Disclaimer: Tristan DuGrey and Jess Mariano are the property of the WB, Amy Sherman-Palladino and affiliates.

Author's Notes: I'm delving into something a little new and different here, at least for me.

Behind

I cannot live with You --

It would be Life --

And Life is over there --

Behind the Shelf

- Emily Dickinson

He hates the people that will say that it's all part of some rebellious stage that he's been going through; a need to lash out and defy his daddy's expectations. He hates the people that will say that it's only experimentation, a phase. Something he will outgrow. Like how he outgrows his clothes and shoes. He hates the people that will say that it's trendy now. That must size up the 'cool' factor before they deem it acceptable.

So instead he gives them nothing to talk about…except the latest, potential, trophy-wife to be, that clings desperately onto his arm and flutters her eyelashes beseechingly.

In dark corners though, he gropes. In dark corners, he runs his hands across hardened chest, relishes the feel of muscle and sighs at the sensation of another man…touching. Two male bodies contorted and writhing, pressed against walls and exploring the familiar (yet unfamiliar) terrain of each other. Jerking off with a hand that is definitely not his but male nonetheless. With the ability to be that much rougher because he's not with some princess who will cry if he clenches a little too tightly, cuts off circulation and then bites into flesh, drawing blood. A little pain with pleasure, but there's a whole lot more pleasure.

What he loves most is the kissing. Their faces mushed together as their tongues duel for dominance. And his lover's lips are as soft (if not softer) than any other woman he has kissed. His hands get tangled up in his lover's dark strands; they're not soft but dry and straw-like. When he teasingly wrenches his lips away - depriving them both - his lover growls threateningly, "Tris-tan." The two syllables are pronounced and accentuated and it sends thrills down his spine. Makes him feel wanted in that desperate, raw and animalistic way. Almost makes him feel loved.

He thinks to himself as he chants a mantra of "Jess, Jess, Jess" that this is Life. That the feel of those hardened calluses running across his length is all that matters. And when his lover's mouth engulfs him, he free falls into ecstasy as his heart rate increases and the blood pumps through his veins. Life.

Tristan's father would not agree. Neither does Science. Two sperm do not equate Life. Instead you need an egg (prestigious and rich lineage mandatory) and a sperm, his sperm, to produce a life which will be the next DuGrey heir. It is in the Master Plan. The Great Scheme. Destiny.

They talk about running away together but it is more part of their banter, like:

"You and me, Mariano. We'll run away."

"The way Romeo and Juliet planned it, but without the whole dying part?"

"Of course. I'm Romeo."

"In your dreams, DuGrey. You've got the whole blonde thing going for you; you'd make a perfect Juliet. Besides, you're so pretty."

"Honey, you flatter me. However, you forget, I'm a far cry from the innocent Miss Capulet. Dean however…"

"Please. I have so much better taste that that. After all, I picked you, DuGrey."

They will never run away together for a whole variety of reasons. They'll never have anything except those perfect moments in darkened corners, behind the trophy case. He likes to dream of something more nonetheless.