Finding Home: Halos and Heroes, Bk 1 - 18. Chapter 18

“Holding on is believing that there’s only a past; letting go is knowing that there’s a future.”

—Daphne Rose Kingma

The lenses of the rose-colored glasses I’d been trying out for the past few weeks, suddenly seemed distorted, colored black and white instead because of decades worth of complicated emotions that have never really fallen into shades of gray. I felt like I’d fallen into the Twilight Zone.

At an even six feet, Max looked a mile long as he stood on Sofia’s porch, looking at me as if no time had passed since we’d last seen each other in person instead of our FaceTime calls. In low slung, dark wash blue jeans and his heather gray t-shirt that said, ‘I’m Currently Unsupervised. I Know, It Freaks Me Out Too, but the Possibilities Are Endless,’ he was all lean angles and rangy muscle. Max had always lacked my bulk, built more like a runner than a gym rat, but I knew from personal, carnal experiences of being pinned down by those healing hands, that he was scrappy as hell, and almost as strong as I was.

His smile deepened as if he was pleased by my shock, deep dimples sunk into both cheeks, like someone had poked their thumbs into the soft skin on either side when he was a baby and still malleable. His hair was a little longer than usual, the way it got when he hadn’t bothered with a haircut in a while, and highlighted heavily by the desert sun, making it look more blonde than sandy brown beneath the porch lights. The dusting of scruff along his cheeks and upper lip were dark enough to perfectly hit that three-day old stubble mark.

Confidence radiated from him like it always did. Max wasn’t classically handsome despite inheriting the best genetics from both of his attractive parents. Biology had made his features come together to personify the ‘boy-next-door-that-your-mother-would-definitely-warn-you-about. Men, women, and everything in between, tended to fall at Max’s feet like dominoes, and he was always happy to scoop them all up. Sex appeal came from the soul, and Max had it in spades. It didn’t hurt that being a doctor gave him an intimate knowledge of human biology, or that Max had a very open mind, and it let him see past that basic biology, to be attracted to whomever he was at the moment, without any gender bias.

For another moment, I just stared at him. The last time we’d actually seen one another in person, we’d been standing almost exactly like this at the front door of his apartment in Afghanistan, before I’d gotten into the cab that had taken me to the airport. Max had hugged me then, with the same lingering ferocity he was hugging me with now, taking the initiative to put his arms around me, since I was still trying to process the fact that he was actually here.

I’d known that Max would show up eventually. I’d just assumed he’d called first to let us know when he was leaving his parent’s place in NJ. Seeing him now wasn’t what I expected to happen tonight, but after I shook off another, my arms rose to curl around his back, instinctively returning the embrace. Unexpected or not, Max always felt and smelled like home. I relaxed into his hold, his lips brushing my ear as he murmured, “You look all polished and shiny… If this is part of my homecomin’ party, I approve.”

His touch was so familiar that for a moment, when his mouth met my skin, a tingle of instinctive reactive pleasure that had clear parallels to Pavlov’s famous dog, rippled through me. Thankfully, I recovered quickly enough to step back before Max’s head could turn the miniscule degree required to make out lips meet.

He didn’t try and stop me, or force the kiss that would’ve been our usual opening move once upon a time. Instead, his perceptive gaze swept over me to focus on the hand I’d originally placed on his chest to gently push him back but was currently using to examine the black sling that was supporting Max’s right arm. It blended into his t-shirt, unlike the standard blue slings given by most hospitals, so I hadn’t noticed it initially. Now, I felt a wave of guilt as I remembered that yeah, he’d been shot.

“I’m all right, baby,” he said. “It’s mostly healed. The sling just keeps it visible and out of the way. People can be pokey about personal space, namely, getting’ all up into your own, even when you’re flyin’ first class.”

“What are you doing here?”

Max’s left brow lifted and held. I let my hand fall away as how that came across, suddenly registered in my own ears.

“I thought you were visiting Vera and the Colonel.”

“I was… and now I’m here because mama started breaking out the old baby albums when her little old biddy company came over to show them the differences between her baby boy who used to suck his thumb, to the family surgeon who doesn’t mind a thumb up his ass as foreplay.”

His lips quirked slightly at the corners, but a moment of uncertainty swept through his eyes. “I just decided to surprise all of you Sam. Didn’t think I needed an engraved invitation to come home…”

It was rare when Max let down that indomitable, devil-may-care shell that I knew he put up partially as a defense mechanism because it kept most people from getting too close. Despite the fact that his bed was rarely empty, I knew that past A.J and me, Max’s circle of close friends was practically nonexistent. He’d always been popular both as kid and in our adult lives, outgoing and charming, able to hold court anywhere. Keeping the circle small was a deliberate, personal choice, so when his smile faltered for the briefest moment with a flicker of what could’ve been hurt, I was reminded that in this house, I wasn’t his only family.

“You don’t. Shit, I’m sorry,” I said with a sigh. I tried to scrub a hand through my hair, but the stuff Tara and Addie had worked into my hair made it feel only slightly less sturdy than astro turf. “That didn’t come out right. Of course this is your home, Max. The kids and Sofia will be happy to see you. I’m happy to see you.”

I honestly was now that I had gotten past the initial surprise, but I was still working on getting my thoughts together to figure out how I was going to handle this. With some preplanning, I’d have had time to give Ben a heads up. As confident as he might’ve been in our relationship, as confident as Ben was of me, he’d admitted that Max was an insecure spot for him. I didn’t want him to feel like I’d kept this from him, but Max was here right now and regardless of what I felt for Ben, Max was my best friend and I’d just treated him like a dick.

“We’re all heading out tonight. Well, me, A.J., Sofia, Tara… and Ben... Adelyn’s watching Emma.”

Why the hell did you just hesitate? He knows about Ben.

“Ah… Now the whole lookin’ edible from head-to-toe thing makes sense. The hair’s probably a little extra crunchy.”

Max looked amused as the thumb of his good hand gently skimmed the edge of my jaw, following the line of my freshly manicured scruff. Max knew that my exterior packaging wasn’t usually a priority for me, so the tease was expected. So was my instinctive tilt into his touch, which I remedied less than five seconds after I caught myself.

“You should join us,” I said, watching Max’s brow lift again. “Ben and I are leaving as soon as he gets here, but A.J., Sofia and Tara, will be coming by later once A.J. get out of his business dinner. Ben’s best friend is the owner of the club we’re going to. Tonight is the grand opening. He has another one in Downtown Miami. This one’s in South Beach.”

“South Beach?” Max whistled low. “Impressive. Guess priests have a lot in common with ogres.”

“What?”

Max flicked my lower lip lightly with his thumb and middle finger. “Layers.”

The touch was casual, playful. We’d always been close, more comfortable with being physically affectionate with one another than most straight men were, even before we’d started sleeping together. Considering that Max had been out of the closet since he was fourteen, it was amazing that no one had ever picked up on what we were to one another behind closed doors, no matter how straight I said I was. Being joined at the hip had always been our normal, but now, it felt off.

I snorted to hide my weird sense of unease. ”Don’t start.” I grabbed the carry-on suitcase that Max had brought with him. “If you don’t have anything with you to wear at what’s allegedly a really upscale club, I’m sure A.J. has stuff you can borrow. Tara obviously had to take me shopping, but he’s been spending so much time in Florida, that he signed a short-term lease on a place about a half hour away from here. He didn’t want to have to keep dealing with hotels every few weeks when he’s down here.”

“Oooh? So, it’s like that now between him and Sofia?”

“It’s like something,” I agreed. “The kids seem okay with it. They love A.J. almost as much as they love you.”

“Well, no one can be loved as much as I can, Sammy. I’m special.”

“A special kind of something,” I agreed with a soft snort when Max dropped my old nickname. Only he ever called me that. It’d never sounded right coming from anyone else and even Max rarely used it after we’d become adults. Using it right now felt deliberate, like he was making some kind of point, even though his tone was flippantly on brand for him. If A.J. hadn’t said anything a few weeks go about how Max might not be thrilled about Ben and I being together, I wouldn’t be reading into any of this, but here we were.

“I’m glad it’s workin’ out,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “Sofia could do a lot worse, has done worse and we know A.J. can’t do any better. Very few women are actually into that five-grand splooge art he has up on his walls. I hope Sofia redecorates with finger paints.”

We grinned at each other at A.J.’s expense and I felt some of my tension release. We were fine. No need to read into anything.

“No, he can’t. Come on. Let’s get you settled inside. We can figure the details out with the rest of the crew. You’re probably going to end up with a mountain of Beanie Babies as soon as Emma lays eyes on you.”

The hand I had on the doorknob stilled when Max’s long, elegant fingers curled around my wrist. When I glanced up at him questioningly, his expression was an uncharacteristic blend of somber, and something else I couldn’t pinpoint. Considering I knew Max as well as I knew myself, not being able to read him right now put me back on that edge of uncertainty again.

“Wait, Sam. Can we talk first? Just you and me?”

“Talk about what?”

“Talk about why I’m here… Even though I’m startin’ to think that might not be the best idea I’ve had today. Or in a while for that matter.”

“No idea could possibly be worse than your seduction of those fraternal triplets. Two guys and their sister… that one still confounds me.”

