Page 5 of Fire & Ice

Sure. Whatever.

To be fair, it wasLeewho brought up the idea of changing things between them, and only after he definitively ended things with saidfuck buddy. Tripp isn’t privy to the details of exactly what happened in that fallout, and he doesn’t intend to ask. All he knows is that the chick, Autumn, wanted more emotionally than Leander was prepared to give.

Truthfully, the way Lee talked about her—the way he talks about romance and romantic relationships in general, actually—was alwayscold, and it made Tripp’s heart sink every time. Not that he thought he had a shot to begin with, but it was still tough to hear reality stated so bluntly, so plain. Bottom line, Lee doesn’t do romance, and that’s fine.

Thing is, though, Tripp does. He’s a damn romantic at heart, actually. Whether headmitsthat truth out loud to other people is neither here nor there, but being open about hisfeelings and being self-aware are twoverydifferent concepts. Tripp is unquestionably one but not the other.

For that reason alone, he’s still not sure whether taking Lee up on the offer to lethimfill the “subby fuck buddy” space at Lee's relationship table is the brightest idea. Sure, Lee has a point. They both could use the outlet. Stressful jobs and all, unprocessed trauma, and Lee isn’t used to lacking someone he can turn to in that way. He actually told Tripp that he was feeling a little “lost and ungrounded” in his life since breaking things off with Autumn, and what the hell was Tripp supposed to do with that? He can’t very well have his best friend feelingungrounded,not when there’s somethingincrediblysimple that he could do about it.

Getting fucked by six feet of gorgeous hard muscle, pouty full lips, and magnetic blue eyes isn’t exactly a hardship in Tripp’s book, anyway.

So when Leander raised the possibility of trying it out, in the magic of the midnight hour, both of them tipsy and goofy from one too many frozen margaritas, yes, he jumped. Jumped on it so fast that Leander seemed surprised, and wasn’tthatembarrassing? At the end of the day, though, this isLee,and Tripp can’t help what he wants.

Pretty much from the day they met, Lee has been it for him, reciprocation be damned. Tripp would wait forever if he thought that would matter, would let Lee set whatever boundaries he needed, would accepthalfof Lee, or an eighth, because just being around the weird, nerdy,freakyconfident paramedic makes him fuckin’ happy. Happy in a way that nothing else has come close to reaching in years.

Maybe that’s pathetic, but Tripp’s accepted the situation for what it is. If this submissive thing is what he can get, if this isthe most Lee is willing and able togive,Tripp will take it. He’ll take it gladly and gratefully, and be damn thankful for it.

All’s said and done, he’s got a best friend who he can close down bars and shoot pool and drink beers and watch cowboy movies with, who can practically read his mind on emergency scenes, and who Tripp would trust with his very life. If they can add occasionally fucking—and maybe some other extra-dirty stuff, details of which he isn’t overtly clear on yet—to the way they define their friendship, then that’ll be a bonus.

Tripp can be content with that. He can. It’s enough.

By the time he reaches Leander’s soaring apartment highrise, Tripp is once again feeling calm and sure of his choices. He flashes back on the conversation he and Lee shared the night before: the “kinks” list they pored over in excruciating detail, the safewords they picked, and the hard limits they set. Leander wasveryserious, ultra-methodical, and Tripp was both surprised and turned on by it, as much if not more than the teasing version of Lee he saw at the hospital today.

During that conversation, Tripp vocalized his suspicion that Lee would be a professional, career Dominant-for-Hire if he could, but his friend denied that, at first. When pressed, though, Lee admitted that he’s held back from attempting such a thing based on his own inability to work with strangers.

“I need an emotional connection with someone in order to develop an interest in dominating them,” Leander explained breezily, as if he was speaking about the way he takes his coffee. The pen he was using to mark up their contracts tipped and twirled between the lithe, thick fingers of his right hand, the only outward sign that he was nervous at all.

