Finding Home: Halos and Heroes, Bk 1 - 13. Chapter 13

We can't be afraid of change. You may feel very secure in the pond that you are in, but if you never venture out of it, you will never know that there is such a thing as an ocean, a sea.

—JoyBell

AFTER the buildup of sexual tension between us at the café, we’d both known that the only place Ben would be taking me back to would be his bed, so it didn’t surprise me when he bypassed the turn that would’ve taken us to Sofia’s. That was fine with me. I’d chosen to cross the line with him tonight. Backing out wasn’t an option.

We were quiet for the entire drive, letting the CD of instrumental covers of songs I recognized as a medley of pop, and hard rock songs, speak for us.

In my head, silence used to mean planning. Waiting. The anticipation before, during, and sometimes even after an op, depending on the outcome. Most people weren’t comfortable with silence. I was less at ease with conversation. Ben was a talker, so I had a feeling he was following my lead. However, the irony wasn’t lost on me that my need for silence now, was also about anticipation. Not because I had to compartmentalize so I was in a headspace to take out my targets quick and clean. No, this current need for quiet right now was so that I could listen to the sound of Ben’s relaxed breath and focus on the hand he wasn’t steering his truck with. That one, was still holding mine.

Occasionally, his thumb would sweep over the sensitive webbing between my thumb and forefinger, ratcheting up the heated tension between us another notch. By the time we reached his house, the need to touch him, and to be touched, practically had me crawling out of my skin. Him holding my hand suddenly wasn’t enough contact to sate the need I had for there to be even less distance between us than the narrow space of the truck’s cab. I needed more of his kisses that always curled my toes, even when they were playful or fleeting. More of his hands on my skin, picking up where we’d left off that morning in his kitchen before we’ve gone for our run. More of the small, oddly comfortable intimacies we’d shared at Maplewood. I definitely needed more of his hands skating all over my body, exploring at his leisure until I was ready to drop to my knees and offer him anything on earth to let me come.

Who could blame me, though? Almost every moment we’d spent together, had been some kind of foreplay, even when it wasn’t sexual. An orgasm was just a release after all. A little death, as the French liked to say. For years, I’d been holding onto so many emotions and secrets that I couldn’t share with just one person. I was used to compartmentalizing my secrets, putting them into columns or propriety based on clearance levels, or lack thereof. People without the proper clearances couldn’t know the real explanations for my nightmares, and the people with clearances, had no rightful claim to any of my personal feelings, hopes or fears. Max fell into a category of getting everything except the truth of how I felt about him. A.J. got most things, but we rarely talked about what gave me nightmares, because he had his own, and some of them were linked to mine. Things were different with Ben. He didn’t want the carefully sanitized versions of any aspect of my life.

Sleeping with Ben tonight was undoubtedly going to be some of the best sex I’d ever had in my life, but when I came for him, he was also going to get everything else I’d pent up for years with my inability to build a completely open, intimate relationship with anyone.

I exhaled slowly, my eyes closing as I got lost in a moment of fantasy; Ben jerking me off, his hand gliding along my skin effortlessly, uncomfortable friction a nonissue, because I was practically leaking precome. Ben’s hands were softer than mine, and he tended to narrate his words with them when he talked, so I knew how big they were. He’d have no problem getting a solid grip. But then again, would I even let him? As much as I wanted to feel Ben’s hands on me, the desire to get my hands on him, was even greater. I wanted to sink to my knees in front of him, then unbutton his jeans. With my fingers hooked through the top of his underwear, I’d be able to get them, and his pants down at the same time. Having even one extra step between me, and complete access to every inch of his body, was a negative.

My disappointment tastes sour when we arrive, and Ben leads me out toward the stretch of beach behind his property, instead of up his front steps. Curiosity keeps my protests contained for the time being, though I’m the one who links our fingers this time. If Ben drags out this impromptu walk on the beach thing too long, already holding onto him will make it a lot easier to sweep his legs safely out from under him and get him to the softness of the sand beneath me. His heartrate would never have the change to come from the sudden unexpected movement, because I’d be straddling his lean hips and doing my damndest to keep it racing while Ben was balls deep inside me.

Granted, I'd never had sex on a beach; wet sand in my junk wasn't my idea of a good time. But I’d slept in worse places than a safe, private beach. I'd definitely fucked in worse, and none of the people in those places, had ever come close to turning me on the way Ben did. At this point, if he said jump, I'd ask how high, without worrying what my landing would be like on the other side. A smarter man would've pressed for that other side to be the warmth of Ben's bed, since the wind off the ocean was just a few degrees above uncomfortably cool.

Thick layers of bold waves curled their white caps toward the darkening sky. A storm was coming, but with Ben's hand in mine I found a strange comfort in the rowdy rumble of the Atlantic Ocean. That swirling sea was a safety zone for me right now. One hazard that I could protect Ben from, simply by keeping my body between his, and the swirling water. Alone, by the ocean's edge, I wasn’t plagued by fears that I wouldn't be fast enough to stop a bullet meant for him, like I was in crowded places when I was with my family. As long as I could hear the waves—such a different landscape than the dusty plains of endless deserts, jungles and cities that had felt far too dignified for the scent of blood and quiet chaos I’d left behind when ordered—we were safe, and I could breathe.

The sudden crack of thunder caught me off guard, tearing apart my moment of tranquility by releasing old memories of echoic gunfire. My steps faltered ever so slightly. I huffed out a shaky breath when Ben’s thumb stroked over the top of my hand in gentle reassurance. I gave his, a press in return, before letting go to slip an arm around his midsection instead. The new position kept us pressed closer together, though I did it more to ground myself than to be romantic. Ben didn't seem to care about the reason. The move still dragged a smile out of him, and he hummed as we walked. The tune sounded like Ave Maria. I let myself be swept away by his low baritone that somehow managed to drown out the sound of Mother Nature's grumbling.

Playing with angry elements wasn't the smartest idea, so I glanced at Ben. “Should we go in?”

Ben shook his head. His body shifted away from me so he could bend down to undo his laces, then slip off his socks and shoes. Leaving them in a small neat pile, he rolled up his pants, then held out his hand after indicating I do the same. For about half a beat, it was tempting to make an asinine comment about the cliché of moonlit strolls on the beach, but I kept my mouth shut. What was the point of being as asshole, especially when I wanted to experience the simplicity of the paste beach sand made when it was packed down with ocean water, thick between my toes? After so many years of wearing combat boots that slid as easily in blood, as they did in mud and loose sands, this was clean. Purifying, as the sea swept away the day, and replaced it with new gifts for tomorrow from its watery depths. If we were taken out by lightning because we tempted fated by inviting the water to lick around our ankles, in an impending thunderstorm, I'd still die a happy man.

At some point we reached an outcropping of rock near the water. My hand steadied Ben as he climbed onto the damp stones, before I sat beside him. Our vantage point was higher up here, allowing us to have an unobstructed view of the endless miles of ocean. The crash of the waves breaking hard against the shoreline was louder here, yet somehow less abrasive and disorienting, simply because Ben was sitting so close to me.

The intensity of all the naturel elements around us, contrasted with the quiet content I felt when Ben laid his head against my shoulder. My earlier panic dissolved like the foam tipping the waves whenever they hit the sand.

"Sam?"

"Mm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing right now."

I heard his smile as much as I felt it when he turned his head slightly to press a kiss into my shoulder. His words were murmured into the cloth of my t-shirt, sending pleasant vibrations through my flesh. “I shut you down? Sweet."

"Temporarily. It's nice to have a few minutes of blank peace. I love the girls and Sofia, but they need a lot of attention. Earlier today with Addie, it was intense. And Emma, God love her, is nonstop."

"Girls usually need round the clock surveillance," Ben said. "It's why I go for boys—less maintenance required." His head tilted on my shoulder so I could see his smile. "It doesn't make you a bad person to need the occasional time out, or something that's just yours, Sam. Doesn't mean you love them any less."

“My head knows that. My heart is still making the adjustment. But I’m getting there. Crazy as they may make me, they’re also the reason I stopped drinking, and started wanting to be more than just the uncle who saw them between deployments. The reason I want to be a better fu-frigging person.”

Ben’s soft chuckle against my shoulder was more of a motivation for me to watch my language than the fact my wallet was significantly lightened in fees every time I saw him.