Max chuckled softly and moved his hand from my wrist to throw it up in a cease-and-desist motion. “Hey, I was eighteen and they were college seniors. College is the age of hormone-driven experimentation and they were very, very close even before I became the filling in one interestin’ sandwich. Besides, they never touched their sister, just each other. Not my place to freak shame cause’ a good time was had by all.” He smiled, but his eyes met mine with that same unreadable expression again. “This… It’s important, Sam. Please?”

Max used that word about as often as I did for personal gain, so I nodded. After closing the door behind me, I gestured to the front porch swing. I dropped Max’s duffle on the floor, then sat down beside him. Max immediately set the swing into a gentle rocking motion with one leg planted flat on the ground, the other pulled up to his chest, with the tread of his sneaker balanced on the seat. I’d chosen the porch swing deliberately because I knew that sitting still was difficult for Max on a normal basis. Right now, whatever was going on in his head, was leaking out of him in rolling waves of an almost anxious energy.

“What’s going on, man?”

“You didn’t kiss me hello.”

The words were so blunt, I blinked. “Max…”

“It’s all right Sam. I’m not stupid. Well, on paper I’m not. But what does an advanced medical degree really tell you about a person anyway?” He laughed softly, then glanced sideways at me. “A.J. said you and Ben might be gettin serious, but I’ll admit I didn’t believe it.”

“Why wouldn’t you believe it? We both know A.J. can’t lie to save his life. His face always ends up matching his hair.”

Max’s lips curved into a slight smile. “I know. But considerin’ you’ve previously found religion only through fortune cookies, shackin’ up with a priest long-term seemed like a stretch. Definitely tough to believe that you’re so serious about this guy, that you’d turn down all this.” He swept his good hand down his body in a silly, provocative gesture.

Keep it light, Sam. You can keep rolling with this.

“You’re the one who pulled a full background check on him and pointed out even his license and passport photos are hot. Wouldn’t you be willing to get on your knees for that man?”

“On my knees, on my back, sure. I just wouldn’t make myself comfortable in his bed for too long. He’d probably try to exorcise me in my sleep.”

I grinned. “I don’t think episcopal priests do exorcisms.”

“Maybe. But that’s not the point.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?”

Green eyes met mine when the porch swing came to an abrupt stop. “You’re fallin' for him,” Max said after a moment. “I can hear it in your voice, saw it in the way your face softened when you mentioned his name earlier. And then of course there’s the fact that it’s pretty obvious I’ll be sleepin’ in my own bed tonight.”

I sighed because that was easier than focusing on the awkwardness that would just turn to anger if I didn’t check it. I didn’t want to be angry with Max. I’d missed him. But like I’d told A.J., he didn’t have a right to be jealous. He’d given me away a long time ago.

“Ben’s a good man.”

“I don’t doubt it. Past Devlin, I’ve always trusted your judgment, Sam. Sometimes even more than my own. But for relationships to work, you need shared denominators- Hobbies, interests, politics. What do you two have in common outside of some undoubtedly life-affirmin’ sexual gymnastics?”

I considered the question for a long moment. Not because I didn’t have an immediate answer, but because what I felt for Ben didn’t feel like it belonged on a laundry list to check off neatly. Then again, I'd always told Max everything and he knew that other than him and sometimes Devlin, I'd never gotten into meaningful conversations with the guys I slept with. Ben was as new a ballgame for Max as he was for me.

“Ben gets me. He’s a stubborn pain in the ass who kept pushing for me to let him in, to give him a chance. Hell, to give myself a chance. On paper, no, we don’t have a lot in common. You know I can’t cook for shit, but Ben should be on one of those top chef shows. Granted, he has shit taste in the already substandard genre of teeny bopper music and I can’t say that he’s managed to bring me around to the whole religion thing. But he’s great with the kids and Sofia, and he gets me to open up to him about things that I’ve never talked to anyone else about.”

“Things you’ve never talked about with anyone else? That include me?”

I leaned back more heavily into the porch, sliding my palms up and down my own thighs, feeling the lightweight linen snag against the trigger calluses on my fingers.

“What do you really want me to say here, man? You didn’t want to know about certain things.”

“How about you break down which ‘things,’ I didn’t want to know about Sam, because as far as I knew up till now, we didn’t keep secrets from one another.”

Max set the porch swing into rocking motion again, looking out into the darkness of the evening, eyes slightly unfocused. “Are you sure you’re in love with Ben?” he asked. “Or is he just a safe play because he’s already involved in your family’s lives and bein’ that he’s a priest, it’s unlikely he’s a liar, or a cheater. Stability can be very attractive when we’re feelin’ out of control because our lives have gone sideways, but it doesn’t mean that it’s a good thing. Not if it isn’t for the right reasons.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m sayin’ that I want to know if this is really what you want, because if you’re on the fence at all, it means we can still make us work.”

My stomach plummeted to my knees because that prickling sensation I’d felt earlier had obviously been my Spidey senses knowing where this was going even before I did.

I took in a deep breath, then released it slowly on four counts before shooting Max a pointed look. “Max, you were the one who told me to give Ben a chance.”

This time Max was the one who sighed. His fingers made it through his own hair much more successfully than mine had, tousling the strands already mussed from multiple long international flights.

“I know. I fucked up by thinkin’ you wouldn’t listen to me.” His expression softened at my obvious confusion, a rueful smile touching his lips, tinged with what on anyone else, I’d have called self-deprecation. But that had never really been Max’s style.

“You’ve never been serious about anyone before, not even Devlin. You and me, that’s the longest relationship either of us has ever been in.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“When you left the military…” Max paused, releasing his own slow breath. “You were in such a bad place, Sam. It was drivin’ me crazy that I couldn’t be here with you. Neither could A.J. and Sofia didn’t know what was goin’ on with your PTSD. I was losin" my goddamn mind man.... you scared the shit out of me before you left..."

He let that hang there for a moment without clarity because we both knew just how many hidden bullets he'd collected that night when shit had finally hit the fan before I'd officially been sent home. I also hadn't filled him in on just how close Ben and I'd gotten since then, so he wasn't working with the most recent information. To be fair, that was my fault, not his, but the rest of it....

"So, when you initially told me about Ben, I figured maybe a priest would be a safe bet for the support system you needed," Max continued. "It made sense for you to have a safety net you seemed to be comfortable with. I just didn’t think it’d get serious. I thought…”

“Thought what?” I couldn’t stop the gruff note that entered my tone. I sounded like I was pissed, but I didn’t apologize for it this time. Some of this mess was on me, but this, this was all him. “Thought that I’d never move on? Why not?” I lifted an eyebrow. “You asked about the ‘things’ that you never wanted to talk about, right? Let’s talk about them now. Let’s talk about how about you always made it crystal fucking clear that I loved you more than you loved me, and that I was never going to be enough for you…”

A level of hurt I’d rarely seen on Max’s face, flickered in his eyes. “That’s not true, Sam. You can say a lot of shit about me, and even us, that would probably be spot on the nose, but you should know, that that me not lovin’ you, is utter bullshit.”

“For fucks sake, Max! I tried! You didn’t want monogamy,” I insisted, doubling down, because, to hell with this. He’d made the choice to limit what we were, not me. But even as the words left my mouth, my brain took that moment to simultaneously return the scrap of memory from that night in the military hospital’s ICU, after I’d almost been killed with my team. I’d told Ben I wasn’t sure if my memories were real, or just the combined effects of years of silent desire, and too many hospital grade narcotics. I’d been telling the truth, but as I looked at Max’s face now, his full lips set into a tense line, the memories solidified and I suddenly remembered waking up—after the surgeries meant to put me back together—to see Max’s panicked expression melting into palpable relief. I remembered how that relief had felt pressed into my skin when he’d kissed me, not caring that my lips were chapped and rough. The look in his eyes back then when he’d murmured my name was similar to the expression in them now. That night, Max had tried to tell me he loved me. No… he had said the words…

I exhaled slowly. Enough of the haziness was being swept from my mind like morning cobwebs with a broom, that the details of that night were finally focused. Max had sat by my bedside, had kept watch over me. And he’d told me he loved me, but my palm had been over his mouth at that point to stop them, because the timing had felt wrong. I’d been closer to dead than alive and he’d been terrified.

That was obvious now in hindsight, but at the time, I’d chalked the three words he’d mouthed into my skin in defiance, as just the result of a freakout inspired by that traumatic event because he’d never said them again. Not that night, or the next. Not even at any point during the eight months we’d been silently monogamous, when I’d been the only one in his bed, even on nights we hit bars together. During those eight months, we went and left together, with no invites extended to any third-party like he often had in the past. It’d been just him and me. But he hadn’t told me he loved me. To be fair, neither had I, not wanting to break apart the reality I’d wanted for years. Not till that night in the hotel…

When you told him to lose the latex, and the hangups, and he turned you down…

“I know what I said. I know what I did. I was fuckin’ stupid, and I’m sorry, Sam. That’s on me and I’m sorry.”

Max interrupted my internal monologue as he shifted on the swing. When he turned to face me, the harsh rocking motion jostled us both, until I put my own foot firmly on the ground to get it back into proper position. I couldn’t control wherever this conversation might be headed, but I could control the damn swing.

“Sam, we were stupid, immature sixteen-year-old kids when we started sleepin’ together. By the time I realized how deep it went for me, knew what I wanted, you were in and out of combat zones I wasn’t sure you’d survive and I’d shoved so many random strangers between us, that we’d fallen into routine of low expectation and intense self-preservation.”