“Really? You couldn’t just—”

“Icould, yes, but it wouldn’t be satisfying for me. I know that must seem strange, seeing as how it was my lack of romantic feelings for Autumn that prompted me to move on. I assure you though, Tripp, an emotional connection does not automatically translate to romance. Or love, for that matter.”

That explanation made sense enough to Tripp, and it certainly helped explain why Leander would be interested inhim,specifically.An “emotional connection” is definitely something the two of them have always shared—they just clicked, day one, right off the bat. Besides his own brother, Leander is far and away the best friend Tripp has ever had, no contest.

So cognitively, the whole thing tracks. Knowing more about Lee’s needs, and equally, that Lee is very aware of Tripp’s own stress and wants to help him,as a friend, it’s reassuring. Those things allow Tripp to set certain boundaries in his own mind, to manage his expectations. This is an arrangement. A mutually beneficial,stress-relievingarrangement, between two otherwise platonic friends, and nothing more.

Tripp is fine with that.

If he wants this, then he has to be.

Tripp parks in the lot. He locks his car and strolls up the concrete sidewalk outside of Leander’s building. Nodding a greeting to the doorman, he heads over to the elevator bank, enters the first open car, and presses the button for Lee's floor. As he does, it suddenly occurs to him that he wants thisverybadly.

Not just the sex and the opportunity for an excuse to be close to Leander, but the submissive aspect, too, even if—and despite the long-ass kinks list—he isn’texactlysure of what he’s getting into. A new shiver of excitement ripples down hisspine. It raises the hairs on his arms, even underneath the long-sleeved tee he’s wearing and his heavy leather jacket.

Tripp watches as the glowing numbers cycle higher, anticipation rising along with the interest in his pants. Scowling, he glares down at his slightly-swollen groin and wills his dick to behave—the last thing he wants to do is appear over-eager or desperate. This is brand new territory for both of them and Tripp would never forgive himself for scaring Lee off by barging into his apartment with his traitorous dick already trying to run the show.

The idea of Leander rejecting him takes care of that issue like gangbusters, and by the time he’s knocking on the guy’s front door, Tripp’s not entirely sure he could get it up if he wanted to. His nerves are flying back to hit him full force, heart pounding away in his chest like a drum. Is Lee going to open the door dressed head-to-toe in leather, maybe carrying a whip? Is he going to yank Tripp violently inside, shove him down to his knees and piss down his throat?

Ridiculous. The last sane brain cell Tripp possesses—thankfully—shows up to chastise him. First of all, he reminds himself, ‘Watersports’ is on both of your hard limit lists. Second, this is still Lee.

Despite that, when the door opens and Lee is there, dressed in soft, gray sweatpants paired with a navy blue t-shirt that has the City’s EMS logo on the breast, Tripp can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. He’s right, itisstill Lee,his best friend in the whole damn world, and seeing him look so casually comfortable whilealsoknowing what they’re about to do makes Tripp want him more than ever.

“Hello, Tripp,” Leander says warmly, stepping back to hold the door open as he enters. It’s strange, because Tripp’s been in Lee's space hundreds of times—passed out on the couch,next to the toilet, and even in Lee'sbedmore nights than he can count—but tonight, it feels new and different. In a good way, one that makes his fingers and toes tingle, but new all the same.

Looking around, Tripp cognitively understands that there’s no reason for him to feel that way—he was here twenty-four hours ago and it’s unchanged. Hell, there’s an empty beer bottle with his DNA on it still sitting on a side table. Tripp wanders further in, the entryway bleeding into an open-plan family room with a step-up kitchen to the right and three closed doors across the way. From experience, Tripp knows that they lead to two bedrooms and the generous bathroom connecting them, all spaces he’s extremely familiar with, except for one.

Also from experience, Tripp knows that the door on the left is Lee's bedroom, and the one on the right is their destination tonight.

“Tripp,” Leander says softly, his hand on Tripp’s forearm making him flinch and pull away. Even though it’s a reflex, Tripp can see the hurt on Leander’s face, no matter how quickly he schools it away. “We don’t have to do this,” Leander reassures him. “There’s no pressure here. We could just have a beer, watch some TV.”

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