“I want this new normal, where Addie’s sometimes a snot, and Emma freaks me out with just how much she loves sprinkles on everything, including the cookies we need to take to her Girl Scout troop meeting next week.”

Ben laughed when I shuddered. “You need to gird your loins against the horny housewives.”

“I need pepper spray.”

He laughed again as I shook my head with a soft snort. “I don’t even mind Sofia and her neon colored post-its with the Honey-Do chores like fixing the leaking sink… it’s all a pain in the butt, but it’s so damn normal… they’re my new normal, and I want that. When I look at them, all of them, all I think is, mine."

"Possessive much?"

By the lilt in his tone, I knew Ben was teasing. It didn’t stop me from clearing my throat sheepishly. "Lil' bit. I protect what's mine."

"How do you define what's yours?"

"What do you mean?"

"I’m asking for a clear definition of the word, from the Samuel Trammell dictionary, not the disgraceful Merriam Webster. I’ve been told they’re bunk.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Ben’s dimples were as deep as crabholes in the sand when he grinned at me. “Nope. But I still want your definition of what it means to belong to you.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to get on that list.”

Everything seemed to slow down, awareness sliding through me. This was one of those moments that would’ve been depicted as a beautifully cinematic, visual crossroads in a movie. I had to choose which direction I was going to go. Knowing where I wanted to end up wasn’t enough. I had to make an actual decision.

Take action, Sam. You know how to do that.

Ben was looking at me intently, as the fingers on his right hand stroked up and down my arm gently.

Swallowing didn’t help steady my voice. "Persistence pays off..."

We were both quiet for a moment, our silence highlighted by the shuddering intensity of the ocean backdrop. I didn’t know if what I’d said was enough, but I felt raw. There was no way of knowing if this was the road that’d lead me to at least beginnings of a happier tomorrow, but I was taking it anyway.

My gaze held Ben’s when he shifted his position closer to me, narrowing the gap between our bodies.

"Is that so? How close am I exactly?"

"Very."

Patience is a virtue, was the only remnant of Sunday school that my mind suddenly seemed to think was appropriate in the here and now, when the warmth of Ben’s hand, contrasted with the ocean cooled evening, as he curled it against my cheek. The pad of his thumb stroked along the length of my jaw before he kissed me lightly. It was the barest brush of our lips together, yet I felt it in my gut. When he pulled back, his smile was fond, thumb skimming over my cheek again.

Even after that brief kiss I could taste cinnamon on his breath beneath the lingering, sweetened flavor of his drink from the coffeeshop, even though I hadn’t seen him pop any kind of mint or candy in his mouth. It was possible that was just how he tasted, or maybe it was just how my own mind quantified the familiarity of him.

To test the theory—at least that’s how I justified it to my brain, which said I was just angling for another kiss— I leaned in for another brief meeting of our mouths. My lips parted beneath Bens, eyes closing right after I registered the desire overwhelming the happiness in his eyes. He accepted the open invitation, moving one hand around my back so he could press me closer to him. When I was within range, I was rewarded by the cool touch of his fingertips drifting under the hem of my t-shirt to explore the bare skin just above my waistband. Normally I’d have had an undershirt on, but the fabric of tonight’s choice was snug enough that I’d gotten boos from my at-home peanut gallery when I’d initially put one on. I was used to and comfortable in layers, but right now, I was glad that the women in my life had more sense about date-appropriate clothing than I did.

Ben adjusted against me, seeking more contact as he deepened the kiss. His hands weren’t the only ones doing the roaming now. As his went up my back, mine crept up the front of his t-shirt, slowly stroking across his bare belly, then higher. Seemed he’d gotten the memo about no undershirts on date nights either.

I grinned against his mouth at my own irreverence before he shifted the direction of his kisses from my mouth to the side of my throat. My head immediately tilted to one side to grant him better access, though I was fully aware how metaphorically vulnerable that position was. Any animal that bared its neck or belly, knew that something bigger, and stronger, could end it right then and there. I didn’t give a fuck, as illustrated by my wordless sound of acquiesce when Ben sucked at my skin just enough for pleasurable pressure, without raising marks that could be seen later by three people I really didn’t feel like explaining them to.

“Is this all right?”

I wasn’t a fan of Ben’s change in tone, which bordered on uncharacteristic uncertainty even as he resumed a lighter path of kisses along the front of my throat. My reassurance came in the form of my right hand sinking into the curly hairs at the nape of his neck and threading through them to encourage him to keep exploring that entire vicinity.

Ben caught my meaning and growled gently against my skin as he licked a damp stripe across my throat, then up the opposite side to my ear.

I approved. It was nice not to be expected to talk for now. I was already splitting my concentration between focusing on just how talented Ben’s mouth was at identifying all my erogenous zones with record speed and fighting the urge to keep from grinding my hips up against his in search of any kind of friction against the heavy, tented fabric in the front of my jeans. The closest part of Ben’s body to me in our current position, was his left knee. I rubbed up against it, and the sound of pleasure that slid from my lips, was drowned out by the possessive ones he made as he molded our lips together more intensely.

Sex on the beach with sand in my crotch hadn’t appealed to me, but apparently making out on a craggy rocky surface was A-okay with my dick.

Since the first day we'd met, Ben had been trying to get me to see the best parts of life, which in his world, included God. I couldn't say I was completely there yet, but Heaven was definitely close as Ben took the initiative, and slid into my lap, straddling me like he had on his back deck, the night he’d saved me from myself at the bar. I slid both my hands to his hips to guide his movements once my brain got with the program, and I realized that he’d positioned himself deliberately; the tight ridge in my jeans, pressed up against the pert curve of his ass each time he rolled his hips. The denim of his pants and mine didn’t allow for me to feel as much definition as I’d have liked, but it was definitely better than my awkward knee hump had been.

My mouth went dry when Ben murmured, “That’s it,” as I rocked my hips up to match his lazy movements. He continued kissing along every inch of my throat and shoulder. The stubble along his cheeks scraped my skin, emphasizing the warm, soft curve of his lips, and the sleek tease of his tongue as he invited me into the hereafter. I nipped Ben's lower lip when he captured both my hands in his, pinning them to my lap with surprising strength to prevent me from stripping his shirt off. A hiss escaped my throat when his teeth worried the tender skin above my pulse. Suddenly I didn’t care if he left a mark. Fuck, I wanted him to.

My mouth hungrily captured Ben’s when he glanced up. The kiss was harder, messier than the ones that had come before it. I wanted to swallow him whole, needing him inside of me in any way I could have him. I breathed him into my lungs, not wanting to come up for air. No one could accuse me of doing things half assed. When I made the decision to commit to something, I went all the way.

Ben shuddered when I broke the kiss. He held my hands hostage, but my mouth was free to either complain about that, break the hold—which I could do without missing a beat— or do something more constructive. I went with door number three.

My lips dragged along his collarbone, leaving a damp trail of intention behind. I trekked the same path backward, with the safe edge of my teeth, then licked over the hollow of his throat. I felt Ben’s moan vibrate in his vocal cords as he abruptly released my hands.

A long finger hooked under my chin, and then we were kissing again with an almost elemental fury, bringing our mouths and bodies together like two men on fire. Ben’s fingers tightened on my hips, his pupils blown out with arousal when he finally untangled himself from me. He didn’t bother addressing the sand that was probably on the seat of his pants like it was on mine, or the obvious distension of his own jeans that was at a tempting level with my face for about fifteen seconds, before I took the hand he offered me.

"Now it's time for us to go in," he said.

We grabbed our things, then headed toward the house. The skies opened up at almost the exact moment our feet touched the back steps. I dropped my sneakers on the porch, turning my face up to the rain. Thick, cool drops drenched my t-shirt to my skin and matted my hair to my head, reminding me of being caught in summer storms as a kid, when this electric feeling inside of me had been fear of actually being struck by lightning, not just consumed by the level of heat between Ben and I.

My laughter at enjoying something this fucking stupidly simple and normal—turned on by a hot guy who I was really hoping was going to show me the best night of my life— was cut off as Ben dragged me toward him, disregarding the pouring rain. He was the only stable thing in my spinning world as he took my mouth hard, in a kiss so hot, it threatened to vaporize the water on my skin. All I could feel, all I could think about, was Ben.

