documents ready?"

"They're on your desk, Boss," Lisa replied, laughing lightly. She knew Damon was not angry at her so she wasn't worried at all. Her boss was the sweetest person ever.

"Okay, thanks." Then turning towards his office, he gestured to Tristan, "Shall we?"

Damn hoped whatever the young man needed to discuss was indeed important as he claimed. The little he saw of Tristan, the better. He didn't want to complicate the relationship between their two families. But damn was he tempted.

God, he looked good, Tristan thought as ran his gaze over Damon. Tall and broad, his muscular body rippled beneath the black t-shirt he wore as he moved. His jeans hugged his lean hips, accentuating the full bulge between his thighs. Tristan realized to his shock that he wanted to cup that bulge...wanted to feel that thick cock not just against his abdomen but burrowing deep inside...

'Stop it!' He screamed at himself silently, shaking his head to rid himself of the image.

Tristan followed Damon into his plush office and chose to stand. Then without preamble, he blurted out...

"Damon, about what happ..."

"I don't want to talk about it," Damon said in a hard voice, cutting Tristan off.

"Dude, I'm..."

"Are you deaf or something?" Damon bellowed. "I said I don't want to talk about it. It was a mistake. Forget it ever happened."

Tristan felt his chest tighten. He felt a physical pain inside his chest and wondered what was happening to him. He took a deep breath. Then abruptly turned on his heels and walked out of Damon's office. If he had stood in that office a second more, he knew he'd have disgraced himself. Because for the life of him, he didn't know why he felt like crying.

And watching Tristan go, Damon slumped into his chair, feeling like an ass.