“Know what else you did for Andrew,” he murmured. His mouth was at Christian’s ear, his hips nudging against his ass. It was the slightest of contact, but Trip might as well have had Chris pressed against the wall for the effect it was having on him. “And I know it makes him a fool for letting you go. Maybe there’ll be room for me in that harem you’ll be collecting over the next few weeks. I can show you what else I can do with my mouth outside of running it off.”

No, Trip, it’ll never happen. Never in this life. That’s what he should have said. But he was too distracted. First, by thoughts of all the things he happily did to and for Andrew. Things he would never do again. He hadn’t really thought about it that way before, but now a sense of what could only be described as mourning settled over him. He really liked having sex with Andrew. But he couldn’t dwell on that for long before his mind led him down the dark, winding path that led directly to Trip’s mouth. He had no doubt Trip and his mouth were very talented.

Since he couldn’t say what he should have, he didn’t say anything at all as the queue shuffled forward. Trip stuck close behind him, not allowing even an inch of space between them. And there was no relief once they finally reached their seats. It seemed like Trip was sitting right on top of him.

“Good thing it’s not a long flight,” Trip commented, glancing pointedly at how awkwardly Chris had had to fold his long legs into the scant space separating the seats. “You goin’ to want to get up and walk the aisle once we’re up?”

“No,” Christian declined. “I think I’m going to try to sleep off some of this headache.” He buckled his belt, and shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. His shoulder was against Trip’s, and their knees were touching. He’d have to sleep if he didn’t want to focus on that fact.

“There’s other ways to get your mind off that, you know.”

“What? Sudoku?” Christian asked lightly.

Trip leaned in, his leg pressing more firmly to Christian’s. “Was thinking of something a tad less cerebral, actually,” he said, pitching his voice lower. “We get up in the air, and then I get you off. Guaranteed to relax you.”

Christian stared at him. He wasn’t kidding. There wasn’t a trace of humor in his eyes. He was genuinely offering to do...something to him. Christian thought he should tell him no, but why? Why tell Trip he wasn’t interested? He was single now. Trip was definitely single. They were both adults. And God knew, he needed to relax. Fuck it.

“Well, I would like actual proof you can do something with that mouth besides run it off,” Chris murmured.

A slow burn began in Christian’s stomach that matched Trip’s smile. With the angle of his body blocking the view of the passengers across the aisle, Trip dragged a single finger along the top of Christian’s thigh, diverting inward when he reached the hip. “We’ll wait until the first wave has used the loo after the seatbelt light is off,” he said. He unerringly found the head of Christian’s cock in his pants and traced the crown through the fabric. “That’ll give us time for you to get to appreciate it.”

Christian realized this wasn’t a spur of the moment suggestion. Trip had been thinking about this. Enough to plot when the best time would be. And he probably wouldn’t be content to simply plan a blowjob in the loo. Christian caught his breath as Trip traced the head of his cock again, applying just enough pressure to make his stomach clench. God, if this was the result of Trip’s devious plots, then he was all for devious plotting.

“I hope you’re flexible. Those restrooms are barely enough for one person.”

Trip chuckled, and the tip of his tongue appeared to swipe across his lower lip. “I bend in all sorts of interesting ways, luv. Lucky for us, we’ve got three weeks for me to show you.”

Christian could hardly wrap his mind around the notion of three weeks of mindless sex with Trip. Of course, there were arguments against this. This wasn’t safe, no-strings-attached holiday sex, if only because when they returned to England, Trip would still be Andrew’s best friend, and he’d ... well, he’d be moving on with his life. Things could get messy.

Trip’s thumb went over his erection again.

Yeah, things were about to get messy.