I was so far gone I didn't realize he'd opened the door, until I found myself wedged up against the other side of it. Ben’s hands were on the wall beside my head, but he made no move to close the gap he'd put between us. We didn’t need to touch. The intensity of his gaze alone, sent a slow shudder rippling through my entire body. He wanted me. I could see that truth in the tempting abyss of his eyes. But he was waiting for something. I had a feeling I knew what it was, and the expectation made my mouth go dry.

If Ben taken me right then and there, pounding my ass until I walked like John Wayne, I might’ve been able to disconnect later when panic about commitment set in, and returned to a life where I gave everything to my family, and drowned in a sea of guilt-driven, self-martyrdom. But somehow, Ben knew that, so he was waiting for me.

There was a noticeable vibration humming in my veins when I slid my arms around Ben’s waist. Ben's tongue slid across his lower lip, and that subconscious gesture made my cock twitch. I’d practically jumped him on the rocks, but he wanted the words as much as the action.

Jesus, Ben, what you do to me…

"What do you want?"

"Whatever you like. This is your bridge." His tone was teasing, but he was watching my face like a cat did a mouse hole.

"Is there a toll to get across?"

"Mmmhmm."

“What is it?”

“What do you think it’s worth?”

I hooked my foot through Ben's, using his temporary disorientation to press my advantages of greater strength and size, and reverse our positions. Having his back to the wall, didn't fade the smile curving Ben's mouth. Instead, his soft hum of surprised pleasure swept over me with more force than the waves outside.

He melted back against the wall, while my gaze memorized every line and angle of his face. With most of my focus on the full curve of his upper lip, it was a miracle I even noticed the subtle tremble along his skin when I ran my fingertips slowly across the span of his broad shoulders, then continued down his arm. I wanted to tear his damn clothes off and touch him everywhere. Wanted to drop to my knees to suck him off quick and messy. To fuck him up against the door, or maybe bend over the console table in the foyer so he could take me. I wanted it rough, raw and messy.

I also didn’t want to break the connection we were building with these small, tender touches.

Ben's lips parted when I leaned in just enough to trace the edges with the tip of my tongue. Our noses bumped gently when he tilted his face to steal the softest of kisses, still keeping his hands relaxed against the wall so I had control over anything I wanted from him.

"You can still walk away, Sam.”

I snorted softly. We both knew that wasn’t going to happen anymore than someone returning a carton of ice cream to the freezer. Once it was in their caressing, hungry hands, a decision had been made. I was making a similar one now.

"You don't want me to leave."

Ben grinned. “This is a one-way toll. No backsies.”

Our eyes met, gazes holding longer this time. Desire broke across my skin in the form of prickling gooseflesh and my knees threatened to buckle when I pressed my hips closer to his. Ben was the damn bridge, and I knew what the toll had to be.

My lips glided up the side of Ben’s neck instead, exploring spots that triggered his moans. There was a subtle range to the litany of sound, and when I stopped just beneath his ear and flicked my tongue across that thin, tender his skin, his tone went from sensual baritone to the heightened innocence of a choir boy’s soprano. I committed every single one to memory, so I’d be able to revisit them later.

Hip to hip, I allowed myself to savor the warmth of Ben’s mouth against my own, taking ownership of it. Still tender, but deeper, licking over inch of the warm recesses from tongue to the roof of his mouth, and the edge of his molars. I intended to explore his body with the same intensity, beginning with the hand I bunched into the fabric to lift the hem. The other caressed all the smooth, bare skin of his chest and abdomen that was left exposed.

Ben’s nipples were apparently just as sensitive as mine, because his hips snapped up against my body when I gently rolled the right one between my fingers the way I liked men to do to me. He gasped into my mouth when I repeated the move with the left one, then went back and forth until Ben made an impatient sound and Ben hooked his fingers under my jaw to bring my face up to his, sucking my tongue into his mouth with an almost desperate edge as I fed his name back to him with a moan. We traded kisses, sucking and licking like we didn’t need air.

I grinned when I finally broke the kiss to appease my protesting lungs. As wrapped up one another as we’d been, I could now say with full certainty, that he didn’t currently have either gum or candy in his mouth, so that sweet cinnamon flavor was definitely a mental association I made with him.

“Is that good enough for a toll?"

My laughter was muffled when Ben kissed me again, harder this time, devouring every inch of my mouth like he’d been put on this earth for this exact moment, right here, right now. I’d paid the toll, and now it was game on.

My arms went over my head as he pushed my shirt up past the barrier of my ribs and shoulders, so it could drop from my fingertips. Before it even hit the floor, Ben’s hands had moved on to my jeans. His minor struggle with a stubborn zipper that snagged on, and refused to cooperate with wet denim, did nothing to ruin the moment. Instead, the urgent intensity between us ramped up higher. If he hadn’t batted my hands away impatiently, I’d have gotten my jeans down myself, but Ben wasn’t having any of it. He seemed to want to savor me, as much as I did him.

"Proof immeasurable that there is a God," he murmured, wedging his knee between my legs, trapping the denim he hasn’t been able to work past my mid-thighs in this position. Fortunately, he’d gotten my boxer briefs down that far too, so I was all good with the situation after I braced a hand on the wall by his head for balance.

My breath exhaled in a hiss when Ben’s hand scraped low to caress the smooth skin around my crotch. "I wasn't expecting this."

The usual assumption from guys who got this far with me, was that I was into the excessive metrosexual manscaping even though I had, until recently, owned exactly two pairs of jeans, and a lot of black and khaki BDUs, that I wore interchangeably with plain white, or black t-shirts. My hair got cut when it was long enough to irritate me, and considering my nieces had to dress me tonight with the help of my sister-in-law, my clean-shaven, southern hemisphere, wasn’t a vanity thing.

Clearing my throat, I said, “Force of habit. In the field it's important to keep things neat and clean because of ticks and bedbugs and—"

I caught myself when Ben grinned.

"Smooooth talker."

The tease in his voice made my blush deepen, no doubt sending it crawling all over the rest of my body which was clearly visible since the lights were on.

"It's not a complaint, Sam,” he said, correctly judging the expression on my face. I like it. Gives me more skin to explore." His voice deepened, and I felt it as intimately as if he'd wrapped that sweet mouth around my cock.

Reaching up to curl my fingers through the belt loops on his jeans, I pulled Ben forward. Our bodies aligned perfectly as he took over the kiss I initiated. He took over, and his tongue teased the corners of my mouth, coaxing as much as he commanded. I wasn't sure who moaned first, but it didn't matter when Ben's hands moved to my hips to arch them up against his thickening cock which was still frustratingly encased in denim. Having him fully dressed while I was shirtless, cock out, nah, that wasn’t going to work for me.

The pressure of Ben’s hands became more demanding, just this side of painful when I nipped his lower lip sharply, then licked over the spot. My exasperated arousal was obvious even to my own ears as I huffed, “You have too many damn clothes on.”

Ben grinned, cutting off my complaint with more fevered kisses as he pushed me back, both of us laughing as we tried to navigate our way into the living room at an injured snail’s pace, because having my pants around my thighs stupidly hindered my steps. Neither of us wanted to break away from the other to handle it though, so we kept touching and kissing as we progressed awkwardly through the house. We managed not to break our necks on random pieces of furniture, though I somehow ended up tumbling over the arm of the couch. My weight sunk me like a ton of bricks into the overstuffed cushions.

Instead of helping me out of the piece of furniture that was threatening to eat me, Ben took the opportunity to wrestle my jeans the rest of the way down, divesting me of them, my boxer briefs, my socks and sneakers.

I approved of all of the above and was very much on board with him climbing over the same arm to press that hard, athletically lean body against mine. What I wasn’t thrilled with, was that I couldn’t enjoy said body as much as I wanted to, because he still had all his goddamn clothes on.

My vehement protest died in my throat when Ben captured my mouth with a ferocity that none of the Prince’s in Emma’s fairy tales ever unleased on their lady loves, when they'd finally scaled the castle walls after killing every fucking thing that had ever kept them apart.

