Tristan chuckled. "I'll see what I can do." He gave me a squeeze.
"Remain calm, and I'll inform the nurse of your release and my instructions for aftercare. Make sure you aren't alone for the next few days, and if you experience vomiting or blurred vision, call your primary care physician."
"I will."
He stuck out his hand. "May I never see you again, Mr. Carr." He grinned. "Good to meet you, Grant." He walked out and closed the curtain behind him.
I TEXTED Jeff as soon as we left the hospital. Tristan was quiet on the way home, and I couldn't discern whether it was from the stress of being in the emergency room for hours, from the head wound, from whatever was going on with Teresa, or from our previous argument. I pulled into the driveway, and Tristan got out before I even walked around to his side of the car. Yes, he was very self-sufficient.
I allowed him to walk through the door first, and then nearly ran into him as he stopped short just beyond the threshold. He turned sharply and said, "You moved in."
I shrugged and answered humbly, "I'm not sure how you can tell."
"That's your lamp and your afghan," he pointed out. "And the pillow with the fringe you play with every time you sit on the couch."
"I don't know how you know that when you haven't sat on the couch with me that many times. But yeah, those are mine. I didn't realize how little I had until I brought it over here. Wes helped me set up my old bed in one of the spare bedrooms. I want to buy a new couch, and I think the carpet needs to go, but-"
Tristan grabbed my face in both hands and kissed me. It took seconds for him to deepen the kiss. He moved his hands and held me securely around the back of my head while squeezing my ass with his other hand. After kissing me for a few minutes and pulling me snugly to his groin, he said, "I know it's late and we're both tired, but I need you, baby." Tristan's voice was ragged and desperate as he kissed my neck and jaw. "I need you now."
I hopped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. It was a strange maneuver, I'll admit, making me feel like a teenage girl hopping into the embrace of the captain of the football team. Tristan, however, grunted hungrily; holding me up by my ass, he headed straight for the bedroom. He dove onto the bed, pinning me underneath him as he ravaged my neck. He adeptly unbuttoned my shirt while continuing to kiss me, rocking not so subtly against my crotch.
"I missed you," he rasped, his voice heavy with lust. "Can't sleep without you." He opened my shirt, lifted my white T-shirt, and tongued my nipples. He sucked on one and then bit it-hard.
I cried out, "Ahh!"
"I'm sorry," he said, laving the spot he'd bitten and blowing on it alternately. I had to admit, I liked when he did that, although the pain I could do without.
I rubbed his smooth, bald head, and after a time Tristan stopping playing with my nipples long enough to remove both shirts. Then he nibbled on my nipples again, which made me giggle because I thought his nipple addiction was cute.
He reached down and undid my belt one-handedly after groping me through my pants. Maybe it was to make sure I was interested. Maybe it was to stimulate me. Maybe he liked feeling me harden through my clothes, as he was often in the habit of groping me like that.
"Are you sure you're allowed to have sex with a concussion?" I asked as he removed my pants and underwear.
He nodded. "As long as you don't shove me up against the wall."
I snorted with laughter. "Yeah. I can really see me doing that."
He licked from my balls to the tip of my cock, smiled, and said, "I think over time I'll be able to stir up the bad boy inside of you."
I gasped as he licked me again. "Oh yeah?" I questioned, barely able to speak when his tongue was on my dick, yet knowing what he said was truer than he realized, since I'd already come to that conclusion myself. Tristan was making me more daring and less obsessive. Or more obsessive over things he'd enjoy, and less over every little item out of order. Case in point: I was aware of how sweaty I'd been earlier in the day, and I considered suggesting a shower since he had to be sweaty from work and stuff, but then he licked me again and lapped the precome from my slit, and my brain shut off. Giving in to my baser desires had allowed me to let go of anal-retentive ones.
Tristan confirmed, "Oh, yeah. I can see you wearing a leather harness and smacking my ass with a riding crop." I would have laughed, but he grinned again and held my cock to his face so he could nuzzle it. The sensation took my breath away. I felt the stubble on his cheeks. It prickled my sensitive skin, yet his movements drove me crazy. He was rubbing my erection all over his face, his cheeks, his lips, under his chin, and back again. I pulled on the sheet, twisting it in my fist. He wasn't kidding when he'd said he liked to play. He was "playing" now, and I was seconds from begging. Yet Tristan, cool as he could be, just kept talking. "I even have a box of toys I plan to use on you, but only when you're ready."
I gasped again, unable to respond verbally as he took me entirely in and down to the root. I fisted the sheets with both hands. Toys? Oh God, I couldn't think about what that meant while he sucked my dick.
Tristan worked on me, but only briefly, pulling off and letting my cock flop back down as he sat up and removed his shirt. "Will you sit on me?"
"Sit?" I asked, because his intent wasn't registering through my lust-induced fog.
"Yeah," he said, removing his pants. "I think you're probably right about sex with a concussion, so if I'm lying down, relatively immobile, it might be better for me. My head does kinda hurt." Once naked, Tristan lay on his back with his head on the pillow. "I want you to sit on my dick."
I felt the heat of an inexplicable embarrassment flush over my face. "Oh," I said, eyeing his cock as he held it up off his stomach. "O-oh, o-okay," I stuttered nervously. This would be different for me. So far, we'd only tried a few standard positions. I rather liked missionary position, as it allowed me to kiss him, hold him, and watch his face. I was relatively passive. Tristan did the work, and I held on. Sitting on his cock would take me to a different place, a more assertive place, a place where I had to maintain the rhythm and motion. Plus, his cock was massive! I'd taken him in fully, but not without difficulty. The last time had been much easier than the first, but the thought of impaling myself on him scared me a little.
"Grant," he said with a certain intonation that told me he saw the trepidation in my eyes. "You'll be fine. Grab the lube and take it slow. It's not like you have to sit down and impale yourself in one swift motion."
I breathed a snort of relief as he read my mind.
"Tease me. Take in just a little and pull off. Do whatever you want, and however much you feel comfortable with. I'm going to pop just watching you."
I blushed and turned away. It was hard to believe that he saw me so provocatively. My body was so bland and undefined, yet every time we'd been naked together, Tristan had been so … enthusiastic. His eyes had glazed over with such lust-filled hunger that I practically came considering what he might do. Maybe it was because it was him, and because it was me, and we both wanted each other so badly, we looked past the imperfections. Although I would say he had no imperfections. His enraptured gaze on me surely made me reconsider my self-image. Maybe my naked body wasn't as unappealing as I had previously thought.
"Okay," I agreed. I grabbed a condom and the lube and coated everything liberally. Straddling his waist, I reached behind me and guided him to my clenched hole. I pushed down against him, but there was no way his wide head was going to breach my entrance. I tried again and then admitted, "I can't. It's not going to go in. You're too big."
He rubbed my thighs and grinned. "No, I'm not. I've been inside you a number of times, Grant. It'll fit, but you need to relax first. You're too tense; I can see it in your scrunched-up face as you're trying to put it in. Relax. Why don't you lean forward, and I'll help you? Then you can sit back and go with whatever rhythm you want. Okay?"
I nodded nervously. I did what he wanted and focused my energy on relaxing my asshole. Relax. Relax. Relax. Tristan propped himself up on one elbow, bent his knees, and reached under me to position his cockhead against my hole. He tilted his hips, lifting them off the bed as he pressed in before lying flat once more. Pressure. Burn. Stretch. Pain. More pain as he slid in deeper. "Ah!" I cried out, my breath fluttering as I gasped.