Again, not entirely wrong, but still…

“I told you what I wanted, Max. That night in the hotel…” I didn’t specify which hotel because Max wasn’t stupid. “I told you I wanted it to be just us-officially, because it had been just us till that point… All you had to do was say yes to losing the latex, man. I was willing to give you everything.”

Max’s lips curved slightly though the smile didn’t do anything to erase the defeated look in his eyes. “I know. And I should’ve said yes. Fuck, Sam, I wanted to say yes. You’re everythin’ to me, Sammy,” he said, the old nickname sliding off his tongue naturally this time. “I’ve never lied to you, but I didn’t tell you how I felt, because I wasn’t sure I could handle the expectation that’d come with the world knowin’.” He reached for my hand, curling his own tightly around it before I could shoot back with, a what-the-actual-FUCK response.

“Not your expectations, Sam. Despite every fuckin’ flaw I have, you’ve loved me every day, more than I deserve half the time. And you were right that night,” he said. “I’d have taken and would still take a bullet for you if I had to. No questions asked. No hesitation.” He swallowed. “But losin' the latex, bein’ together like we should’ve always been, would’ve meant lettin’ the world into what we had. And other people- ones who love you and know me- they wouldn’t have thought it would work. That I could be what you need. So, I chose to be a coward instead of tellin’ any naysayers to go fuck themselves while I fought for what I wanted.”

Those were the words that came out of his mouth, but twenty years of friendship meant I also heard the ones he hadn’t spoken aloud—'That I wouldn’t be good enough.’

Damnit, Max.

My eyes closed for a moment. I didn’t ask who he was referring to, because I knew. There were only two people other than A.J., Sofia and I, whose opinion mattered to Max. Vera would never judge her son. The Colonel on the other hand…

My exhale sounded tired. “I don’t know what to say, Max. Goddamnit, you’ve had years. Telling me now, when I’m with someone I care about, is selfish bullshit. Fuck, you could’ve said all this that morning when I FaceTimed you from Ben’s house, the day after Connor’s funeral, when I got shit faced. You had your chance, right then and there, to do this. If you’d been straight with me, told me you wanted me, that you loved me—”

“I’ve been tellin' you I loved you for years, Sam.”

“Yeah, platonically. Like family. You never said you were in love with me, Max.”

Though in hindsight, he’d put out feelers that morning. Until of course, he’d hidden them again beneath layers of his usual gentle snark.

“Like I said I was scared and that made me stupid. But you’re right,” he agreed. “It’s not fair to tell you now, but I can’t play by the rules when it’s this important. Consider it a Hail Mary play. I want to throw all my bullshit hang-ups about monogamy out the window and make things work between you and me.” A muscle jumped in Max’s jaw, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m retirin’ from the military, Sam. I’m here for nine days before I go back. But once I’m fully squared away in about six months, I’m comin’ home. Permanently. I already have a job lined up at Miami Valley Hospital. They have one of the best trauma units in Florida, and I think I can make more of a difference there than I did in Afghanistan.”

He stopped abruptly and just like that, the pieces began to fall into place.

Max loved me. Had loved me for years. I believed that, but there’d been a prompting event for why it was all coming out now.

“This is about the kid in the hospital, isn’t it? The one you killed?”

Muscles and tendons snapped crackled and popped as Max rolled his head around on his shoulders for a moment, then shrugged. “Not all of it. We can call it a catalyst, I guess. But I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a while. I’m tired, Sam. I know that what I did at the hospital was necessary,” he said, holding up a hand before I could chime in to protest. “But that’s my point. I don’t want to live a life where killin’ is sometimes a necessity just because it’s a Tuesday and some misguided teenage asshole decides that he wants to detonate a bomb in the ER.”

I nodded slowly. I could understand that. Hell, I’d embraced that mindset completely once I’d let my guard down and started looking at the world differently.

And you started looking at the world differently because of Ben.

I sighed but didn’t let go of Max’s hand. “You’re making my head hurt, man.”

“I’m usually just a pain in your ass, baby. Consider this an upgrade.”

My lips twitched despite the fucked-upness of this situation. The swing rocked as Max released my hand to reach down into his back jeans pockets, patting them until he found the slightly crushed pack of cigarettes he’d been sitting on.

It was more than half empty.

“I thought you quit?”

“If my mama ever asks, I absolutely did. But she’s not here and you don’t care.” He paused, his brow arching when I shook my head slightly after he offered me the pack.

“Wow. I guess Father Benjamin Santiago really is a miracle worker.” He offered me another rueful smile, then tossed me the lighter before holding the cigarette in his good hand so that I could light it for him. Once the edge burned red hot, he inhaled deeply. On the exhale, he said, “We’re getting’ old man. Isn’t settin’ down roots and leavin’ behind a legacy part of adultin’ 101?”

“You’re looking at me for the definition of normal adulting?”

Max laughed, his eyes gleaming an even paler green than they actually were, washed out by the deck lights. “Fair enough. So, to complete my misguided mission of righting past mistakes, what do you think about what I said?”

“You just unloaded on me, so you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Let’s start with me movin’ back here. You okay with that?”

“What kind of dumbass question is that? You’re my best friend, Max. Of course I want you here. So will Sofia and the girls. A.J. is a given, especially if he and Sofia figure themselves out and he ends up staying in Florida.” Which was my secret, most heartfelt hope.

“Ouch. You dropped the friend bomb. Guess that answers my second question about us givin’ a real relationship a shot.”

“You know this isn’t about me, Max.”

“You’re not that confident in your own irresistibility?”

He was teasing, but I could hear the undercurrent of tenser emotions beneath it. We both knew that whatever we’d been doing for the past eighteen years was over. But saying the words out loud would change everything. To give myself a few extra seconds to think of a follow-up that was gentle enough to honor twenty years of friendship, without giving him mixed signals. I wanted to put what we’d been, distinctly in the past, but I didn’t want to hurt him. Not when I still loved him in my own way. Silently, I passed him one of the ashtrays Sofia had originally started keeping outside for me before I’d quit.

“So domestic. Who doesn’t want to come home to that?”

“Ben and I lost the latex.”

The words left my lips before I could clear them first with the more sensitive part of my brain. Max’s eyes widened. Right then and there, I saw recognition register in his startled expression. Whatever slim hope he might’ve had for tonight, had just gone up in a puff of smoke. No other words could’ve been more obvious proof that we were over.

So much for a gentle let down.

A smoke ring elevated slowly over Max’s head, widening as it rose into the sky until it disappeared in ghostly streaks. After his body shifted to his side of the bench, Max just stared straight ahead. I’d seen that look hundreds of times before. He was processing. Possibly trying to regroup, even though we both knew there was no coming back from this. My heart tightened because I saw a chasm starting to open between us. I wanted to say something to fix this. Maybe put my hand on his shoulder or knee like I usually did when he was upset about something, but this time, I’d been the one to draw a line in the sand.

I huffed out a frustrated breath, but before I could think of a new gameplan, we were momentarily blinded by headlights once, then again, as two different cars pulled into Sofia’s driveway right behind one another. Even blinking through the brightness that sliced open the dark, I recognized Ben’s truck before I identified A.J.’s rented SUV.

Well, shit. The gang was all here. This was going to be fun.

I got to my feet immediately, meeting Ben at the top of the stairs. His smile warmed when he saw me and I felt his pleasure curl against my mouth when I slid a hand to his hip and leaned down to kiss him. Considering what Max and I had just been talking about, I knew that it probably felt like a kick in the nuts. A feeling I’d gotten familiar with each time I’d watched him go home with someone else. That felt like another life now, so I wasn’t trying to be petty. Ben and I just both deserved for me to be very clear about the new normal.

A creak of the porch swing told me Max had also gotten to his feet. I glanced at Ben when his head turned toward the sound. He knew who Max was and before I could even make formal introductions, he offered his hand to Max with a smile. Max didn’t hesitate in sliding his good hand into it.

“Hi, Ben. I’m Max. Nice to meet the man Sam's told me so much about. I could've used a priest earlier. My uber teen drove like she really wanted to find God." Max’s gaze swept over Ben, sizing him up even as he offered that easy, good ol’ boy smile he’d patented years ago. A smile that could sell ice to Eskimos as easily as it could tell you to fuck yourself when followed by the classic, ‘bless your heart,’ that was a birthright of all southerners.

"Ditto," Ben said with an easy smile as his fingers tangled casually through mine. Max’s eyes tracked the movement, lingering for a millisecond on our now interlocked hands before he glanced back at Ben.

"Heard you are friends with a club owner. Plannin’ for unholy hijinks to abound tonight?” Max parked a lean hip against the porch rail. "Or is that like a conflict of interest considerin’ you’re a priest and nightclubs are generally meltin’ pots for all kinds of interestin' sins?”

I cocked an eyebrow at Max with equal amounts of threat and exasperation before I glanced at A.J. who was still in the slim cut suit that he’d worn to his meeting. Not quite club wear, but that was probably what the garment bag over his shoulder was for.

“Roman runs a clean place,” Ben replied. “There’s no drugs or sex allowed anywhere in the club, and his people enforce the rules religiously enough for even priests to have a good time.”

I cleared my throat because there was an uncharacteristically neutral note in Ben’s voice. Time to intervene.

"A.J., Max is coming with us if you and Tara can get him club ready on short notice.”

My tone was light, but A.J. knew me well enough to read both the room, and the obvious edge of tension between Max and I.