I’d kissed more than a few men in my life who knew how to use their lips and tongues to their fullest advantage, but no one had ever kissed me like Ben did. Whether his kisses were gentle or heated, they always warmed a spot low in my belly, that went past the physical need to fuck, and be fucked. Ben kissed me like his only true intention, was to let me know how he felt, when he knew I couldn’t handle the words. This wasn’t a fairy tale, and I sure as fuck wasn’t a princess, but with those dragging, determined kisses, Ben was assuring me he would, and could, slay even a motherfucking boogeyman’s dragons if he had to.

With my head spinning, I found it impossible to comprehend why I’d fought this. How we’d managed to stay away from each other for this long was a mystery. The chemistry between us had been there since day one. Granted, it’d been just a spark before, difficult to see and separate from the shitload of other emotions about my family and my past. But it’d been there, a small ember just waiting to be fanned into full glory.

Ben had chosen to accept the mission. Each time he’d come after me when I’d tried to run, I’d been reminded that broken pieces could be picked up and fixed in some kind of workable fashion if I just let him try… And Oh. My. God… those embers had flared hot, and right now, the danger of a raging forest fire was real.

Sorry Smokey, you’re kinda fucked, because this man WILL be fucking me.

As eager as I was to get on to other things, I couldn't make myself break away from those drugging kisses. With each one, Ben stripped away another layer of my reservations, taking me apart piece by piece, to remake me the way he chose. I didn’t fight him when he coaxed my hands above my head, pinning them effectively against the opposite arm of the couch. His tongue teased the lobe of my ear before he caught it between his teeth and pulled just enough to explode the connection between the nerves in that one spot, to those in the rest of my body, in a burst of sensual heat.

A strangled sound of desperation twisted out of my throat as I tried to thrust upward, wishing Ben’s free hand would reach between our bodies and wrap around my cock, or at the very least, take his damn clothes off so I could rut flesh against flesh. The sound of restless aggravation I fed into his mouth was returned in a soft chuckle, as if he knew I was rapidly losing the stoic self-discipline I employed in every other aspect of my life.

“You ok?”

“I will be once you stop screwing around and touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“Touch me without your clothes on.”

Ben laughed. “I can do all sorts of things you’ll like with my clothes on.”

“I’m sure you can. Take them off anyway so we can take a cue from Adam and Eve. They were naked when they got into all sorts of interesting shit.”

Laughing again, Ben dipped his head as low as he could after repositioning his hands on my wrist so he could actually reach the nipple he treated to a lazy circling by his tongue. When he sank the points of his front teeth gently into the nub, my immediate groan wasn’t one of protest, but the flat of his tongue still laved apologetically over the pebbled flesh. There was no need, but I accepted it because that gentle, sucking lick had me writhing beneath him.

Ben picked up on the most subtle of my reactions, and that sensual apology turned into a series of lazy circles licked into my skin, intercepted with the safer edge of his teeth. It was driving me crazy, but without breaking his hold to flip us on the couch, or onto the floor with his ass in the air—which I could’ve done without missing a beat, if I wasn’t enjoying the teasing power play so much—I didn’t know how to move things along. Until in a stupidly cliché lightbulb moment, I remembered that I was Samuel fucking Trammell. I’d been a goddamn Army Ranger, and Delta Operative.

Treat this like an op, Sam. The enemy engaged. Get him to submit.

A hot surge of determined desire replaced my carnal aggravation. I needed Ben now, and I didn’t need my hands free to get what I wanted.

Yoga had never been my thing, but flexibility helped in a fight. Numerous fighting styles emphasized training to turn every muscle in your body into a flexible weapon, so I had those abilities in spades. With a skilled roll of my hips, I was able to get my legs up to bracket Ben’s, before I locked my ankles up high onto his back. The denim against my skin of his jeans wouldn’t feel great if we went at things like this for an hour, but for now the rough material against my most tender pieces, created an erotic friction. The move surprised Ben, bringing out whiskey gold shadows of aroused promise in his eyes. I leaned up easily, my abs bunching as I curled my hand roughly into the front of his t-shirt below the collar, then closed the short gap between our mouths.

I’d never considered myself a greedy man. Quite the opposite really, especially considering the lifestyle path I’d chosen in the military; I literally take in an oath to live by serving others or die trying. But that life was over, and right now, my new pledge was to indulge my passion for exploring, and savoring, every inch of Ben’s mouth, lips, and tongue.

His hips snapped against mine, pressing us even closer as he fed another moan into my mouth. I could feel his skin, hot through the material of the t-shirt, and I suddenly wanted to rip the offending fabric off. If didn’t like the way he looked in it and was sure I could’ve replaced it easily if it turned out to be a favorite of his, it might’ve become an option.

Phase one of catching your target off guard complete. Moving on to phase two; make him forget his original plan and get him on board with yours.

“Ben, do you really think this wouldn’t all be better if you were naked, and could feel my skin against yours?” I breathed against his lips, hearing the husky note in my own voice that couldn’t be mistaken as anything but pure, and primal arousal. “Lose the jeans, and you can feel me leaking stripes into your skin, instead of your shirt. Lose the shirt too, then imagine what it’d feel like if you were to press your chest to mine when my nipples are finally pierced, and those cool metal bars press into your skin.”

His eyes almost crossed as I licked across his lower lip, murmuring, “That’s something I’ve always wanted to get done. They’re naturally sensitive… you saw that. Your mouth felt so damn good. You could’ve been rougher, used your teeth until they were all shiny and red…” My throat vibrated with a moan, but it was Ben’s growl that gave the escaped sound greater depth. “Now that I’m out of the military, metal is totally an option I will be pursuing.”

Ben made a pained sound, and I imagined his zipper was probably tattooing itself across his dick by now. “Lose the pants, baby, so you can feel how hard my dick is for you.”

I’d worded that very deliberately. I hadn’t said, ‘lose the pants so I can feel how hard you are for me, though that was my actual thought. Outside the bedroom, I was my own man, and honestly, I had a feeling Ben wouldn’t ever have a problem deferring to me if I had good reasons for any decision I made. But behind these four walls, I played up to that subtly dominant streak I’d glimpsed a few times when he’d been trying to save me from myself. I was giving up control willingly, because I trusted him. There was no way he’d be able to resist that.

I was proven right when Ben stole another hard kiss, then tapped my hip so I could release him from the captivity of my body to let him deal with his own clothing. He had to let go of my hands to manage, and as soon as I was free, they immediately went to his hips to hold him in place as I effortlessly rolled to a full sit-up position.

With Ben’s t-shirt blocking his view for the few seconds before the material cleared his head, he couldn’t see what I was doing, but the sharp inhale that made his flat abs go concave under my tongue when I licked up from his navel to his throat, told me he didn’t need his eyes right now. Other senses, like touch and sound, had to be kicking in as I sucked up around his pulse and then licked across his clavicle. I hummed into his skin when the soft material of Ben’s t-shirt brushed against my cheek as it fell to the floor.

Ben’s fingers slid through my hair, not directing, just touching, until I tilted my head back in invitation of a kiss. His hand cupped my jaw as he accepted, kissing me hard enough to cut off oxygen for both of us, before we fell back into the couch. I felt like I was sinking, drowning in a pleasure that felt nothing like anything that I’d ever experienced before.

For the briefest moment, I tensed. The thought felt almost disloyal to Max. Till this point, he’d been the person I’d wanted to be with for almost two decades. The one I measured everyone else up against. But now… just making out with Ben like this… it far surpassed any of the intimate moments Max and I had ever had between us.

And it’s ok that those two decades are behind you. Max made his choice. It wasn’t you.

There was probably an indent of Ben’s teeth left behind when he nipped my lower lip hard enough to get my attention, as if he sensed me drifting. The pain was erotic, but so was the gentle sweep of his tongue as he soothed the sore spot, and the brush of his fingers across the baby hairs at my temples.

"Still with me? We can still stop, Sam."

Absolutely fucking not! Max didn’t choose you, but you’re choosing Ben. Get your shit together, Trammell.

I arched an eyebrow pretty sure my expression was solidly relaying my unspoken thoughts. But just in case… "I don't want you to stop."

