Page 112 of Dad Next Door

TRISTAN

“Quinn?” I knocked on the wall next to his open bedroom door, the plug I’d retrieved hidden under my arm.

Silence was my answer.

Taking that as a sign he was still getting ready, I came into his room and tossed the plug on the bed, then sank down next to it.

Quinn’s bedroom suite was incredible.

Mine was the typical modern, minimalist style, with a big open room and a walk-in closet connecting the main room and the bathroom. The only features I liked were the gas fireplace on the wall across from my bed and the balcony.

Quinn’s suite was a collection of smaller rooms that created an almost apartment-style space with a main bedroom, two separate living areas, and a giant walk-in closet with a built-in dressing room that led to his incredible bathroom.

The entire house was done in warm tones with lots of wood accents, splashes of bright colors, and little architectural treasures like ornate shelves, sweeping archways, gilded pillars, and light fixtures that wouldn’t be out of place in a modern art exhibit. The house also had lots of hidden storage built into mundane things like staircases and trapdoors in his closets. He even had a secret room in his loft.

It had character and charm and all the things my house didn’t.

Even with his lack of furniture and tons of empty space, the house was inviting and comfortable. The kind of house that felt like a home.

“Hey.”

Peeling my eyes from the massive chandelier over his bed, I looked toward the closet.

Quinn stood in the doorway, a pair of gray sweats riding low on his hips and a fresh shirt dotted with water stretching across his chest.

“Hey.” I stood. “Feel better?”

“Yeah.” He walked toward me, his steps sure and purposeful. “I hope you don’t mind. I went for comfort over fashion and put these on.”

“I’m not complaining. You know my thoughts on gray sweatpants.”

He grinned and came to a stop in front of me. “I do. I also remember promising to never buy another color of sweatpants again after you told me.” He glanced at the plug I’d put on the bed, then back at me, some of his earlier nervousness back.

“Are you sure you want this?”

He nodded. “I trust you.”

Gently, I placed my hands on his sides and slowly slid them down until I clutched his hips. Tugging him forward, I pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

He deepened the kiss, angling his head to the side and slotting our mouths together.

I let him set the pace, giving him a chance to relax and get out of his head.

He let out a soft sigh. I took the opportunity to sweep my tongue between his parted lips. His moan was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

Strong hands ran over my back, then slipped under my shirt and teased right above my tailbone. I loved feeling his callouses against my skin, loved how his touch could be so tender and soft but still feel possessive.

Not wanting to rush things, I kept our kisses slow and languid. This might be his first time bottoming, but it was also the first time I’d had the chance to top in over a decade. I wanted to make sure we both enjoyed and got to savor every second of it.

He sighed against my mouth, his body relaxing as more of his tension bled away.

Moving slowly, I slipped my hands under his shirt and rubbed the soft skin of his back.

He reached behind him and tugged the shirt up by the collar, forcing us to break the kiss so he could get it off.

“You too,” he whispered, his heated stare roving over my torso.

Not bothering to go slow or try to tease him, I yanked my shirt off and tossed it aside.

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