“I’m good on the sexy enough for a club night, front. You know I always pack a bit of everythin’, like anythin’ can happen, baby." Max’s eyes widened deliberately, and he covered his mouth with his hand like a vintage pinup girl. "Oops. I forgot you hate that."

"He doesn't mind when I do it." Ben's tone was mild.

I wasn’t fooled.

Neither was Max

Had Ben been anyone else, Max's usual MO would've been to flirt with him just to get a playful rise out of me, but after our conversation, he knew Ben wasn’t a casual hookup and there wasn't a hint of playfulness in his manner. His gaze and Ben’s were locked on one another as if A.J. and I weren’t even there. I suddenly felt like a bone caught between two very hungry, territorial dogs.

"I've heard there are a few things he doesn't mind you doin' darlin….” Max showed his teeth and I was sure none of us standing on that porch took it as the friendly smile it was being played off as. “We should talk shop one day. Compare notes."

"Max, knock it off," I warned, glancing away from him just long enough to catch A.J.’s eyes as he shot me one of his clear, ‘tell me what to do here, Sarge,’ looks. He’d perfected them over the years we’d served together, when we’d learned to communicate without words. The only problem was that I didn’t know what the fuck to tell him.

Ben, however, didn’t miss a beat as his smile widened. "That sounds good. I'll be happy to give you pointers to wow the next guy in your life. Maybe at this great local coffee shop where Sam and I had our first date."

Goodbye subtlety.

Max's eyes narrowed. He’d never been one to start a fight, but after our exchange on the swing, he was hurt and frustrated. God only knew what that fallout would eventually look like. As it was, I wasn’t sure what was going to come out of his mouth right now when I saw tension ripple through his broad shoulders. I readied myself to intervene, but then he grinned, offering a two fingered salute.

"Ooo burn. Well played Father Ben, well played."

Oh, for fucks sake.

I was ready to call it a night even though it’d barely started. Thankfully, God threw me a bone in the form of a certain intelligent redhead strategically slotting his body between Max and Ben so he could hug Max himself. After listening to them exchange a few rounds of good-natured ribbing, I opened the front door with the hand not holding Ben’s and gestured my friends in. A.J. grabbed Max’s carryon, gently kicking his heel to get Max to walk into the house first. Ben’s head turned slightly to watch Max’s progress. A.J. took that moment to silently mouth ‘what the fuck happened?’ as he passed me. I shook my head slightly, a look of my own saying I’d explain later. A.J. shot a glance at Max’s back, then looked at Ben, then at me again, before he shook his head and rolled the small suitcase in. Apparently, A.J. was ready to get on my, call-it-a-night-before-shit-blows-up-in-my-face bandwagon, but for now, all our focus was on damage control.

“Oh honeys, we’re home,” he called out.

I heard female voices shrieking in a multi-layered cacophony of delight, first for recognition of A.J.’s voice, then at seeing Max when he obviously entered the kitchen. I could hear Adelyn’s crow of delight echoed by Emma’s with coral calls of, “Uncle Max is here!”

Yes. Yes, he was. And I had a fucking migraine.

“I guess you didn’t know he was coming?” Ben’s tone was still mild, but I felt his thumb rub over the top of my hand lightly.

“I had no idea he was coming tonight. Neither did Sofia or A.J. Max wanted it to be a surprise.”

“By the expression on your face, I’m assuming he was successful.”

“At surprising me, yeah, he was. But what I said to you the other day, that still stands. Moot point,” I clarified, then leaned in to kiss him again, deeper and longer than I had in front of Max. If Ben had been a lipstick-wearing woman, it’d have been smeared all over his face by the time I pulled back so I could get a better look at him. The motley crew inside could entertain themselves for a few moments. Max and I needed some space.

Ben was always gorgeous, but with a fresh haircut and that ever-present dark scruff intensified by his choice of monochromatic black, he could’ve stopped traffic. He'd left off the white collar tonight, though the high, mandarin cut neckline of his dress shirt was an appropriate replacement. Glints of gold lightened his hazel-green eyes under the porch lights, making them even more cat-like than usual when he swept me with a slow, satisfied smile, apparently approving as much of my outfit as I did his.

"Tara chose well. This is so many steps above desperate and needy."

"Make sure you tell her that," I said, laughing as I leaned into steal another quick kiss, my teeth nipping his lower lip. “I don’t want her to keep threatening me with the sheerer shirt. My nipples are for your viewing pleasure only.”

Ben laughed as I led him inside towards the kitchen which was buzzing with excited chatter and laughter. Laughter that Ben added to, when he got the same treatment, I had earlier, even though Sofia had the grace to blush over catcalling a priest. A.J. had no shame, but he was smart enough to use Sofia as a shield when he slid his arms around her slim waist from behind and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Adelyn was sitting right next to Max in one of the tall stools at the island, chatting with him about music, more animated than I’d seen in a long time. Max had always owned the ‘cool uncle,’ label and they’d been as close, if not closer than Adelyn and I had been when she was younger. The obvious delight on her pretty face was a reminder that unlike me, Max had never broken contact with my family for those five years that I’d been stupid. He belonged here as much as I did. His recent confession didn’t change that.

Max was leaning against the island in between Adelyn’s stool and the one Emma was perched on, so he could interact with both kids as he ate one of the leftover cookies he’d apparently been given. Emma called Ben’s name out when she saw him, waving another cookie in the air to include him in the lovefest.

Ben took the cookie and immediately broke it in half to share with me. My craving for carbs was still as nonexistent as it’d been earlier, but taking the piece of cookie out of his hands with my teeth, allowed me to flick Ben’s thumb discreetly with my tongue. The instant dilation of his pupils was worth the consumption of empty calories.

I was just beginning to chew when Emma said, "You guys look like my boy dolls when they marry Barbie!"

Adelyn chortled with glee when she jumped off her stool to whack me across the back hard a few times to dislodge the piece of pastry that'd taken an abrupt turn down the wrong pipe at Emma’s gleeful announcement.

"Uncle Sam and Father Ben probably want to marry Ken instead of Barbie," Adelyn said, lips twitching as she eyed me with delighted mischief.

Emma's eyes rounded. "Or Uncle Sam can marry Father Ben! Then he'd be our Uncle Ben! I can get my Barbies right now so they can get married!” Emma looked into Max’s eyes with a delighted smile. “Uncle Max, will you come with me?”

Max smiled, but I knew him well enough to recognize the tension that minutely changed his previously easy posture.

Shit.

Adelyn smirked at me, apparently inspired by God, to interrupt the moment. "From Father to Uncle... That's like Jerry Springer weird."

To quote A.J.’s favorite phrase, Jesus, take the goddamned wheel.

"You behave, you two sit, and you drink this," Sofia said, addressing first Adelyn, then Emma and Max, then me, all with the same motherly efficiency she handled most situations that were threatening to go sideways. She’d been friends with Max as long as I had, and just like A.J. she could read a room.

She set a water glass in front of me like I had for her earlier, her eyes meeting mine with mild concern in them before she patted my hand lightly. "Have some respect for Padre Santiago and some pity for your uncle Sam who’s about to have kittens."

"Oh, don't stop on my account," Ben said. "I feel like part of the family."

"See Mami, Father Ben would like marrying Uncle Sam," Emma continued to my horror, and Ben's obvious amusement. Humor, I suspected, that stemmed partially from the fact that a certain male member of our audience didn’t look nearly as keen as my niece about my impromptu nuptials being officiated by plastics.

"My teacher, Ms. Amy, says that boys can get married to boys now, and God still loves them."

"Your teacher’s enlightened." Ben’s smile was slow and lazy as he swept me with a slow look that was transparent possession to anyone with both eyes, and an understanding of hormones. "We'll have to invite her to the wedding."

"Okay, on that note, we're done with that," I muttered. "It's like Romper Room in here."

“I don’t know,” Max said, sweeping me with a look of his own as he chewed on his cookie. “Kinda feels like family business as usual to me around here. Though I admittedly haven’t seen Sof out of scrubs since… well damn, way too long to think about without gettin' depressed. Not since we were sixteen and you wore that pink lace business with the cutout.”

Max offered a teasing wolf whistle, grinning when Sofia sputtered, a blush crawling up her cheeks.

That outfit had been memorable.

“You’ll need to keep your eyes on her, A.J. A beautiful woman in scrubs is always sexy, especially when they like playin’ doctor, but a woman in lace shouldn’t ever be left unsupervised.” Max waggled his eyebrows at A.J. then gently tugged a strand of Sofia’s hair.

We all laughed and Ben accepted another cookie from Emma as I finally got a good look at Sofia.

Unlike Tara’s dress, only the bodice of Sofia’s dress hugged her slim upper body, held up by thin straps. Like we’d been informed earlier, it was a deep pink shade that brought out the color in her cheeks. It was indeed see through lace with a scalloped hemline that brushed her calves. Thankfully for my overprotective-brother blood pressure, there was another short dress layer beneath it, that came a little below mid-thigh. The effect was sexy without being overtly obvious, unlike a certain sexy, blonde who was dressed for a battle of the heart in red.

I smirked when I noticed that Sofia must’ve drawn lines in the sand with Tara about her outfit better than I had, because while her strappy sandals were the same nude color as Tara’s, they were her usual wedge style, not stilettos.

“You look amazing, Sof.”