Moving my hands down Ben’s body, I encouraged him by kneading his ass. When Ben moaned into my mouth, I worked one hand between us at an awkward angle to pop his button one handed, then lowered his zipper. A wriggle of his hips freed his cock from the fabric restraint of his briefs. I pumped him loosely once, then again. He wasn’t as long as I was, but he was thicker, probably an inch or so below problematic. The head was a ruddy reddish purple; indisputable evidence that he was just as worked up as I was. The color was almost glazed beneath a sheer pearly layer as he leaked pre-come.

"Jesus… you look so good… feel so good."

"Leave him out of it. I'm off the clock, and don't want to share you with anyone else tonight."

My laugh was muffled by Ben's mouth as he pulled me in for another kiss. His dick left a wet trail against my belly as Ben broke off our kiss to lick down the side of my throat. His teeth scraped my Adam's apple, jostling my arm away from his dick, and I leaned my head back into the couch arm to grant him complete access. The air trapped between us warmed, the scent of arousal heady. He was breathing hard, murmuring my name, but it wasn’t enough.

I snaked a hand down his body again, seeking out his length to resume stroking him. A groan was fed into my mouth as his cock jerked against my palm, when I smeared the pearly liquid around the flare of his cockhead, teasing beneath the crown with my thumb. I didn’t know what he liked, but I knew what worked for me, and was used to thinking quickly and readjusting plans even faster.

"Yes, just like that, Samuel."

My full name in that masculine whisper made things in my body tighten with a need that had nothing to do with the raging desire below my waistline. No one had ever called me Samuel except my father and my superiors in the military. Not even the Colonel or Vera ever used my full name, because they knew the connotations I attached to it. Ben was taking it back now and making it his.

“Pants. Off. Now.” Because my fucking mission was accomplished.

Ben’s laughter rumbled against my throat, his teeth sucking up a defiant pressure on the pulse point that was sure to bruise. It sounded like he murmured, “mine,” but I didn’t have time to overthink it because my body was suddenly released from the weight of his. His jeans and boxer briefs disappeared in one smooth move that reminded me he’d once done this for a living. Instead of being jealous, it lit me up like the fourth of July. What he’d done before, who he’d done before, didn’t matter. He thought I was his. I knew right then and there—despite any inevitable, stupid insecurities that would probably come up later when we weren’t high on each other—that he was mine. I planned to take advantage of every trick he knew.

For a moment I indulged in the erotic visual that was Benjamin Santiago. It was a shame he preferred to take photos than be in them, because with the right, artful lighting and positioning, he’d be perfectly at home in a blown-up canvas on the wall of a high-end art gallery. Broad shoulders, flat abs, with narrow hips that cut into long legs… all covered in bronze skin that went from head to toe, with slight breaks in color where the paler golden caramel, blended into the deeper bronze of his summer tan. Benjamin Santiago obviously didn’t to sunbathe in the buff. Good, because if he had, I’d have made the world go blind, one pair of eyes at a time.

The sudden, possessive feeling that settled between my shoulder blades as my gaze finally returned to his amused, lazy expression, made me rethink the art gallery idea. If he ever wanted to play around with a camera, I’d be the one taking the photos, and they’d live on my cell only. That was my last thought before Ben was on me again.

By day, Ben was subservient, serving others who needed him. But his hands weren't passive now as they explored every inch he could reach. His mouth on mine was demanding, expecting everything from me, saying things with his kisses that he’d said with words already. He nipped each corner of my mouth, then pressed a kiss into the seam of my lips to get me to open for him. His tongue stroked over mine, mapping out my mouth like he was trying to figure out the parts he’d want to revisit later. Or maybe I just tasted a certain way to him, just like he did to me, and he was trying to savor that. I didn’t know for sure, and it didn’t matter. Not as long as he kept running his fingers through the short strands of my hair, and tugging just enough for the small, sharp stings that made my dick harden even more.

Without any clothing in the way, I could feel the desperate beat of his heart like something caged inside it was trying to get out. Wild. Frantic. 180 degrees away from the leisurely kisses he feathered across my lips, like there was no rush, even though I could feel his cock painting erotic nonsense symbols on my belly each time he rocked against me.

His breath warmed my ear. "When was the last time you were with Max?"

I watched my fingers instead of his eyes as I stroked them lightly through his hair, then dragged them down over his broad shoulders. Ben’s skin was smooth and perfect, but the athletic contours would pop even more if he ever got inked. Of course, the eyes of all his parishioners would probably pop out of their eye sockets if they ever saw their fearless leader rocking vivid color. Or maybe more dramatic black and white, heavy with artistic shadow, like his photographs. Lots of hell bound souls would be born that day.

“Sam?”

I heard his previous question in my name, and we focused on his face.

"Does it matter?"

Ben’s own long, lean fingers caressed my temples for a minute, before he swiped his thumb along my lower lip, tracing the curve.

"Not in the way you think. I’m not jealous. I just want to know if we should grab a condom. I'm clean. Like I said, I haven't been with anyone in years. But you know what I’m really asking."

Yes, yes, I did, and my nervous swallow was audible even to my own ears. Had it been anyone else asking, there would've been absolutely zero hesitation in my saying yes to the rubber. Wrap it before you tap it, had been my mantra since the first time Max and I’d hooked up when we were sixteen. Not playing it safe hadn’t ever crossed my mind until that night in the hotel, when Max had turned me down. Since then, the desire had been locked away in a trunk, wrapped with chains, and dropped into the deepest, darkest part of the ocean. But Ben and I had talked about this… he knew what even just asking would mean.

Nothing less than everything, would be acceptable between us if I said no to the condom.

The logical, think first, plan-for-all-possibilities, part of myself that’d led my brain and run the better part of my adult life, wanted to say yes to the rubber, because it was the responsible thing to do even though I knew that Ben had been celibate for four years, and Max and I hadn’t been together in months. But outside of the completely unrealistic settings of an erotic romance novel, a first time should always be a condom only zone, right?

Fuck if I knew. Military rules I understood. None of this was in my wheelhouse, but what I did know, was that we’d both agreed that barebacking meant an intense level of trust and commitment between two people. Maybe even a four-letter word I wasn’t ready to let percolate in my brain. Because of that alone, I should’ve hit the brakes so hard I blew the fucking tires out. Instead, I exhaled slowly, barely recognizing my own voice when it quietly said, “Just you… and me."

Ben didn’t ask for any further clarification, but his smile, brilliant and even hotter than before, assured me he and I were on the same page.

"Come on. We can barely fit on this couch, so it's not the place I plan to make love to you for the first time."

Love… Slow down Sam. He said he wants to make love to you, not that he’s in love with you… He’s just a romantic. You fucking know that. It doesn’t mean he’s falling for you. Doesn’t mean you’re falling for him.

Ben took my hand and my heart called my brain a liar and flipped it off with the same gusto Adelyn had, that first day we’d gone to the mall.

"Ben—"

"Nuh-uh," he said, pulling me into his body before he pressed us back into the hallway wall. "My place, my rules. Stop thinking and just feel, Sam. Lose yourself."

Too late.

I couldn't worry about it though, because Ben's mouth was on mine again, and his kiss was like a summertime ice cream; Just the right amount of sloppy, and so sweet, whether you ate it right off the cone, or just licked the stray droplets off your skin.

My knees hit the back of the bed when we staggered into Ben’s bedroom. I wasn't sure if he'd pushed me or if I'd stumbled, but suddenly, we were tumbling into his bed together. Though if I was honest with myself, I’d been falling down this rabbit hole with him since the first time he’d called me on my bullshit on that bench, the day we’d met. With Ben's fingers teasing my sac, particulars didn't matter. All that did, was right now. This moment. Because when I finally stopped falling, I hoped to God that Ben would be there to catch me.

A sharp inhale rolled my eyes back in my head when Ben's fingers stroked gentle, lazy circles around my entrance, tasing the puckered edges of the rim. A growl I only recognized as my own because I felt the vibrations in my throat, tore from me when Ben teasingly flicked the already sensitive skin. My hole contracted hard, as unsatisfied as I was with the lack of more intense friction.

I questioned Ben’s sense of self-preservation when he licked along my ear, catching the lobe between his teeth as he swatted my hand away when I reached for my own dick.

“Tell me what you like.”

