Page 105 of Fire & Ice

“That was great,” Tripp proclaims, around a very obnoxious yawn. “You feel amazing as fuck, Lee. But listen—no switching it up when we go to the club, deal? That night, you’re fucking me. You doing me in a room full of people is like, maybe the hottest fantasy I’ve ever had.”

“Fair enough,” Leander agrees with a nod. “You know that in order to go to the club, you’ll have to be able to stay awake for more than five minutes post-orgasm?”

“Shuup,” Tripp mumbles into Leander’s skin, nearly out.

It’s perfect,Leander thinks, as he looks around his darkened bedroom and really lets himself feel the weight, thepresenceof Trippinit with him for the first time.

He’s home.

Chapter 13

Six Months Later

Tripp is itchy. Anxious in his own skin, unsettled, probably close to jittering right off the edge of the playroom bed if Leander wasn’t standing, you know, right there, looking down at him with narrowed eyes.

“We can postpone,” he suggests, and Tripp shakes his head vehemently.

“No way,” he replies quickly, breath coming out in a rush. “No. Worked too hard for this, waited too long. I’m not—” He grimaces, hand dropping to his left thigh, where the ghosts of nerve pain still bother him occasionally. The flash he’s having right now is there and gone—if it had been a strike from Leander’s hand, Tripp would have called it a tease. As it is, he’s just going to call it annoying. Lee looks worried, but before he can so much as open his mouth to react, Tripp holds up his other hand, still massaging with the left.

“I’m fine, it’s not really pain, Lee. Just angry nerves.”

If Leander looked any more skeptical, his eyes would be closed. “Our appointment isn’t static. If you’re having a bad day, we shouldn’t—”

“There’s noweabout this, Lee!” Tripp explodes and then immediately regrets it when the hand Leander has stretched out towards him retracts and gets cradled defensively against his boyfriend’s chest. “Shit,” Tripp mutters, scrubbing his palm across his face before collapsing back onto the bed, leaving his legs dangling over the side. “You know I didn’t mean that. It’s just, babe—all the work I’ve done? Tonight is a big fuckin’ win for me.”

From somewhere above him, Leander’s voice sounds calm and unaffected. That shouldn’t be a surprise, Leander’s more than used to dealing with Tripp’s frequent tetchiness and mood swings when it comes to his injuries and rollercoaster recovery. For whatever reason, Leander somehow manages to not ever take his bullshit personally, even when Tripp’s mad enough to wish he would.

Lee is a damn saint.

He’s also annoying as fuck, especially when he’s seeing straight through Tripp’s hedging and shitty attempts to wall himself off. Or when Tripp’s covering for being stupid under the guise of being brave.

“Tripp, I know that you view this as some sort of mile marker you have to pass in order to not fail. But as I’ve told you before, your goals are yours to set. The mile marker can be moved.”

Tripp snorts. “That’s a terrible analogy, who taught you that? You can’t move mile markers, Lee. If you did, then they wouldn’t, you know, mark the miles.” The sting of Lee's belt snapping as it makes contact with Tripp’s jean-clad thigh has him yelping and jerking on the bed, but also breaking out into a huge smile. Even a month ago, Lee wouldn’t have dared mess with him so casually, anddefinitelynot with pain.

They’ve both come a long way since then. Tripp with his physical rehab, and Lee with learning to let go and to trust that Tripp knows his own limits.

Initially, Lee's reservations were understandable, even if Tripp didn’t like them. Causing intentional, recreational pain while he was still taking narcotics to manage his injuries just seemed like a really terrible idea and a recipe for disaster. And Tripp could even comprehend his reluctance as a Dom beyondthat—his uneasiness with any kind of hardcore scening at all. After watching him suffer for so long, Leander had difficulty accepting thatpainwas something Tripp could still enjoy, had an even worse time accepting that it was somethinghecould still administer without guilt (or traumatic flashbacks of his own, probably).

In the end, Tripp had to take a pretty hands-on approach towards guiding their relationship in the playroom, at least for a while. Not that they switched, per se, but Tripp insisted on a much more active role in planning scenes and staying alert during them. It was a bit of a reversal that neither of them ever saw coming, but looking back, Tripp feels like it’s been good for them.

During that time, Leander really needed the validation, and Tripp needed the power. If he hadn’t taken the bull by the horns, so to speak, Tripp doubts they would have been able to get back to the place they’re in today. It didn’t hurt his own self-confidence or his desire to take back some of the autonomy that relying on Leander for his day to day needs had snatched away, either.

History aside, the quick flash of—welcomed—pain across his thighs has Tripp near-giggling, relieved that Lee isn’t going to try and turn his concerns into a genuine attempt to dissuade him from going out. Support is one thing, but Tripp’s not being reckless—he’sthis closeto being cleared for a full return to work, and he’ll be damned if he puts himself in any kind of position to mess that up. He’s ready, and he wouldn't say so if that wasn’t the case.

“One last thing, and I’ll be quiet about it,” Leander says, and Tripp raises an arm in the air, waving it around like,proceed, your Majesty—God knows Lee is going to, anyway.“Wecouldsimply visit, or mingle. Spend time in the middle room with less pressure on you to perform.”

“Dude, no,” Tripp snaps, slightly less heated this time as he pops back up to a sitting position and gawks at Leander in disbelief. “No. Listen, buddy, you dragged me to that brunch mixer, we did the whole meet-and-greet, took the tour, did the voyeur thing—you knowfull wellhow much I thought it sucked having to watch from the front row while other people got to do the fun stuff.”

Several paces away, Leander’s just staring back at him blankly, pulling the leather belt through his hands like he can’t figure out whether to thread it through his pants or whip it at Tripp again. “I thought that you enjoyed yourself at the Munch. You certainly enjoyed the snacks, and I don’t recall any complaining when I blew you in the parking lot after—”

“Dude,” Tripp protests, spreading his hands. “Totally missing the point. Also, you didn’t let me come.”

Leander smirks. “I did. Eventually.”

“Yeah, well, I want this, Lee. Come on, don’t taint this for me. I can’t—” Tripp blows out a sigh of frustration and messes up his hair with his fingers, dropping his head. “This is about me,” he tells his knees, “and it’sforme, but I’m not gonna do it if you’re not all the way on board. Or if I have to convince you that I’m ready. We ain’t goin’ into it like that.” Tripp chances a glance up, but his Dom hasn’t moved.

Raising his eyebrows, Leander steps to Tripp’s side and straddles his legs, settling in his lap. The position is slightly awkward—Lee is six feet of muscle and Tripp’s ass isn’t fully on the bed, but knowing Lee, that’s probably the point. As such, Tripp tenses his muscles and holds on, managing to balance Lee's weight fairly easily. Just to make his own point, Trippleans up to catch Lee's mouth, distracting him with kisses before bracing himself and flipping them both over onto the mattress.

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