“Thank you, Sam. We should all take a picture together later once A.J. and Max change, though maybe he should keep that t-shirt on as a cautionary tale.”

Max blew her a kiss. “Darlin’, if I start bein’ supervised, y’all would get bored really quick with the lack of vicarious livin’ through all my adventures.”

He winked as the rest of us laughed, then glanced at Tara, the charm turned up as he offered her a hand, apparently not having been formally introduced yet. Probably because my nieces had pounced him the moment he’d walked in and were currently all about taking up as much of his time as possible.

Max swept Tara with a slow look and I’d never been happier that he swung all ways. He wasn’t really interested—I could tell when he was just going through flirtatious motions—but if he was willing to temporarily forget about what had happened on the porch, so was I. Tara would shut him down quick, but at least it was a temporary distraction.

“Hey, I’m Max.” He grinned, fully turning on the charm as he deepened his usual drawl. Tara slid her slim hand into his and grinned back, not bothering to hide her amusement. She knew the game, her own Georgia Peach accent kicking up immediately as she swept him with an assessing look that he returned.

"Tara. Nice to meet you, Max. I've heard a lot about you. Mostly that what God gave you is more lethal than that good ol' boy smile," she said sweetly. "Unfortunately for you, sir, rain on a tin roof pings more for me than men do."

I hid my smile in a cough into my fist as A.J. hooted.

“Even roastin’ a man’s heart sounds better comin' from a southern girl,” A.J. said, clearly of the same mindset I was about a distracted Max being the way to go tonight.

Max had always liked a challenge, so he was leaning against the island opposite Tara now. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he lowered his voice so it wouldn’t carry over to Emma who’d gotten out of her chair and was currently trying to convince Adelyn that her ice cream was deserving of more sprinkles. Addie finally got up to help her with an annoyed sigh, obviously more interested in the adult conversation.

"Ah, that’s right. I remember now. You're Sam's new fag hag... That's a damn shame. Sam can tell you I'd make it worth your while."

He smiled at me casually, then looked back at Tara, not missing a beat. "The night’s young and it's been a long time since I've been home. Sure you're more faggy than haggy?"

Tara leaned into his space, undoubtedly giving Max a really good look at the fair, freckled skin of her decolletage exposed by the dipped neckline of her dress, before she snapped the air above his nose with her teeth. "Type LES into my search engine, baby boy. My browsing history is a panties-only-playground."

"Man, I'm gettin' no love tonight."

"If it makes you feel better, I don't use communal toilets either."

Max's grin deepened until it became a full out laugh. He wasn't offended, grinning at Tara who was grinning back. Sofia came to his defense anyway.

"Hey, Max is quite the catch. He's handsome, funny, and a doctor."

"And if you want to live vicariously through another person's sexual hijinks, Max is your man," A.J. added. “Boy’s got stories and then some, though most of those aren’t for little ears.”

Max bowed. "Thank you, friends."

"If he was missing his d-i-c-k, we'd be in business, but for now you can be a doll and grab me another cookie," Tara said pointing gesturing to the plate by Max’s arm. "Thanks, sugar."

Max's grin was genuine as he reached for the cookie, then handed it over. "Ooh she's nasty. I like it. I say we keep Tara even if she doesn't like man-banana."

"Oh, I'm here to stay, handsome. What about you?"

"I think you and I are goin’ to get to know one another a lot better, because this is a nine-day visit that will lead to an indefinite one in about six months when I move back here, and start a new job in Miami.”

“You’re moving back to Florida?”

Sofia asked the question, but it was her daughters who started talking excitedly over each other as they returned to the island, both with more ice cream in their bowls though it was difficult to make out Emma’s from beneath the mountain of rainbow sprinkles. Judging by the spread, we were officially down one more container. Having a mouthful of colorful sugary pellets in her mouth didn’t stop her from running it though. She and Addie switched on and off, trying to get more information from Max with all the who, what, where, when, whys and hows they could think off. Max chuckled, addressing some of their chatter before he nodded at Sofia.

“I told Sam I’ll be starting a job at one of the best trauma hospitals in Miami. They pretty much hired me sight unseen because of my background, and I think the change will be a good thing.”

“Well, you’re staying with us of course until you go back. When you’re ready to move here, stay with us until you figure out your apartment situation. We’re a little less than an hour from Miami and we have an extra room though it’s a little smaller than the main guestroom.”

“We can switch rooms,” I said, earning a questioning look from everyone until I clarified. “I’ve been spending a lot of time at Ben’s anyway, so you should be more comfortable while you’re here. My room’s bigger and has its own bathroom, so there’s no chunks of girl hair clogging up the shower drain.”

Max held my gaze for a long moment that said everything, without one word even being spoken. His lips quirked slightly, just short of a real smile as I got booed by the indignant women in my family. "Sounds good to me… Thanks for the sacrifice, Sam.”

Tara cut a sharp look over to me with slightly narrowed eyes. She knew my history with Max and it looked like her therapist antennae’s were up. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I’d be grilled later, but for now, she addressed the situation at hand. "So, are we going to spiff you up so you can join us, Dr. McStudly? I think Sam and Ben are heading out right about now for a much-needed date-night, but you can keep me from feelin' like a third wheel with those two over there."

She wasn't subtle and Max picked up on it immediately by the way his grin deepened.

"Yeah, I’m joinin’, sweetness. There’s no way I’m turnin’ down an opportunity to hit a nightclub a priest is willin’ to frequent. It’s like the beginnin’ of the best kind of bad joke. " He looked toward Sofia without giving Tara a chance to respond. “A.J. and I'll be the envy of the club, havin’ the two most gorgeous women in the room on our arms."

“Oh see, I’m startin’ to like you more already. Nothin’ like a southern boy who can spin sugar into cotton candy with his tongue.”

“I like cotton candy,” Emma offered, her glasses smudged with nearly as much ice cream as the corners of her mouth were.

“As do all sensible people, darlin,” Max said, planting a kiss to the top of a beaming Emma’s head before he looked down at his arm where Tara had wrapped delicate fingers tipped with polish as bold as her dress and lipstick, around it.

“Are we gettin’ handsy now? Or is this one of those situations where I just put my hands behind my head and let it be ladies' choice?”

Tara’s eyes gleamed and I could already see the writing on the wall. In six months when Max got back, they’d either kill each other, or end up best friends who’d hurt my head.

“It’s always ladies' choice if you were raised right,” she said, her usual cheeky sass wrapped up in an accent so thick, it was more molasses than honey. “Now let’s move you along sir, because I have a very beautiful bartender to make regret not appreciatin’ a fresh full Brazilian and cream-colored lace.”

“Oooh got your heart broken did ya? That sucks, but one of my specialties is bein’ the sexy stand-in that’s completely safe for a, ‘man-banana hater.’” Max kissed the top of Emma’s little head again, then freed his arm so he could gently cover my niece’s ears with his hands. “Body shots are good for revenge optics.”

“Who’s the one taking the shot?”

“My mama raised me to be a gentleman, so like you said, it’s always ladies' choice. Granted, I occasionally I miss the mark of perfectly good manners, but it can’t ever be said I don’t at least try, even when success is less than guaranteed.” His eyes met mine again. “We’ll keep an eye out for you guys when you get there. Text me.”

“Roman will send them up to the VIP area where we’ll be,” Ben cut in smoothly, smiling. “Tara knows the drill. We should get going though, Sam.”

I nodded as I slid my hand into Ben’s and let him lead me to the door.

"I think we'd have made a cute couple with Barbie as our best woman," he murmured when we finally stepped into the blessedly silent warmth of the evening. "Very forward thinking."

"Emma's never going to let that go now," I pointed out.

"Girl right after my own heart then." Ben smiled when I opened the car door of my recently purchased, used SUV, for him. He slid across the leather seat to get as close as he could to my side. "So… do I even want to know what that was all about?"

I hesitated. Getting into my newly complicated relationship with Max wasn’t something I wanted to do right now, but Ben didn’t deserve to be kept in the dark.

“Max sort of sprung decades worth of feelings on me tonight.”

Ben’s brow cocked and held for a moment, before he nodded slowly. “And what did you say?”

“Other than he’s too late because I’m with you?” I smiled, holding his gaze. “I gave him my room since he’ll get more use out of it than I will. I’ll have to spend as much time at Sofia’s during the day as I can while he’s here because he, A.J. and I haven’t all been in the same place for a really long time. We’ve missed one another and need to catch up, but that’s as far as it’s going to go.”

Ben nodded again, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “You ok?”

“Yeah. It’ll be weird for a bit, but we’ve gotten through worse before. He’s my best friend, Ben,” I added quietly. “But I made it very clear tonight that friends are all we are now."

“Good. That’s the best news I’ve had tonight.”

That admission prompted me to look over at Ben again after I turned the key in the ignition, to see the tightness in his face that hadn’t been present when were inside. "Are you okay?"

"Not really."

"Want to talk about it?"

He paused then nodded. "Yes, I do actually. Is that alright?"

"Of course. I may not be good at opening up but listening I can do as naturally as breathing. One of the mandatory learned skills needed to survive in a household of women."

Ben smiled, then looked down at my hand when I slid it, palm side down along his till our fingers laced together.

"Remember how I told you that my youngest sister, Catherine, was having a baby soon?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Are she and the baby, okay?"

