Fiery Heat

***

Damon stood in the foyer of the Thomas Mansion and stared at the spectacle before him. Tristan Thomas, Caleb Thomas' son, not only had his tongue down the throat of a curvy young lady but had his hand under her blouse as well, obviously feeling up her tits. At that time of the day? Seriously?

The girl moaned loudly and then suddenly tried to push Tristan away when she caught sight of Damon.

"There's someone here T.T." She managed to get out breathlessly.

Tristan cursed and turned around to see who it was, pulling his hand from under Amber's blouse.

"Damon Reid," Tristan said with a sneer in his voice. "What do you want?" he looked irritated at the interruption. His dislike for Damon was obvious from his body language.

And why the hell not, Tristan asked himself. Damon thought he was a god. Handsome, rich, intelligent...you name it. The reason Tristan disliked him so much was that his own father never failed to throw Damon's accomplishments in his face.

'Why can't you be more like Damon? He's responsible, reliable, he's got a head for business, any father will be proud of him...'

Yeah, yeah, yeah...too bad Damon's own father was dead so couldn't be proud of him. Tristan knew he was being mean but there was so much he could take. Heck, he was only twenty-one. And how old was Damon? Twenty-fucking-six. He didn't think Damon wasn't that responsible five years earlier. He had to grow up when his father died as he had to take over the running of their empire. Who else was there to do that but him? He was an only child after all so had no choice but to grow up...right? Triston, therefore, didn't think it was fair for his father to not only keep throwing Damon's accomplishments in his face but also expect him to act like Damon-fucking-Reid. He just finished college for fuck's sake. It was time to have some fun.

"We need to talk, Tristan," Damon said in that sexy baritone of his, making Tristan even angrier.

Did the guy have any flaws, Tristan fumed. And why did he always call him Tristan instead of T.T. like everyone did? "So talk." Tristan all but growled.

Damon turned to look pointedly at the lady standing beside Tristan staring at him as though she was going to eat him up any second.

"Amber, go wait in the car will you?" Tristan told the flustered-looking girl.

He knew she was all gaga over the hunk standing in front of them. She was gaping like an utter idiot. Girls! But then Damon was known to have that effect on ladies. He was very tall, about six 'two, broad, and bursting with muscles. His dark blond hair had been cut very short, exposing the strong column of his sun-kissed neck. One of Tristan's own sisters had once said Damon's deep, powerful voice alone was orgasm-inducing. And that face, even he would admit, was good on the eye.

"So... What does my father want?" Tristan asked, knowing very well that Damon was there on the instructions of his father.

His father and Damon wanted to enter into some sort of business partnership and his Dad had told him the day before that he wanted him to handle it. He had promptly told him he wasn't interested but his dad had cut him off saying Damon was going to get in touch with him. Now there he was. Just great!

"I presume he told you about Albatros," Damon stated, looking intently at Tristan with eyes so blue Tristan couldn't help but admire.

"Is that what you guys are calling your business venture? Well, he did mention something...not Albatros. And I remember telling him I wasn't interested. So this meeting is not necessary is it?" Tristan retorted.

"Look here, Tristan..."

"No, you look here. If you think you can just walk in here and expect me to leave whatever I'm doing and concentrate on some business with you, you have another thing coming," Tristan said heatedly.

"Oh, so that's what this is all about huh?" Damon chuckled.

"What is what about?" Tristan asked with a frown.

"You are pissed off because I interrupted your little..." Damon waved his hands in the direction of the car in which Amber had gone to wait.

"You've got no ri..."

"Oh, but I do Tristan. When are you going to grow up huh? Do you think the world is always going to be at your feet? Because Daddy will always be around to see to your needs? Let me tell you something boy, that's not how it works. So you..."

Had Damon just called him 'boy', Tristan's eyebrow raised with incredulity. It was on!

"Oh, and how did you know this? When Daddy dearest died on you? Is the mighty Damon wanting his daddy back? To tell him bedtime stories?"

The muscles in Damon's jaw tightened and contracted. Tristan could tell he was struggling to control his emotions and immediately knew he had gone too far.

"Look, I'm sorry dude. I didn't mean it like that." He tried to apologize.