“What I’d love is for you to fuck me,” I said. I thought that was a solid answer, but Ben just smirked into my skin as he nuzzled into the juncture where my neck met my shoulder. Then he it down again, sucking up hard enough that there wasn’t a way in hell it wouldn’t leave my skin unmarked, though it’d probably be half hidden by my t-shirt. My moan and the spastic jerk of my cock agreed that at this point, I probably wouldn’t give a fuck if it didn’t.

“Mmm so you like that.” Ben’s thumb grazed over the tingling spot. “What else?”

“I’d prefer you take a self-guided tour. Start with my dick. Maybe have a siesta there.”

Ben's laughter warmed the skin beneath my ear as he nuzzled into me.

"We’ll get there. We have all night. Is there anything off limits?”

My exasperated growl as I pressed the heels of both my hands over my eyes to distract from the color in my cheeks, just made him chuckle again.

“Sam, I was a pro. That lifestyle is behind me, but I still have a very dirty mind, and right now, the entirety of it is focused on you. So, tell me what you like, so you can get what you want.”

What I want, no what I NEED, is to come like a motherfucker.

Aloud, I said, “I want you.” My tone was muffled as my hands dropped over my entire face.

“Uh huh but how?”

By now, I knew some of Ben’s mannerisms well enough to equate them with the varying pitches of his tone. Even without seeing his face, I knew he was grinning at me with that devastating combination of a sexy smirk, and boyishly genuine smile. That smile had probably haunted many a man’s mind in the past. I was just the newest casualty, but I’d happily own that status if Ben would just hurry up and own me.

Ben nipped my knuckles till I caved and moved my hands with a sigh.

“Except for the obvious, universal no-fucking-ways, like body fluids that aren’t spit or spunk, real violence, or degradation play, you have carte blanche.”

“Still living dangerously, even in suburbia,” Ben murmured, his amusement obvious as he licked across the knuckles of my left hand, before a skilled swirling swipe of his tongue and perfectly timed suction, drew both my pointer and index fingers together into his mouth. Mine instantly went dry, my brain shorting out about then.

If the way Ben sucked cock was even remotely similar to the filthy things he was doing to my fingers with his talented tongue, there was no way I wouldn’t pass Go the moment he had his mouth on me.

He released my fingers with a wet pop, and a look of such self-satisfaction, I was sure my eyes had to be as glazed over as a French cruller.

“The way you’re looking at me, that’s definitely a start. And you told me your nipples are sensitive,” he said, scooting down my body as sinuously as a cat, flicking the left numb with his thumb before his mouth replaced it. By the time he’d treated both the left and the right nubs to the same rough, sucking, explicit tongue treatment that my fingers had gotten, they were tight and as shiny pink as my leaking cockhead. Hard enough to etch fucking glass wasn’t a strong enough metaphor.

“I think you should definitely get them pierced,” he mused, pressing a kiss over my heart. “I’d go with you for moral support.”

“Moral support my ass. You just want to pick out jewelry together.”

I blamed my verbal faux paux on the fact my blue balls were cutting off the flow of oxygen from my dick to my brain.

Jesus Christ Sam.

Ben’s slow grin was proof positive he caught the unintended double meaning.

“Don’t even go there,” I said.

He smirked, but heeded the warning as he pressed an almost chaste kiss to the tip of my right nipple before his tongue began trailing downward.

His dark hair was silky when I sank my hand into, feeling no different than the silver parts, which was usually coarser in most people. I tangled the strands around my fingers when I felt him lick a slow, lazy arc around my navel. Nothing on earth would’ve prepared me for that being an unexpected erotic zone as he flicked the edges with his tongue. Though, to be fair, in my filthy mind, the movement instantly aligned in my head with what it’d feel like if that clever tongue was licking, sucking and spearing into my ass with that same dedication and ardor.

My breath released in a harsh whoosh to keep that shit to myself. Rimming wasn’t something I did often with anyone other than Max, because I didn’t trust random hookups enough to go through the right prep beforehand, but if it were Ben…

Our eyes met and he quirked an eyebrow, obviously reading something in my expression, even if he couldn’t quite pinpoint what. “Hmm…so that’s ok too. Good to know. So, is it still dealer’s choice, or do you want inside of me, or me inside of you?”

All of my brain cells were officially dead.

“Either…”

He looked amused, obviously unconvinced by the sudden smoker’s rasp in my voice. “Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t do boxes. I prefer to switch depending on who I’m with, and the mood my partner and I are in.”

“That’s more than fair, but if I suck you off, then it’s going to be me pushing into you, so so slowly after you pop, because I doubt your recovery time is any better than mine.”

He smiled and sweet baby Jesus, that smile would be my end one day.

“But I’d make it worth it…I told you, using my tongue on an appreciative man is one of my favorite things to do. You’re leaking so much,” he said, wrapping a hand around my cock so the precome beading my tip, slicked his palm, “that every inch of my mouth will be coated even before you shoot down my throat. Sound like a plan?”

There was no way he didn’t feel my vehement agreement in the form of my dick threatening to bore through his hand, and leave him with an erotic, bastardized version of stigmata.

"Someone likes dirty talk,” Ben said. The sing-song tone didn’t bother me because his hand began to stroke up and down my length slowly, watching my face as he varied the speed and pressure of his strokes to see what I responded to the most, which was tighter than most guys probably would’ve gone for, but at a steady speed.

Damn, he’s a quick learner.

“What if I admit to wanting to rim you for hours until you’re wet and screaming for me? You’re so responsive, I bet I could make you come just like that."

My teeth gritted hard. "Either fuck me now, or I’m revoking dealer’s choice.”

I wanted to sound authoritative. Ben’s snort told me it came off as desperate as I felt.

"Stay here. I need the lube. The headboard has built in secret compartments,” he said by way of explanation when he reached over my head with the hand not covered in my natural slick. There was a scuffling sound of wood, and a soft click sound, indicating something had been opened then closed.

“Today would work better than tomorrow.”

My snark earned me a cheeky grin. "Patience. Good things come to those who wait."

"And the meek shall inherit the earth. But they won't get laid."

Ben laughed as I finally took the bait and broke.

My arm curled securely around his waist to brace him. The fact he was kneeling, facing the headboard, made flipping him over easy. The takedown seemed to push more than one of his buttons as he made a humming noise low in his breath, fingers digging into my biceps appreciatively. “I keep forgetting how strong you are.”

I snorted. “That’s like saying you forget I’m taller than you.”

“Nope.” He grinned. “I forget, because you’re so gentle around your nieces, and protective of the people you care about. That doesn’t always translate in my mind as a man who can also throw me around like a rag doll. Which by the way, is extremely hot.”

“So, I can’t be soft and strong? That’s very archaic of you.”

There was absolutely no truth, or sting to the words, and Ben snickered until I covered his mouth with mine to get us back on track. With him naked and under me, every part of us was perfectly aligned, and I could feel how interested some of those parts were. Especially when I reached down to drag my fingers up his length, and wedged it between my cheeks, right up against my hole. I made a tight ring of my fingers to steady him at the base so I could rock back and forth slowly over his dick. I wasn’t trying to push him in yet, not with his size, but I was getting off on the way his tip dragged back and forth across my puckered opening, occasionally snagging on the rim.

The dull edge of Ben’s nails dragged along the skin of my hips, and my satisfaction when he shuddered in pleasure, was bone deep.

"Now I can't get to the lube. I dropped it when you went all American Ninja Warrior on me." His eyes met mine, and heat streaked down my spine like lightning when he smiled. "It's by your left leg. Pop the cap and warm it between your fingers, Sam."

My breath caught. I remembered the conversation on Maplewood's porch about taking orders when I wanted to. Seemed like Ben did too.

I obeyed silently, the cold gel warming quickly to match my spiking body temperature. When Ben held out his hand, I smeared some of the slick from my palm to his.

"Turn around and lean over," he said. "I want to see all of you."

My knees almost buckled. Not from the pressure I was putting on them, but because at that exact moment, my mind decided it would be a good idea to give me a full color visual of how I'd look straddling Ben's hips backward, ass offered to him like a gift. I hesitated for less than five seconds before I obeyed, pressing one hand into the mattress to brace myself as I got settled.

"Easy," Ben said, pressing a kiss to the small of my lower back. "Knees wide, Soldier. Wider. Hold it. Stroke yourself but do it slow."

Sweet Mother Mary.

