Trapped

Chapter 1-2

Tristan turned his head to one side to watch his lover undress. Lover. What a joke. His lover was the man that he paid to be attentive, loving, but hard. Henri was so beautiful it hurt to look at him. Over six feet in height and with broad, manly shoulders he was magnificent. Long, dark wavy hair curled about his head and looked as though it needed the attention of a barber. It made him look gloriously debauched. Added to that were his eyes of a clear, almost crystalline, greenish-grey hue that seemed to see everything. It made him nigh on irresistible.

The man stood now, carefully removing his clothes so that Tristan could crawl onto him and be held. The two things that brought Tristan back time after time was the man’s powerful body that at once could overwhelm him, pin him to the bed, and bring unutterable pleasure, but then could hold him as though he were precious. Sometimes they just lay there in the flickering candlelight, sometimes they talked. It felt for that short time as though someone actually gave a damn about him. As though he were loved. Tristan hated that he needed both things, but not enough to stop him coming back for more. Not ever enough.

Tristan rolled to the side and took one of the cloths by the side of the bed to clean himself. When he had done, he looked up to find Henri naked. His stomach was taught and his thighs hard with well-defined muscle. His c**k was still half hard even after the pounding he had given him. Tristan allowed his eyes to linger there. Henri walked to the bed and climbed on so Tristan moved to give him room to lie beside him, but then stopped.

“Wait.” He sat up and grasped the man’s shoulder.

“It’s nothing, please.”

Tristan was staring in horror at Henri’s back. It was covered in bruises. Long red welts that looked as though they had been laid there by a cane.

“What happened? Who did this to you?” Tristan ran his hand gently over the marks, but he flinched so he stopped.

“I swear it’s nothing.” He laid back and opened up his arms, but as much as Tristan wanted nothing more than to lie on him, to rub his face in the soft hair that filled the gap between those dark n*****s, he couldn’t think of adding his bodyweight and pressing on the bruises. Instead, he lay beside him.

Henri looked puzzled. “Would you prefer not to…” He gestured vaguely.

“I want to, but tonight I will hold you.”

At this, Henri looked downright baffled but Tristan held out his arms and awkwardly, the big man shuffled over so that he could lay his head tentatively on Tristan’s shoulder. He relaxed after a moment, gathered Tristan up in his arms, and snuggled into him tightly.

“Would you like to tell me what happened to you?” Tristan said.

Henri drew up one leg and inserted it between Tristan’s. “I…I don’t know where to begin.”

“Henri…” Tristan hesitated and sifted his fingers gently through Henri’s dark curls, his eyes following the movement. He didn’t know what to say. “I hope you know that despite the…ah…financial nature of our relationship, I value you as a friend, and care about you a good deal.” He kissed the top of his head and tightened his embrace. Henri hesitated and then squeezed him back, settling himself more comfortably. Tristan discovered that he wanted to offer comfort and kindness to the man that had transformed his life even if he had paid him to do it, because even though money exchanged hands, Tristan couldn’t help but feel that there was a real, tangible connection between them. He let his fingers continue to drift through Henri’s hair as he frowned at the bruising that marred his beautiful back.

“You are important to me,” he whispered against Henri’s hair. “If I can help…?”