"They're perfect," he said with a smile that looked more tired than happy despite the positive news. "I have a new nephew. His name’s Noah Alexander."

"Since that's great news but you don't look very happy, tell me what's wrong."

Ben rubbed his free hand over the back of his head. "I told you that I’d have to wait my turn to see Catherine and Noah until all my relatives saw the baby first, so I could keep Cat out of the middle of the family drama she doesn’t deserve.”

“I remember that. Change of plans?”

He nodded. “She wanted me to come up first. Like within the next three weeks, because she wants me to baptize Noah.”

“And that’s bad?”

“No, it would’ve been great, but she called me earlier tonight to tell me that our parents want to be there for the baptism and told her they refuse to go if I’m there…”

My fingers tightened around his in silent support. "Your sister gave into the bully tactics?”

Ben’s soft snort surprised me. “Not even a little bit. She had more than a few things to say about it. Cat’s always been in my corner, so she told our parents and siblings that though she wants them there, she won’t do it at my expense.”

“She sounds tough. I’ll like her.”

“You will. She’ll like you too. She wants to meld our worlds together sooner than later. Which was why I told her that as much as I want to be there, I’ve already lost our family’s support and didn’t want the same for her, especially not when she’s going to need help with Noah while Raul is at work and she recovers from the C-section. Dealing with family dysfunction isn’t fair to her.”

“It’s not fair to you either, Ben.”

His throat worked as he stared straight ahead. "I know… But Catherine’s my baby sister. I want her to be happy. Me letting another capable man of God baptize Noah will keep the peace and I’m… as alright as I can be with that. I’ll just spend more time with her afterward. Otherwise, it’s going to be a mess. My mother might eventually forgive me having been an escort because I became a priest, but she’ll never accept that I’m a gay man.”

"I'm sorry, Ben. It sucks when people are like that. I'm lucky that Sofia’s always supported me.

"I know the world would be better off without your father in it, but do you think your mom would've liked me and supported us if she was still alive?"

“She would've loved you as much as I do," I said, rubbing my thumb along his hand. "Maybe Cat will be able to talk sense into your mom."

"Maybe. Sorry for bringing the mood down."

"Hey, I happen to know a guy who's better at that than you are and you're holding his hand."

It was corny, but worth it when Ben chuckled and tangled our fingers more firmly together. It was a cozy moment, so of course it needed to be broken by the sound of a cell phone. Mine, judging by the generic ring. Ben had different songs programmed for each of his contacts. I let the call ring more time, then hit the answer button.

"Trammel."

"Are you never at ease, Sarge?" A.J.'s voice was an amused whisper as it came through the car's Bluetooth.

I glanced at Ben. “Not usually. You’re on speaker.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m standin’ in the pantry, pretendin’ I’m gettin’ another jar of sprinkles. I just wanted to let you know that Tara and I are deliberately rollin’ our wheels slow as molasses after that ridiculously tense energy in the kitchen. Probably goin’ to need to burn a shit load of sage sticks ‘round here. Anyway, Sofie and I will keep Max occupied from now till we get there. Then I have a feelin’ that Tara’s takin’ over. I’m not sure whether to be amused or terrified about the idea of those two joinin’ forces on anythin’. But it’ll be entertainin’ for sure.” He paused and I heard a rustle of sound like he was actually looking for the afore mentioned sprinkles. “I better go, but I wanted to let y’all both know I still have your back, Sarge and I’m Team Ben all the way. I’ll just get Max very drunk tonight to keep him out of family-dividin’ trouble.”

“You know that’ll be easy. He doesn’t drink enough to be anything but a lightweight.”

“Yes, I do know that and so will the bartenders. Vodka shots can be switched out real easy for plain water for the designated driver.”

Max was a beer and whiskey guy when he did drink, so the ‘vodka shots,’ would be for A.J. I felt a surge of relief slide through me. Tonight, A.J. would step in and keep things together. I’d worry about handling tomorrow when it came.

“Thanks, man. We’ll see you later.”

“Aye aye, Sarge. And Ben?”

Ben lifted an eyebrow as he was addressed. “Yes?”

“See to it that the Sarge pulls the stick out of his butt and has a good time tonight. Make him shake what his mama gave him all up on you left, right and allll around.”

I disconnected the call just as Ben joined in on A.J.’s laughter.

 

***

—Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Music thumped from behind the closed doors of the club as Ben and I walked straight to the front of the line, much to the dismay of everyone forced to stand behind the ropes on a line that stretched around the entire block. The bouncer, a tall man built like a brick shithouse, with café-au-lait skin, close dark cropped hair, and velvety brown eyes, let us through with a grin after as easy exchange of Spanish to Ben. I got an assessing look that left me feeling even more naked than the three shirt buttons I’d left undone did, but there was good-natured humor in his eyes.

“The boss is somewhere inside. You want me to let him know you’re here, Ben?”

“No, we’ll find him. Thank you, Felix. This is Sam. My—”

“Boyfriend,” I said, offering Felix my hand. He accepted it for a firm shake, then grinned at me for finishing the sentence I suspected Ben had left open-ended for my benefit.

“My boyfriend,” Ben agreed with a warm smile. “We have more people coming later tonight, though I don’t have a set ETA. Tara, you know, but she’ll have Sam’s sister-in-law, Sofa with her, as well as Sofia’s date, A.J. and Max, a friend of Sam’s.”

"That’s no problem. We’ll keep an eye out and just send them up to the VIP lounge like usual.”

“Thanks, Felix.”

“It was nice meeting you,” I said.

Felix gave me another of those strip-me-naked smiles. “Oh, believe me, papi. Pleasure’s all mine.”

He and Ben exchanged words in Spanish spoken faster than even my fluent ears could translate, but I grinned anyway because I could guess what the gist of the conversation was when Felix laughed and winked at me as Ben nudged my shoulder firmly with his to lead me into the club.

The inside was almost as crowded as outside, which probably meant half the people who’d given Ben and I the stink eye for cutting the line, wouldn’t even make it inside tonight. They’d be even more irritated once A.J. and Max showed up with the girls, but life was rarely fair, even though most people forgot that. I couldn’t for so many reasons, the mildest of those being the fact that even now on civilian soil, in an upscale nightclub that was so full of beautiful people it made me wonder if Felix and the other bouncers were deliberately letting in only the most attractive applicants at the door, my gaze was sliding around the club that was more uptown elegance, than your typical strobe light, wannabe rave scene like a lot of Miami nightclubs. My gaze slid around the inside of the building as my eyes adjusted to the more intimately dim lighting. The effect was faintly industrial with sleek white and glass accents lightning the dark wood of the bar and tables. Bold green plants in oversized planters were scattered tastefully around for an organic vibe.

It was beautiful, but my gaze was already searching out every entrance and possible exit. Tension slid into my spine as I eyed the VIP lounge when Ben pointed it out. It was two flights of stairs up and there didn’t seem to be an easy exit out that way, but there was what looked like a smaller private bar and dance club up there, as well as on the main floor. The second floor looked like it was composed mostly of tall tables and a handful of couches probably meant more for those drinkers who wanted to people watch more than dance, since it had a perfect view of the main dance floor below.

My gaze slid over the bar staff as Ben led us through the crowds, memorizing the physical attributes that stuck out the most; the vivid violet hair on one petite female bartender with sandy toned skin, and the pastel rainbow colors in the hair of the woman working the opposite end of that main floor bar, who looked enough like her to make assuming they were probably related, a safe bet. With them was a tall guy with as much muscle as he had skill with holding the attention of his rapt audience as he served drinks with fancy bottle moves acrobats would approve of. Considering the overflowing status of his tip jar this early in the night, his patrons agreed.

I didn’t see Sloane back there, so I assumed she was upstairs, which was where we were apparently headed once Ben waved to the bartenders, then tugged me toward the staircase. We got put through twisted silk ropes at the top of the second landing, by a compact, attractive man who barely looked old enough to work here. The spiky tips of his dark hair were frosted platinum blonde, and he grinned at us with teeth whiter than I’d ever seen on any person outside of TV and film.

“Hey Ben. The boss is upstairs. Felix told me you’d shown up. Still have a few people arriving later, right?”

“Yes, Tara’s coming with three more guests. I gave Felix their names.”

I’d been listening to the exchange with half an ear, the rest of my attention still assessing potential threats out of bad habit, but when the younger man mentioned Felix letting him know we were here, my attention swept back towards him. Between the hair, the teeth and the black lace tank he’d paired with burgundy leather pants, he had a lot going on and it took me a second to notice the discreet, flesh toned wireless earpiece that he was wearing tucked into his left ear. It reminded me of the wireless radio earpieces I’d worn on covert ops to communicate with my team. Once I noticed it on him, my gaze shifted to the waitress nearest to us who was serving an order of shots to a table of young men who looked like they were enjoying a night out. She smiled as she laid out their drink orders: three beers, and something in a fancy glass that was bright red and more campily fruity. When she straightened up, I noticed the nude-colored earpiece that was barely visible against the fair skin of her ear, even after she’d tucked her thick blonde curls back from her face.

I hadn’t been close enough to notice if the bartenders on the main level were also wearing them, but the chances were pretty damn good that Roman had all his people networked in. Ben had said that he ran a clean place, but this was more professional and efficient than I’d have anticipated for a nightclub.

I approved.

“Micky, this is Sam. Sam, Micky.”

“Nice to meet you, Micky.”

