Oh.
He was snuggled up into Zach’s side, his arm and leg slung over the other man’s body and his face pressed into Zach’s armpit. He inhaled carefully. It should have been gross. It wasn’t. The warm, male, musky scent made him a little dizzy—in a good way. He inhaled again, relishing how good his body felt. Well-rested, well-fucked, and comfy.
Tristan looked at Zach, who was still dead to the world. The early sunlight brought out the little golden highlights in his rich brown hair. Tristan stared in fascination. He’d never seen hair like Zach’s before: it seemed brown most of the time, but in certain light his hair could take on a bit of a reddish or golden hue.
Then his sleep-addled brain registered something far more important: they had spent the night together. At some point during the night, Zach must have undressed fully: he was as naked as Tristan was.
Tristan worried his lip. This was all so very strange to him. He had never woken up with a man in his bed—he’d never actually brought a man home; it would be suicidal for his career. It had always been anonymous sex with faceless strangers in dark clubs. He had never been willing to risk his career for a fuck. He wasn’t like Gabriel, who was stupid enough not to care about consequences if people found out about his relationship with Jared. The funniest thing was, Gabriel wasn’t even gay; Tristan was pretty sure Jared was the only man Gabe had ever been attracted to. It was pretty ironic that his mostly straight adoptive brother was completely unashamed of his relationship with another man, while he, Tristan, couldn’t be gayer and yet he was so scared of being outed that he didn’t let any of his male lovers get a good look at his face.
Maybe some would call him a coward. Maybe he was a coward, but it was practical. He had worked so hard to get where he was now; it would be foolish to lose it over sex. Shagging women may not be satisfying or arousing—it felt like a chore at best if he managed to get it up at all—but he was forced to do it for appearances’ sake once in a while, and he had never brought those women home.
So all in all, this was his first time sleeping with someone.
Tristan’s eyes traveled down Zach’s body. He licked his lips. He had lied when he told Zach that Jared was the hottest man he had ever seen. Jared was classically handsome, his looks making most Hollywood actors pale in comparison, but Tristan never felt dizzy with desire to have Jared naked and on top of him.
“I didn’t take you for a cuddler.”
Tristan’s gaze snapped to Zach’s face, a wave of embarrassment sweeping over him as he met all-too-alert gray eyes. He suddenly became very aware of his arm and leg slung over Zach’s body and the fact that his head was nestled in Zach’s armpit. Tristan didn’t move away; if he did, it would prove that there was something wrong with his behavior in the first place. He wasn’t responsible for his behavior while he slept.
Inhaling carefully, Tristan tried to think of something scathing to say and couldn’t. He had no clue how to behave in this situation. This was his first morning after.
Tristan decided he didn’t like mornings after. He definitely didn’t like how vulnerable and unsure he felt. Zach’s eyes always seemed to see right through him and right now Tristan felt like an open book.
“I’m not a cuddler,” he said with a scowl. “I was just cold.”
Zach just looked at him for a moment but didn’t comment. “How is your groin?” he asked instead.
Groaning, Tristan rolled his eyes. “Really?”
“Yes. This is my job.” Zach untangled himself from Tristan’s limbs and sat up. His fingers started prodding and kneading Tristan’s groin muscles experimentally. “Any pain?”
Gazing at the ceiling, Tristan wondered what Zach would do if he complained that there was an ache in his cock. “No.”
“Looks good,” Zach concluded finally.
“It is good. I told you—I’m ready to begin real training. My groin doesn’t bother me anymore.”
“Absence of pain during normal daily activities can be deceiving. It’s different from the forces involved in training or competition. But it looks good. We’ll increase the intensity and frequency of training.”
Tristan looked at him. “Really?”
“Really. You’re ready to start jogging.”
Tristan eyed him in bewilderment. It was all very normal, as if they hadn’t had sex and weren’t naked in bed together. “Why are you…?”
Zach raised his eyebrows. “Why am I what?”
“Why aren’t you having a gay freak-out?” Tristan asked. “Why aren’t you feeling guilty or angry—or something? Why are you so calm?”
“What is the point?” Zach said in the same calm, rational tone. “What’s done is done. I’m not proud of it or anything, but it needed to be done. Now that we’ve finally dealt with it, we can move on and get on with our lives—and your training.” He got off the bed, presenting Tristan with a magnificent view of his wide, strong back and firm buttocks. “It’s done and over. There’s no point being angry over nothing now. You’re my patient. I’m your physiotherapist. Now get your bottom out of bed. We’re behind schedule as it is.”