"Yes, you did," Damon said in a deceptively calm voice. Abruptly, he turned to go. "Seven p.m. In your father's office this evening. Don't be late." Damon threw over his shoulder and was gone.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Tristan muttered to himself. Why couldn't he shut his big mouth? What he had said was downright cruel. In a way, because of that, he knew he had to meet Damon as he had requested. He was feeling downright guilty.

Dammit!

***

As Damon got into his sleek black Jaguar XF and sped off, he was fuming. He literally had to hold himself back or he would have sucker-punched that brat in his own home. What the fuck was wrong with Tristan? Now he understood what Caleb, the boy's dad had been talking about. He had told him he didn't know how to get his son to take up that responsibility for Albatros. But he was trusting Damon to get him to do it. He had assured Caleb he was going to get Tristan to do it but it looked like he had bitten more than he could chew.

Tristan was one spoilt brat. His parents had spoilt him so much so that they didn't know what to do to get him to be a responsible boy. Born after three girls and an only boy, the whole family doted on him...treated him like an egg. The annoying part was that Tristan was a brilliant boy. He had actually graduated at the top of his class. It looked like naturally, the kid had a high IQ because he didn't strike Damon as the type of person who would go out of his way to study. He just had the brains but probably thought all he had to do was study and spend daddy's money.

Oh, and did he know how to spend the money. With his good looks, he could have any girl he wanted. Tristan was about 5'8' tall with his dreamy green eyes, blond hair which was always tapered on the back with side-swept bangs which seem to fall in his eyes all the time. Tristan Thomas was a handsome, intelligent spoilt brat Damon sighed. Yes, to him, Tristan was devastatingly handsome. He had always thought so. Not that he fancied him or anything. He had never looked at him in that light before. The boy was just a kid. At least that was what he'd thought until he'd seen him that day. He was all grown up and boy was he hot.

Damon's penchant for dating both men and women was known by those close to him. Tristan was way out of his league though. In fact, he couldn't stand the boy. But he had promised his dad who was a good friend of his late father so he planned on getting the boy to take up some responsibility. Damon really hoped Tristan drugged his stubborn arse to Caleb's office as he had told him to because he didn't want to see the hope die in the older man's eyes.

***

When Tristan stepped into the elevator in his father's office building at six o'clock that evening, it was with the intention of having a serious talk with his dad about his disinterest in his project before Damon the Mighty showed up. The last person he expected to see inside the elevator was its blue-eyed lone occupant. Blue eyes clashed with his green ones.

"Damon." Tristan greeted curtly.

"Tristan." Damon's answer was equally curt.

The doors closed and the elevator began its ascent. Neither man said anything. Tristan noticed that Damon was still in his jacket but this time, there was no tie. Standing there with his jacket open and his hands shoved casually into his pants pockets, he looked relaxed but so in control. Why was he there that early anyway, Tristan wondered. The meeting was supposed to be at seven p.m. He was just about to ask Damon when he heard the noise...then the movement of the elevator ceased. They were plunged into total darkness.

"The fuck..." Damon growled.

"Oh my god," Tristan groaned. "I th...think there...there's a problem." He stuttered sounding like he was being strangled.

"Let's hope they sort it out soon enough. Just what I need," Damon muttered.

All that could be heard in the elevator was their breathing. They waited. Then Damon heard it. A tiny sound...as if someone was sobbing.

"Tristan?" he called.

Nothing.

"Come on, talk to me, man. Are you okay?"

But all he could hear were muffled sounds coming from Tristan. Then it just hit him...Tristan probably had a phobia of darkness.

"Tristan, are you Nyctophobic? Talk to me." Damon sounded concerned.

But Tristan still wouldn't say anything. Damon took out his phone, hoping to use its flashlight application for the first time. Unfortunately, his battery was down to one bar. Shit!

"Give me your phone, Tristan," Damon demanded of the man who he could see from the little light emanating from his phone was huddled in a corner of the elevator.

"I didn't bring it." He sniffled.

Didn't bring it? Who the fuck went around without their cell phone, Damon shook his head. He shrugged off his jacket and put it on the floor. Then he went to Tristan.

"Come here." Damon reached for Tristan's hand and pulled him up. Then he drew him into his arms.