“Nice to meet you too, Sam.” He smiled so broadly at me that his eyes disappeared into little half-moons, and dimples took over as his starring feature. “Felix said to keep an eye out for Ben and his super tall, super stacked new boyfriend.”

I didn’t think it was possible for his smile to get any wider, but it melted back to his molars as I watched. My lips twitched when Ben rolled his eyes and looked at me. “Welcome to the Island of the Misfit Toys. They’re all gossips.”

“That’s only because you and the boss never give us anything juicy to gossip about. He never drinks or gets out on the dance floor. Neither do you. Considering you co-own a nightclub, that’s just ridiculous.”

“I’m a priest.”

“Uh huh. One with an open mind, and really good taste in men, so it's not a excuse.” He looked at me with another impish smile. “Be warned, sweetie, the boss is going to grill you. He’s an overprotective pain in the ass ninety-nine percent of the time, but the Misfits needed a king to rule their island. He’s ours, though if you tell him that, we’ll all deny it.”

I grinned. “Noted. Any words of wisdom before I get grilled?”

“Are you going to lie to, cheat on, or otherwise hurt Ben?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Then you’ll be good.” Micky gave us another grin then waved us on.

I chuckled as Ben muttered something about the entire world suddenly wanting to flirt with me. “I’m glad I talked Tara out of the nipple-flashing shirt.”

“You’d have ended up wearing some random jacket from the coat check if you had,” Ben grumbled. “There’s Roman,” he said gesturing to a tall man who had his back to us so all I could make out in the dim lights of the club were a perfectly fitted dark suit and a smoothly shaved head. His posture was relaxed and he hadn’t turned towards us yet, but I had no doubt that his people had already informed him we were coming up.

“Come on. I want to introduce you."

Ben kept a possessive hold of my hand as we made a beeline for the last steps that led up to the private lounge area. I snuck a look at his ass when he had to let me go so he could mount the steps in front of me. That tight round curve was tempting enough to momentarily distract me, and I was startled when strong, caramel brown fingers came into my field of vision. I reacted on polite default, sliding my hand into the waiting one. I had big hands, rough with trigger callouses, yet Roman’s came close to dwarfing mine even though his skin felt smooth over his own callouses like he really believed in moisturizing.

"Roman Cruz, meet Samuel Trammel," Ben said. "This is the guy I was telling you about."

Since he didn't bother clarifying who that last part was directed to, both Roman and I said "oh" in unison, eyeing each other with instinctive curiosity that bordered on distrust stemming from caring for the same man, albeit it in different ways.

Although the military had considered my bulk a positive, at six-foot-two, I’d been considered almost too tall for Black Ops. My height made me it harder for me to blend in when the average height for a man was between 5’9 and an even 6 feet, with the majority of men falling on the lower end of that spectrum.

Roman Cruz would’ve never made the cut.

His massive shoulders and close-shaved head stood a couple inches above mine, putting him at a minimum of 6’5, maybe taller, forcing me to tip my head slightly to meet clear, gray eyes that leaned closer to an unusual shade of almost sapphire blue. They crinkled heavily at the edges when he caught my appraisal, deepening the subtle age lines around both his lips and mouth. I put his age at a little older than Ben, but how much was anyone’s guess considering that Ben looked a solid ten years younger than he actually was. Roman’s slow grin flashed bright teeth in that sepia skin, morphing his face from just attractive lines and angles, to sexy as hell possibilities. He knew it, too, judging by the shift in his expression as his posture changed, becoming more indulgent, almost lazy when he leaned back against the railing of the VIP section. Nothing about the man said off-the-rack, let alone someone off the streets with a prison record.

Like Ben, Roman had gone monochromatic in black tonight, from his crisp dress shirt and well-cut suit, down to the elegant gunmetal bar keeping his tie in place. But where Ben exuded an innocent sex appeal, Roman gave the impression of a panther about to pounce. At another time, in a different place, I might've been tempted, but I’d already drawn lines in the sand with my best friend, so this was nothing. I met the challenge in Roman's eyes steadily. For months I'd run away from Ben every chance I'd gotten, afraid to admit to the strength of the feelings I'd developed so quickly for him. But he still had enough faith in us to introduce me to someone important to him.

I squeezed Roman's hand with just enough pressure to make a presence, without being an ass. "Nice to meet you, Roman."

"Likewise. Ben's told me a lot about you." Roman’s Latin accent was thicker than Ben's, but still smoothly modulated so I understood him clearly.

"All good things I hope."

"Enough I let you in the door."

"I'll have to work on getting past the formal areas then."

"Might have to stick around a while for that to happen."

I shrugged. "Where Ben goes I go, so you’ll be seeing me often enough to start building a personal bio if you feel like it. By the way, good job on the communication,” I said, lightly tapping my own left ear, the same ear Roman had a tawny brown earpiece tucked into.

Roman's smile widened, eyes approving. I got the distinct feeling I'd just passed more than one test. “I’m impressed. Most people don’t pick up on it. But Ben said you were Special Forces?”

“A Ranger,” I said, knowing that Ben wouldn’t have shared my former covert ops status without asking me first. “I retired, but some old habits die hard I guess, like eyeballing any possible threat. I’m working on it.”

“There’s worse things than being vigilant, and knowing how to handle yourself.” Roman swept me with an assessing look, but it didn’t strip me bare the way Felix’s had. “And I think you can, so I approve. Anyway, it was good to meet you. Ben knows his way around, but if you need anything, just ask. I've already told my people that whatever you want is on the house."

"Unless you charge for tap water, I'm good."

"I like him even better now." Laughing, Roman stepped to the side to wave us toward the bar. “When the rest of your party gets here, I’ll send them up. Have a good time you two."

My response was drowned out by the swelling throb of the music as Roman melted into the crowds. I kept a hand on the small of Ben’s back as he shuffled us into a corner of the lounge closest to the bar, so we could put in our drink orders with the petite, auburn haired bartender in a black romper who smiled like she was a little bit of sunshine mixed with a whole lot of hurricane. She and Ben exchanged greetings before she took his order for a virgin pina colada. Aside from changing my own drink choice to sparkling water with extra lime, I kept to my word. I was done with the booze. I still dropped a hefty tip into the tip jar when Sloane, who I recognized from her profile photo, was the one who set the glasses in front of us. Considering what she’d be dealing with later when Tara got here, she’d already earned it.

Then again, bets were good that she’d be able to hold her own. I’d never been into women or leather, but Ben had changed my mind on the latter after seeing that photo of him from his working days, and I had to admit that in black leather jeans and a backless, cropped black halter top that reveled more inked skin than it covered, Sloane’s tip jar probably did just fine.

Tara would have her hands full tonight.

Amused, I looked back at Ben. “Roman seems like a good guy.."

Ben nodded, thumbing the condensation off the side of his glass before he took a long sip from his straw with a blissful look. "We've been friends for years. He had my back, especially when I was working. No one messed with me while he was around."

"Few people want to run headfirst into a solid wall," I agreed, taking a sip from my own glass. "Did you two ever hook up?"

Ben shook his head. "There were a few times that we were tempted, but we're a lot alike in some ways, and neither of us wanted to risk the friendship."

"Is that why Max and I don’t make any sense to you?"

"Maybe, though it's more likely I'm just jealous."

That was honest enough to make me smile. I leaned in to kiss him. It was light but not chaste, and Ben looked much happier when I pulled back. "You’re so cute when you sound like a teenage girl,” I said, protesting with a grin when he popped me in the arm.

"Ben, I'm here with you. Let me worry about Max, ok?"

Ben’s response was to lean in for another kiss, this one lingering long enough that my cock stirred, wanting in on the action. Unfortunately, its movement reminded me that I had to pee. As much as I hated to leave the smooth, warm recesses of Ben's mouth, nature called.

"I have to hit the head real quick. Can you please order another glass of water with lime for me? No ice this time."

"Sure, but hurry back. I want to dance with you."

"Didn't you ever get the memo that white boys can't dance?"

Ben leaned in close, his breath rolling across the upper curve of my ear. "I think you'll be just fine, but if you need some incentive, maybe I'll ask that guy to dance the night away with me instead. He looks like he never got the memo either."

He inclined his head down the bar and I followed his gaze toward a tall, bald white man standing at the other end of the bar. He was wearing a black mesh muscle tee that he filled out like his only 9-5 job was at a gym. Even from here, I could see that every inch of skin beneath those short sleeves was wrapped up in vivid, inked color that ended at his wrists. As if he felt our stares, the guy turned. His slow grin swept both Ben and me when he saluted us with his drink. After Ben toasted the air with his own glass, I slid my fingers under his jaw to bring that mischievous smile back toward me. I could feel his lips curve happily against my mouth as I kissed him like I was the only man with any right to. When I pulled back and glanced over at the other end of the bar, my potential competition had disappeared. It was hard to decide who seemed more satisfied about that—Ben or me.

His fingers stroked my cheek. "Go, Sam. I'll be waiting for you."

That sense of satisfaction curled deeper in my belly. I kept it with me, warm and comfortably possessive, as I headed into the crowded men's room. After all bodily functions were accounted for and my hands smelled like the generic pink bathroom soap, I made my way back to the lounge area. Ben was still sitting where I'd left him. Smiling, I moved toward him. I felt the smile slip a bit when I noticed two things. One, Ben wasn't alone. Two, the guy with him was sitting intimately close on the stool beside my boyfriend’s, a too-familiar hand resting on Ben's knee.