I wasn't expecting Ben to roll halfway up against the pillows for support, and lick up my spine, following every nodule of my vertebrae as far up as he could go, before he took the same path downward. His tongue traced the edges of the intricately inked eagle on my back. Just like he had at Maplewood, Ben paid reverent, but silent homage to a part of me that I’d carried like a self-imposed albatross for six years. A beautifully artful, visible manifestation of guilt meant to haunt, as much as commemorate. Ben was taking all shame out of it. Their deaths hadn’t been my fault. He knew that. With his lips, he was making sure I knew it too.

Ben's mouth moved on, and I braced myself hard with one hand on the mattress. Thoughts of anyone but him faded in the surge of bone melting desire that hit me when his voice urged me to wrap the shaking fingers of my free hand around my cock. My palm was cooler than the shaft, and I hissed in surprise. My skin tingled with awareness from the rough texture of the trigger calluses on my fingers. I knew what my own touch felt like. Having willingly played monk for months, I’d become especially familiar with how to get myself off. But getting off for Ben, because he wanted me to? Nothing could surpass that.

With my back to him, Ben couldn't see the way my cock wept, giving me more lubricant to keep a steady glide up and down my aching length. He didn't seem to mind the lack of visuals. Words of praise fell from his lips like depraved prayers.

My groan was muffled against the inside of my arm when Ben moved his hand with mind-bending slowness along my spine, tasing along my taint till he found what he was looking for. Warm, slippery fingers tested the resistance of my ring, and I growled when his other hand stopped my hips from pushing back. Again and again, Ben alternated between lightly tapping, and drawing lazy, teasing circles around my hole, and along the sensitive skin where my ass met my thigh. He repeated the erotic circuit over and over, until I was sure I’d lose my damn mind. By the time he slid one finger into me slowly, testing the waters, screaming in frustration was becoming a tempting option.

I growled instead.

Ben ignored me as he immediately withdrew, then slowly worked it back that single digit back in, up to his knuckle this time, brushing against my balls in the process.

It felt sensual. Tender. Amazing.

It also wasn’t going to fucking fly.

As much as I appreciated the consideration, I wanted him now. He’d proven that he could play me like a damn violin, but right now, that professional control of his needed to snap, so he’d put me under him hard. It might’ve been a while since I’d last done this— I’d been on top the last time I’d slept with Max—but we switched often enough that I was familiar with the drill. The initial stinging stretch always felt a little weird, but I knew how quickly it’d feel amazing once we got to two fingers, and Ben found my prostate. Knowing his past life, I had full confidence it’d be quick, if he hadn’t been so intent on moving at the pace of a goddamn, geriatric turtle.

We’d been going down this path for weeks, and I was tired of waiting to see the wizard. Dorothy’s acceptance that there was no place like home, had saved her. Right here, in this moment that was an entire wormhole ride away from the wholesome, technicolor film that had captivated America with her mantra, I knew I’d finally found home.

Ben's surprised protest bled into a groan when I slid my own hand back, crowding his at a slightly awkward angle to push two fingers hard into my body beside his. I wasn’t going for finesse, and with only the thinnest layer of lube still on my hands, the fit was too tight. It burned like hell, and I hissed. I also didn’t stop. I wanted that burn. It kept me grounded, right in this moment. I didn’t like pain when it was accompanied by violence, but in bed, a little sting kept me focused, even as it sent me soaring.

I felt the shudder vibrate through Ben's skin when he quickly removed his finger, and curled both hands into my hips so hard I felt the bite of his blunt fingernails. I was probably going to have bruises in the shape of his fingers there tomorrow. It was all good. They’d go with the hickey he’d left on my neck. The pressure of his hands increased with every exhale, as if he was trying to keep himself centered while I finger fucked myself. There wasn’t a doubt in my lust focus mind, that he was watching the way my rim stretched wider around my fingers as I scissored them, working myself open. The angle wasn’t ideal to stroke directly over my prostates, but even that faint, maddening sideswipe was enough to make my breath hitch, getting me closer to the point of no return. I knew Ben caught it, was reading it for what it was, because he abruptly moved my hand away.

“I need to be inside you when you come, Sam, but I want to see your face."

The hazel of Ben’s eyes glowed with catlike amber intensity when I immediately rearranged myself to face him. His thick cock pressed upward against his belly, curved a little toward the tip, nestled in a neat patch of dark hair. He must've been first in line the day that God had been handing out generous gifts. Or maybe, he was a gift meant just for me.

I fumbled in the tangled sheets to find the bottle of lube. It immediately slipped out of my hand. Ben grinned when I swore. To avoid a repeat, I tossed it to him so I could wipe my hand clean and dry on a corner of the sheet. He caught it easily. Thank God we’d opted out of the condom, because that little foil wrapper would’ve been a bitch to open unless I’d used my teeth.

When I held up my hand, crooking my fingers to indicate I wanted him to squirt more lube on my hand so I could get him slick, Ben shook his head, and kept the bottle out of my reach. Then the motherfucking tease, had the audacity to offer me the sweetest smile that crinkled his eyes so boyishly, I wouldn’t have been surprised to actually see a fucking halo appear around his head.

"I’ll do it. If you touch me, I won't be able to control myself. It’s been too long."

A halo held up by his horns.

"I don't care."

He smiled at the belligerent desperation in my voice. "Yes, you do. And I liked what you were doing before, but I want to see your expression match the responses of your body. Keep stretching yourself while I calm down a little."

Yes, sir.

My cock saluted when Ben squirted more slick into my hands. While he watched, I rubbed my fingers together to coat them generously, before reaching around to work them into my own ass again. This time I went slow, verbally narrating the entry of each one aloud, more for his benefit then mine. I scissored them at two, and groaned Ben’s name. The third finger caught on the edge of my rim before my body sucked it in, sending a streak of pleasure racing up my spine. I barely managed to get the tip of my pink into the mix, but physical pain was something I was familiar enough with, that I could use it to my advantage sexually when I was this worked up. Hearing Ben pant an endless, encouraging stream of Spanish endearments, was worth the almost too extreme stretch.

With his eyes on mine amping up the physical and emotional link between us, it wasn't difficult to find a rhythm that whipped me to a frenzied edge again.

I’d been jerking off since I was fourteen, and using my fingers in addition after I’d gotten my hands on decent porn at sixteen. The problem was that Ben was a quick study, and his knowledge of my body, and my kinks, just kept growing.

“That’s it, Sam. You look so good, cariño. I love watching your body try and adjust for all those fingers. Is it going to fight my cock just as much? Am I going to have to push in hard, while I kiss you so deeply your toes curl?”

The steadying hand Ben curled around my hip, was all that kept me from falling over when I hastily yanked hard at my balls to stave off my orgasm before it could roll me like a tsunami from his filthy monologue.

Holy. Fuck.

"Stroke yourself, Sam." Ben’s command was unnecessary because I’d already wrapped my own fingers around the base of my cock in a tight ring. "I got you. Show me what gets you off, mi vida."

My hole clenched around my still embedded fingers when trusted my body enough to drag my other hand down up and down my cock slowly, rubbing beneath the bell end. The edge of my thumbnail dragged hard through my slit the way I liked. I saw Ben's eyes tracking the movements.

"Do you know how many times I've pictured this?" His voice was almost reverent, and I could feel my flush deepening. "You, completely at my mercy, because you made the choice?"

My rhythm was thrown off when Ben abruptly sat up, ab muscles clenching. He caught my face between his hands, angling my mouth closer for a maddeningly gentle kiss against the seam of my lips.

"Don't stop touching yourself. Keep going, baby."

Coming from Ben, the endearment didn't bother me the way it did with Max who used it casually with everyone. It felt like it meant something when Ben said it, amping up the new intimacy between us as it highlighted yet another difference between the only two men that I’d ever…

I caught myself before the word could even form in my head and focused instead of what I could control; the speed of my hand, how hard I squeezed. Ben’s gasped name was a warning when I felt my balls tighten up as I jerked myself harder and faster. Ben must've felt the change in my rhythm for what it was, because his teeth nipped my lower lip hard, adding another level of overwhelming sensation.

"Deep down, Sam, you want someone to take care of you the way you look after everyone else. You want to let go, and you're going to do it right now, because you want to show me how well you willingly follow every one of my orders."

"Fuck!"

