Page 54 of Fire & Ice

“Hey,” Leander calls after her as she starts to walk away. “You forgot your drink.”

Marley throws him a wink and a cocky finger gun. “I don’t drink, remember? But I know someone who does, and I think you owe him an apology.” With that, Marley saunters away, back to the splintered group from their party hanging out by the stage. They’re chatting and spilling drinks, preparing to throw some bills, and Leander clocks Christian and Brett sitting among them, feeling secretly glad that they’re nowhere near Tripp.

After shooting a glance in Tripp’s direction and finding him very guardedly sitting with his arms folded, legs crossed, blatantlynotlooking his way, Leander sighs and picks up the two glasses. With absolutely no intention of apologizing—for this or anything else he’s going to rain down on Tripp’s head tonight—he makes his way over and slides into the booth next to his friend, where Tripp has relocated from his former chair. Leander supposes that it’s probably easier to hide any discomfort, sunk back into the bench seat the way that he is.

Across the table, Bri and Beau are making out enthusiastically, groping at each other in a more graphic manner than Leander’s ever seen from either normally-reserved person in public.

Good for them,he thinks, a small smile tugging up the corner of his lips. Without a word, Leander slides Tripp’s drink in front of him and then slips a hand beneath the table to squeeze his thigh. Still pouting, Tripp leans forward and drinks half of the concoction in one go, unable to resist letting a pleased little noise slip from his throat. It’s terribly, painfully endearing.

“Hey Leeee,” Beau slurs, finally surfacing from Bri's embrace and taking notice of the new arrival at the table. “Havin’ fun?”

“Yes. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this drunk,” Leander points out good-naturedly, as an equally intoxicated Briana drops her head to Beau's shoulder. After beaming happily at Leander, she then switches to sloppily draining some water from a random glass on the table, before ultimately returning to mouthing at Beau's neck. Tripp wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“I need to piss,” he announces loudly, shoving at Leander’s shoulder in an effort to get him to move out of the seat. It’s not the need, but the way he goes about it that has Leander swearing internally he’ll make the man pay. He growls quietly in warning, even as he stands, but Tripp’s only response is to nearly fall over him in his haste to escape the booth. Lee's hand drifts across his ass as he goes, mostly accidental, the low key vibrations only noticeable because he’s checking.

As Leander sits back down, his eyes never leave Tripp’s retreating form—watching, waiting for a sign, and—there.Right before he disappears inside the unisex restroom, Tripp glances back over his shoulder, making pointed eye contact that absolutely cannot be mistaken for anything other than what it is.

An invitation.The implications of that look, thatoffer,steal Leander’s entire brain capacity, and only after Beau has said his name several times does Leander even realize anyone was talking. With reluctance, he tears his eyes away from the still-closing bathroom door, redirecting his attention to the pair of tipsy lovebirds openly laughing at him.

“Wow,” Bri remarks, lolling against Beau's side as she waves her index finger vaguely in Leander’s direction. “You…you’re...” She trails off and squints, tipping her head up and slapping Beau's cheek gently. “What is he, again?”

“I’unno,” Beau slurs back. “A dumbass, just like my brother.” He laughs, loudly, and then smacks the table hard, rattling the glasses. “Lee, don’ hate me for telling you the truth, alright?”

“Never, Beau,” Leander replies automatically, sipping at Tripp’s abandoned drink, since he’s already emptied his own. His brain is starting to turn extremely fuzzy, so it’s probably time to slow down, but a few more swallows of what seems to be mostly sugar won’t hurt.

“Tripp…” Beau slurs. “He issogone on you. And you,” Beau says more firmly, sitting up in a way that causes Bri to fall over and planting his elbow on the table so he can jab an accusatory finger across it. “You’re not any better.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Leander replies noncommittally, still stirring at his drink.

“Well, aren’t you going to go after him?” Bri pipes up, smiling knowingly, and Leander glances over at her, surprised.

“Oh, just go,” Beau chimes in, waving Leander off and turning back into his bride-to-be’s embrace to continue making out. Pretty soon after, Leander might as well be sewn into the vinyl of the booth, for all the attention he’s being paid. He squints at the still-closed bathroom door, chews his lip for a moment, and then makes a break for it.

Leander barely has a foot through the narrow opening when his shirt is grabbed and he’s yanked the rest of the way inside, Tripp’s hand in his hair and a tongue down his throat. Making a surprised noise, Leander reacts immediately, ripping Tripp away and slapping him across the face before shoving him up against the wall from behind. With a hand twisted in the hair at the crown of Tripp’s head and the other pinning the handTripp was using to grope his crotch to the door, Leander uses the length of his body to keep a struggling Tripp still.

“You really think you call the shots, don’t you?”

Tripp doesn’t respond, just wiggles valiantly beneath him, and that ass moving against his groin isn’t doing anything to slow things down. “I know what you’re doing,” Leander continues, dropping Tripp’s wrist in favor of yanking his jeans to his thighs, keeping his own shoulders pressed against Tripp’s so that he’s still effectively trapped.

“Teasing me, trying to make me jealous, now baiting me into fucking you. Fine,” Leander snaps, yanking Tripp away from the door by his hair, pants low enough to make the move awkward. Predictably, he stumbles, and Leander is there to catch, recalibrating them both in front of the sink and the mirror above it.

Tripp is beautifully messy in his reflection, pupils dilated from both the alcohol and arousal, hair destroyed, cheeks pink and lips parted—Leander couldn’t say no to him if he tried.

“I’ll give you what you want,andI’ll make you regret it.”

The skin peeking out from beneath green lace is still slightly pink, and Leander kneads both of Tripp’s cheeks greedily before tugging the fabric to one side. After that, he doesn’t mess around. Leander unzips his pants, pulls his cock out over his boxer briefs and then removes Tripp’s plug, holding it in his hand.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself,” he murmurs. “Or you won’t be coming at all tonight.”

In his drunken state, Leander’s a little unsteady, and it takes him two tries to line himself up and push inside. Tripp doesn’t seem to notice or care, rocking on his heels and whimpering with need. His rim is wonderfully slick and relaxedwhen Leander nudges at it, allowing him to sink inside easily, sliding until his hips are flush with Tripp’s gorgeous ass.

With his free hand, he wraps fingers around Tripp’s neck from behind, forcing the man to keep his head up and to look himself in the eyes as Leander fucks him, slow and deep. “Don’t bait me, Tripp,” he warns, tightening his fingers just enough to make Tripp’s eyes go wide and his lips part, before relaxing them again. “Tell me, who do you belong to?”

Tripp works to catch his breath, moaning as Leander punches out a particularly emphatic thrust against his prostate, but Leander only leans in, plastering their bodies together from shoulder to thigh and nipping at Tripp’s ear.

“Who do you belong to, Tripp? Whose ass is this?” He removes his hand from Tripp’s throat forjustlong enough to give said ass a little spank. Not fighting the visceral urge to expose his sub further, Leander grabs at the bottom hem of his shirt and pulls it upward, shoving the material through the opening around his tanned, collarless—but not ownerless—neck. He likes the way it looks, Tripp's body on display, the fabric bunched at his nape.

“Tell me, Tripp!”

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