Chapter 5 Damon Reid vs. Tristan Thomas: An explosive encounter...mutual longing!

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Damon stopped his sleek Jaguar at the gate of his house and punched in a code. When the gate opened, he drove in and parked in front of the huge mansion.

"I never get over how huge this place is," Tristan said, getting out of the car.

"Your place is huge too," Damon chuckled.

"Yeah, but not as huge as this," Tristan stated the obvious.

Since his mum had remarried about two years earlier and gone off to live with her new husband, Damon lived alone. He did miss his mum but Luke was a very nice person and more importantly, good to his mum so he was okay with their marriage. He was not totally alone though. The household staff was always around. Much as he hated the concept of domestic help, he needed them to maintain the house. Tristan was right...it was huge.

"Hello, Damon." The driver greeted his boss as he took the keys from him. He wanted to park the car in the garage.

"Hey, Mark. All good?" Damon grinned at the man. He treated the staff as friends because he grew up with most of them. He made sure they were always okay. After all, money was no problem. But the beautiful thing was that he had their loyalty and friendship. They were his family.

"Cool man," Mark responded nodding to Tristan.

"Come on." Damon addressed Tristan.

Damon gestured towards the mini-bar when they entered the hall, "I'm going to take a quick shower. I can't stand the scent of smoke on me. Make yourself at home. We'll talk when I get back."

"That, we will." Tristan leaned lazily against the wall, his arm going around one of the pillars.

Damon chuckled and started for the stairs but stopped and turned to look at Tristan. "Are you just going to stand there?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll just...look around."

"Suit yourself," Damon said and dashed up the stairs.

Tristan wandered around looking at pictures and admiring the general architecture of the whole place. It was exquisite. But then, Matt Reid, Damon's dad, had always had great taste. The man had style. The place belonged to Damon now since it was rumored that his mother was happy on a little Island with her new husband and wanted nothing to do with the empire. She had given her son complete control over everything by a written legal undertaking. Lydia Reid had told anyone who cared to listen that she wanted to ensure that nobody would have the chance to fight her son over the empire. Talk about a doting mother, Tristan chuckled as he started up the stairs.

Upstairs was a series of hallways and closed doors, with Damon occupying the middle suite. Tristan assumed that Damon's room would be down the hallway so he started going from room to room just to admire the architecture.

He knew immediately he opened Damon's bedroom. It was so...him. And he could hear the sound of the shower from the adjoining bathroom. The light was already on so it was easy to see the room in all its glory. The room was massive with an equally massive sleigh bed covered with soft cream silky sheets, dominating the space. The rest of the furnishings were in cream and black. It was warm, masculine, and classy.

He heard the shower go off in the ensuite bathroom but before he could dash out, Damon strode into the room gloriously nude. He moved with that sleek confident grace even as he rubbed at his shower-damp hair with a towel. His firm abs and biceps flexed and rippled as his hand moved over his head.

Tristan's mouth fell open. God, Damon was gorgeous he thought as he allowed his greedy gaze to ran over the specimen of masculine beauty. When his gaze fell to Damon's cock, he gasped uncontrollably. He was huge. Tristan's mouth went dry at his sheer virility. There was something else that held Tristan's attention. Damon had a piercing at the crown of his cock. The thickness of his shaft and the silver glint of his barbell almost gave Tristan a seizure. It was...captivating. Tristan didn't even pretend not to stare at the magnificent package between Damon's legs.

His gasp had, however, without his knowledge, drawn Damon's attention to his presence. But naughty as he was, Damon had calmly watched Tristan checking him out. He'd seen the way he'd licked his lips whilst staring at his cock. That had been so erotic his cock had started hardening up. His knowing smile attested to the fact that he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on Tristan.

"Keep looking at me like that," Damon finally husked, placing his towel on a stand, "See what happens." He finished as he started toward Tristan in a riveting display of sinuous muscle, his eyes so blue and smoldered with carnal intent. He looked so hot Tristan was surprised the dampness on his skin didn't steam away.

A small sound escaped Tristan, a needy cry as he felt himself go hard with wanting. He shook his head but couldn't take his eyes off the glistening, mushroom-shaped head of Damon's cock with its piercing.

"Damon," Tristan breathed as Damon's hands caught him by the hips. His lips parted just as Damon crashed his lips on his. They were both hard. Tristan's erection strained against his jeans, begging to be freed. The kiss was lush and deep which left Tristan trembling and wanting more.

"When I get you beneath me, I'm going to devour you," Damon told him harshly as he wrapped Tristan's fingers around the girth of his pulsing length. They had no hope of circling it fully. His groan was throttled, a sound of agonizing pleasure. "Every inch of your body, Tristan, I'll make it burn for me."

Tristan was breathing roughly now. The connection was startlingly intense. He was going out of his mind with need.

"I'm hard and aching for you, Damon. I already burn," he admitted with slumberous sensuality. But his next words stopped Damon. "But I don't know what this means. I don't know what is happening to me, Damon."

Damon's fingers threaded through Tristan's hair, tilting his head back. His head lowered slowly as he stared down at the younger man, watching his eyes dilate and his skin flush with arousal.

"Fuck!" Damon swore. Tristan looked aroused but confused. He needed to come to terms with how he was feeling before he could take anything further.

"When I let you go," Damon allowed the growl building in his chest to echo in his words, "if I were you, I would turn that sweet ass around and hightail it back out of this room. If you hesitate, even for a second, if you so much as breathe a hesitation, I'm going to fuck you so hard and so deep against this door you'll never be able to hide your screams of pleasure from all the people in this house. Do I make myself clear, Tristan?"

Instead of responding, Tristan buried his face in Damon's neck and held him tightly in place.

"You feel so good." He whispered, stroking Damon from base to tip and circling the tip with his thumb.

"Tris..." Damon groaned. His control was a fragile thing right then. The only thing stilling the hunger to fuck Tristan that instant was the fact that he knew it was important they talk. Damon knew that if he lost control and did anything, it would create problems later.

"I want you." Tristan moaned making Damon groan even louder.

"Tell you what," Damon said holding Tristan at arm's length, "Go take a cold shower first, then we will have that talk, okay? The bathroom's in there."

"Shower with me," Tristan murmured, running his hand down Damon's arm.

"Dude, I just got out of one." Damon laughed. "I'll be downstairs. Leave your stuff in the laundry basket in there. I'll leave something for you on the bed. Go on."

"Spoilsport," Tristan muttered drawing a chuckle from Damon. With a sigh, he started for the bathroom knowing that a shower would do him a lot of good.

Damon watched him disappear into the bathroom with an amused shake of his head. How had he and Tristan even gotten to this level that fast he wondered as the sound of the shower hit his ears. He blamed that elevator ride and Tristan's sexy self.

What the fuck was he going to do with him?