My orgasm hit me with the same ferocity as the claps of thunder that were breaking open the sky outside the safety of Ben’s bedroom. Ribbons of white exploded from my cock, splattering over Ben's smooth golden skin like a perverse Pollock painting.

My cum was sticky and warm when Ben rolled my still sensitive body beneath his, kissing me hard enough to mash our teeth together. My ears were ringing, but Ben didn’t let me come down from the high. He worked me through the aftershocks with kisses that were demanding, but gentle at the same time, encouraging the waves of pleasure to keep looping.

I'd been around the block more than a few times, and not one of those hookups had ever kissed me the way Ben did. It was tragic for the rest of the world that he wouldn’t be sharing that knowledge with anyone else. What he did with the press of his mouth, and the teasing game of chase with his tongue, cemented my earlier mantra of mine.

“I want you to fuck me," I said, not caring about how raw my voice was, or about the warm, sticky mess congealing between our bodies. All that mattered was getting Ben inside me.

"Ask, and you shall receive."

I wanted to say, since motherfucking when, but then Ben pushed a pillow beneath my hips, and details stopped mattering.

His mouth captured mine in a fierce kiss that was all tongue and heat, and when he settled between my thighs, my knees immediately came up to bracket his hips. Despite the position, I fully expected him be overly cautious, and test how loose I was one more time with his fingers. When he pushed into me in a smooth, fluid movement to bottom out instead, my mind went into final death.

“Fuck,” I groaned, then groaned again, with a more frustrated sound when he paused deep inside to give me time to adjust to the intrusion.

“Fucking tease… Just give it… give to me.”

Ben clearly found me trying to top from the bottom with a fucked-out stutter amusing, but for once he complied. He pulled back just enough to snap his hips, before he gave me what I asked for, and started fucking me.

Slowly.

So. Fucking. Slow.

Sweat dampened Ben's skin where it touched mine, creating a gliding friction as he rocked into me. It'd been a while since the last time I'd slept with Max, and despite my impatient posturing, and all the intense stretching earlier, Ben was bigger than anyone else I’d ever been with, and my body struggled a little against the request to yield completely Fortunately, for our mutual sanity, Ben was nothing if not determined.

Gentle, but taking no prisoners now that I was finally in his bed, Ben withdrew, then slowly pushed back in, always pausing in between those short bursts for my body to adjust, before forging ahead. Once we fell into a rhythm, my body relaxed, and I moaned in approval, sliding my hands down the lean muscle in his arms and back. I tilted my hips up slightly to indicate he didn’t need to be this careful because I was more than ready. He ignored me, and when he swallowed my protests in a kiss, all I could do was savor the sweet agony as he worked each inch methodically back and forth into my body. Despite what I'd asked for, he wasn’t giving me a quick fuck that kept walls up. This was a slow, thorough loving that smashed through them, and made a clear-cut claim on my soul.

I groaned, holding onto the hard line of Ben’s shoulder for traction as I forced myself down deeper on his cock, my own fully hard again. The last lingering remnants of pain from the initial penetration, melted into pure, delicious pleasure when he completely bottomed out again.

He was going to kill me, but the epitaph on my headstone—"Here lies Samuel Trammell, a man fucked into his happy afterlife by a debauched priest"— would be memorable as hell.

Ben’s shallow thrusts satisfied me for the moment; just enough friction that I could feel him moving inside of me, while still maintaining that feeling of being stuffed, that I’d secretly craved a few times over the past few weeks when I’d been alone in my bed, with my own hand wrapped around my cock, and Ben’s name muffled in my mouth so no potentially wandering little ears would hear.

How the hell had I had ever existed without having this man fuck my brains out?

As if Ben read my mind’s sudden silently repeated mantra of, move, move, move, he interlocked our fingers over my head, and I squeezed them in encouragement.

Yes.

Whatever he wanted, I was willing to give it to him. And not just tonight either.

I knew the moment he felt that submission, accepted it, and didn’t look back.

Ben’s thrusts picked up speed, driving me hard, then bringing me down, only to start again from the beginning. Angling his hips, he awakened every nerve ending in my body, when he found my prostate with perfect precision. The constant beating each stroke treated it too, was wreaking havoc on me. Pleasure hit me like waves violently crashing against a shore cliff, making me teeter dangerously close to the edge.

I exhaled hard, trying to slow my embarrassing litany of moans by trying to single out the sound that always made me crazy when a man knew what he was doing. Usually it was subtle, easy to miss, but with Ben, every one of my senses was so heightened, once I picked it out, I couldn’t ignore it; the sound of my hole hungrily feasting on his cock.

It was less distinct than when I’d been wantonly fucking myself with my heavily lubed fingers earlier, but it was just as lewd, just as obscene, because it sounded like my hole was sucking on Ben’s cock with the same hungry need all humans have when they’ve been deprived of air for too long.

The reality made my cock ache, and Ben’s breath caught when my body tightened around him. His controlled rhythm went the way of foolish lemmings as he picked up the pace, plundering my body harder, and faster, as if he had a direct connection to my thoughts.

Each time I edged close to my orgasm, Ben changed the tempo of his thrusts. It felt like an endless circle of denied pleasure, and had I been able to slow my reeling mind, I'd have made a wisecrack about now knowing how he’d banked ten grand a night. But I kept my mouth shut, because it’s both a waste of air, and something I don’t want to think about. This moment was all about him and me.

The rumble of Ben’s vocal cords vibrated against my skin when he spoke into my ear. His voice was too low for me to hear it clearly, but the intensity in his tone relays the message with the same distinction it would've, if he'd been shouting. I may not have wanted to linger on the four-letter word that’d popped into my head earlier when we started this tonight, but Ben wasn’t shy.

I didn't know whether the searing line of pleasure that licked up my spine was brought on by what I thought he'd said, or by the perfect rub of Ben’s cock over my sweet spot. It didn't matter as I clenched down, trying to show him without words that if I had a choice, I’d keep him inside me until he was the one who decided to end things between us.

Ben’s rhythm faltered; a universal, telltale sign that he was as close to the edge as I was; one stroke, maybe two from spinning out of control. I seized the advantage. I might not be able to use the words my heart was still too reluctant to share, but that didn’t mean there weren’t others that could get the job done for now.

“Yeah, fuck, Ben. Harder. Don’t stop. I’m so close, but I need to feel you come inside of me. Come on baby, please.”

It occurred to me then that we hadn’t talked much from the moment Ben had actually slid inside of me. Apparently, the sex had been mind-blowing enough for both of us that we didn’t need to add pornographic dialogue to it. But right now, I was going for completely shameless, cock slut speak, because I needed to feel Ben break. I hadn’t been ready to come again this fast since my teenage years, when having a hardon, was a round the clock occurrence, but right now, I was so damn.

Ben’s hands squeezed mine as he pressed a kiss to my temple, then rested his forehead against mine. That small intimacy smashed through the last of my control, and pure sensation carried me through my second release. A stream of musky, viscous liquid only a little lighter than the evidence of my first orgasm, hit my chest and stomach, matting the sparse whorl of hair along my navel.

My body refused to relinquish its grip on Ben's cock, determined to take him to that same altitude I was soaring on. I tightened my inner muscles harder on his cock, locking him in place as I murmured his name, encouraging him to let go for me, begging him to fill me until Ben rocked to completion with my name on his lips like a benediction.

Clamping over his waning erection, I milked him with easy, slow rolls of my hips. We rode the wave together until our bodies stopped shuddering from the aftershocks. I struggled to find a steady cadence for my breath when Ben shifted above me, our fingers still entwined. I saw his expression change, and I swallowed. We'd entered that dangerous afterglow where it's easy to let your guard down and say things you'll regret later when you realize how vulnerable their truth makes you.

I closed my eyes, but still felt Ben's unspoken promises in every graze of his lips across mine. He didn't push me to respond, just pressed another gentle kiss to my forehead before he pulled out, then got up to use the bathroom. I was already half sleep by the time he returned, and wiped me down gently with a warm washcloth, before he lay on his back. I immediately rolled into his waiting arms, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex as I scooted down on the bed, so my head rested on his chest. Neither of us said anything when Ben brought our joined hands to his lips. As he kissed my knuckles, I felt my stupid heart give up its passport.