Tristan clung to Damon and buried his face in the crook of his neck. He was trembling and Damon felt it. He rubbed Tristan on the back gently, whispering soothingly into his ears the entire time.

"Shhh... I've got you. You'll be fine."

After a while, the trembling stopped and Tristan began to feel embarrassed. He would have pushed out of Damon's arms but he felt so safe he stayed. Then to his horror, he started feeling other things as well. He felt Damon's warmth, his tight body, the caress of his breath on his neck, the heady scent of his cologne... Tristan began to tingle all over. When he felt himself getting aroused, he stifled his groan. Tristan wasn't amused.

Shit!

Tristan began to get hard to his shock. Each stroke of Damon's hand over his back made him harder. He held his breath, shifting so that his lower half wouldn't press against Damon. He knew that his hard-on would be a dead giveaway of how he was feeling and it would be very embarrassing.

"I need to move." Tristan croaked as he tried to move away.

But all that Damon heard was the unsteady nature of Tristan's voice, an indication that he wasn't okay. He rather tightened his arms around him.

"Stay." Damon's voice had gone very husky. He knew why. With the way Tristan was feeling all sleek and hot against him, there was no surprise there. But he was genuinely concerned about the boy.

Tristan's heart pounded as he felt his control slipping. He held his breath, cursing his traitorous body as his cock pulsed and throbbed. When he felt Damon's lips on his neck, he couldn't help the moan that tore out of his throat. He wondered what would happen if the man actually kissed him. A real kiss. Even as Tristan wondered, his head turned and tilted up, his curious lips meeting Damon's. The need that burst within Tristan from that contact made his heart race even faster.

"Stop that," Damon growled, tearing his mouth away and in the process, rubbing his erection against Tristan's. "Oh, shit" His hot breath singed Tristan's cheeks.

Tristan didn't miss the arousal in Damon's voice. He reacted without a thought. He sought out Damon's lips and took it with a passion that shocked even him. Silent screams of protest and fear ricocheted through his mind but his aroused body ignored every wailing demand that he stop. His tongue swept into Damon's mouth, a cooling relief against the fiery ache of his.

Damon moved a hand from around Tristan's waist and sunk it into his hair. Then he completely took over the kiss. And damn did he kiss Tristan! An electric longing jolted through Tristan's body, making his toes curl inside his boots. He was lost.

They both moaned, reeling under the intense heat. They were both fighting for breath within minutes. Bodies strained to get closer, the air heating with a primitive lust that Damon had no idea how to fight. He shoved a thigh between Tristan's thighs, feeling the hard length that strained against Tristan's zipper. Tristan rode that thigh, moaning and shaking as he lost himself in delicious sensations. He curled his tongue around Damon's and sucked hard as need overwhelmed him. He felt that delicious climb and knew he was going to come. He didn't fight it. Just as he tumbled over the edge, he tore his mouth from the kiss and threw his head back in blissful abandon.

"Fuck!" Tristan gasped and shook as he came hard!

Damon latched onto that sensitive spot between Tristan's neck and shoulder and sucked hard, prolonging his ecstasy. He held him throughout his orgasm, felt the tremors that shook his lithe frame, and thought Tristan was sexy as fuck. After that intense climax, Tristan went completely lax against Damon. The only thing holding him up was Damon's strong arms around him.

"Oh, god." Tristan groaned breathlessly.

"Are you okay?" Damon chuckled, but Tristan didn't miss the strain in his voice and the fact that he was very hard against him.

"That was...I've never felt anything like that before." Tristan breathed. "You didn't..."

"I'm okay." Damon quickly assured him. He had gone far enough as it was. He should have known better than to allow something like that to happen.

As if on cue, the light suddenly came back on and the elevator started moving. Tristan moved away from Damon, his face on fire and his hands shaking badly. What the hell had just happened, he groaned. Did that make him gay? Was Damon gay? Tristan was totally confused. He turned to look at Damon and saw him fully composed, shrugging into his jacket.

"Damon..."

"Let it go, Tristan," Damon said gruffly just as the elevator opened on Caleb's floor.

Then without a glance in Tristan's direction, he strode out of the elevator, leaving a confused Tristan behind.

***

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.