That possessive feeling was back in spades when I got closer and saw how tight Ben's jaw was set. His nostrils flared, those broad shoulders tense when he shifted his body to get the man’s hand to slide off of his knee. Every part of his bearing screamed, "back the fuck off," but his new friend wasn't getting the hint.

Older than Ben, he was handsome in a nondescript sort of way; medium height and all neutral colors from pale skin despite the balmy climate, to light brown hair and eyes. Even his khakis and white guayabera shirt were nonthreatening. From here, I couldn’t see anything about him to justify Ben’s reaction. But when I was halfway to the bar, I saw the man lean in at the same time Ben reached up to block the hand that’d been stretching toward his temple. Even through the loud hum of the club, I heard the thump of the stool as it slammed into the wall in Ben's his haste to put space between them as he scrambled off of it.

"Ben?"

At the same time, the other man said, "Now we're talking."

I frowned, looking between him and Ben. When Ben didn't introduce us like he had every other person who knew him, I held out my left hand, my right moving discreetly to the small of Ben’s back where I could feel tension coiled tight as a bow string

"Hey, I’m Sam Trammel," I said, handling introductions myself.

The man stood as he slid his hand into mine, the texture of his skin clammy, only a smidgen less oily feeling than his smile was. "Michael Armstead. Nice to meet you."

Michael was a nice, traditional name. Nothing smarmy, even though the guy said his name with the arrogance of a man who thought it meant something important enough for me to feel flattered as his gaze swept my body. That sharklike hunger lingered on my chest, then my crotch, for long enough to let me know just how much he enjoyed the view.

It was difficult to resist the instinct to wipe my hand off on my shirt when Michael let go. Instead, I brushed my thumb across Ben’s jaw. He didn’t meet my eyes and I frowned, but kept my hand on his back as I returned my attention to Michael.

“Same here. How do you and Ben know one another?"

Michael grinned, flashing teeth so perfect, they had to be capped. "The same way you do no doubt. Though I'd heard rumors that Ben had stopped taking clients." His fingertips traced across Ben’s wrist before Ben moved his hand and shifted a little closer to me.

Clients? I looked over at Ben for clarification. He swallowed hard. When he spoke, his voice was colder than I'd ever heard it.

"You heard right. I've been out of the life for years.”

“Oh? So, this isn’t a date?”

The lilt to his tone made it crystal clear what type of date Michael was hoping this was, and I felt something gnawing restlessly at my insides. Not exactly jealousy, but close enough that when added to my natural protective instincts, it was a can of worms this asshole really didn’t want to open.

“It is a date. I’m his boyfriend,” I said with an easy smile I knew didn’t reach my eyes as I inserted myself solidly between them to keep Michael’s hands off of Ben .

"Boyfriend?"

"Yeah," I said again. “His boyfriend, so I think it's time you walked away, Michael."

"Listen, Sam, I don't know what your boyfriend here has told you, but he and I have a long history, so I have a business proposition for him. If you want to join in, I'll pay double."

It took all my self-control not to punch the guy right in his smug, smiling face. His eyes were glassy, hinting to just how drunk he probably was. I didn’t care. Being three sheets to the wind wasn’t an excuse for the way he was talking to Ben. Ben, who never said a word in his own defense. From my peripheral vision, I could tell his eyes were focused on the floor, not looking at Michael or me. I was good with him ignoring the asshole who couldn’t seem to take a hint, but not looking at me…that uncharacteristic reaction roused something visceral in me. I hated bullies, and no one fucking put baby in a corner.

Michael’s eyes met mine and I could smell the whiskey on his breath when he stepped forward until he was almost toe-to-toe with me like I'd back down.

I didn't.

"I want to finish my conversation with Ben, if you don’t mind."

"I do mind, and I definitely want to knock you on your ass," I responded evenly, aware that we were starting to get a few looks cast our way. I was hoping to de-escalate the situation before Roman’s people had to intervene, but Micheal wasn’t making this easy. "However, this isn't the time or the place. So, if you'll excuse us, we have better places to be. Come on baby,” I said to Ben, my hand still on his back to lead him away from the bar.

Michael’s eyes narrowed. I had only a moment to realize what he meant to do before he reached around me to grab Ben's arm. Ben's hand instinctively came up to block him. I grabbed Michael’s shoulder at the same time to push him back. I was trying to end the fight he’d started as quickly as possible, but the fucker was either too drunk, or too stupid to consider the possible consequences of taking a swing at someone who had a half foot of height, and a lot more muscle on him.

I dodged his first swing easily, then blocked his even clumsier second just as effortlessly. After years of training hand to hand with men who could’ve taken my head off in their sleep if they’d been inclined, a guy who was slurring his string of profanity would be easy to neutralize with one solid right hook to the face. I restrained myself, blocking his third attempt with my left arm instead. Unfortunately, Michael didn’t get the hint. When he came at me again, I stepped back like I was going for a fourth round of our dance, before I ducked and swung low to ram my fist into a belly that was softer than was healthy for his age. Michael doubled over with a grunt. I tangled my hand in his hair as I straightened up, using the momentum to slam his face into the polished bar top, though I pulled the movement back just enough at the last minute, to prevent shattering anything in Michael’s face when it made contact with the unyielding wood.

I heard someone scream, but nobody in the crowd of patrons was making a move toward us. I met Sloane’s eyes as I released my hold on Michael who slumped against the bar, obviously dazed. I held up my hands in silent mea culpa, though my apology was for the disruption our violent interaction had caused, not for the act itself.

Ben’s face had lost a few shades of color when I turned to brush my hand over his jaw. “Come on,” I said again. He nodded, his hand curling tightly in mine when I reached for him. He let go almost immediately, eyes widening as he shouted, “Behind you!”

With the humming auditory backdrop of the anxious onlookers, I hadn’t heard the tell-tale sound of glass breaking, but the quick glance I cast over my shoulder zeroed in on the jagged edge of the broken beer bottle in Michael’s right hand. I’d had my back to him, so I was a millisecond slower than Ben was when he awkwardly threw himself between Michael and I to keep me from getting blitzed from behind. He’d been trying to help, but his loyal interference changed the dynamics, escalating the situation when Michael shoved him hard enough out of the way to make Ben stumble back. He hit the floor with a pained sound.

I heard more people crying out in alarm, and saw Sloane moving from her place behind the bar, ready to help. Unfortunately, I was faster. I was also done with soft-balling this son-of-a-bitch.

Spittle frothed at the edges of Michael’s mouth as he came at me again. This time, I ducked easily when he sung the broken end of the bottle in my direction. I shifted right then left, with a smooth step back each time he swung, trying to get Michael closer to me, and away from both Ben, and the other patrons at the bar. When Michael hyperextended his am in his rage, I caught him at the wrist and rotated it back with a smooth follow though of violence so the bottle fell to the floor as the nerves in his arm went numb. It shattered at my feet, but I ignored the splintered glass as I kept hold of Michael’s arm between both my hands, using my centralized strength to twist his wrist at a completely unnatural angle for any happy human anatomy. I felt the fragile bones beneath his skin rupture like matchsticks when I snapped my hands down, but even if my ears hadn’t picked out that sound among the raised voices around us and the pumping music, Michael’s pained shout made it very clear I was over this asshole.

More glass shattered as drinks went flying to the ground when people scattered from the surrounding coaches with surprised screams after I shoved Michael back one last time. With his broken wrist, he wasn’t able to control his equilibrium and he crashed back into the nearest table. The sleek white top collapsed, and Michael sprawled, dazed and in pain amidst the mess.

The people around us were a background of startled chaos, calling for help. Whether it was for me or for Michael, I didn’t know, or care. Crimson red had replaced my rose-colored leanings for now, because he’d hurt Ben.

I didn’t feel myself move, but I was suddenly pinning Michael to the ground, one hand locked around his throat, and a knee pressed into his chest as I silently dared the asshole to try and get up again. I could feel rage coiling along my spine, wanting to explode outward. It urged me with silent fury to release the motherfucking Kraken. After growing up with the shit kicked out of me on a regular basis by my father, hair trigger violence had been a part of my life that had continued for years. The military had harnessed that propensity to violence, nurtured it, and turned it into a workable weapon to fight their battles, and protect their people. I’d left that life behind, but protecting my own was never going to end, and I could snap Michael’s neck before anyone could interfere.

But if you take Michael out, you’re leaving here in handcuffs. Who’ll protect Ben and your family then?

I exhaled slowly. He wasn’t worth losing everything I’d worked so hard for. Still...

I forced my breath out slowly as I leaned over so only Michael could hear me over his weeping curses.

"If you ever even breathe in Ben’s direction again, it’ll be the last breath you’ll ever take, because I’ll end you. We understand each other?”

Michael grunted, his eyes so wide they showed whites all around, though I was sure that the pain made him want too squint. He’d probably tuck into a fetal position the moment I let him go. It should’ve made me feel some level of guilt, but my conscious was perfectly clear. He’d hurt Ben. No one hurt Ben on my watch.

"I said, do you understand?” I was dancing on a line I knew better than to cross, but seeing Ben trying to get up in my peripheral vision, solidified my stance on not giving two shits about optics until Michael acknowledged words so cold, it was amazing puffs of frost didn’t form around them when they left my lips.

"Yes, yes, got it." Michael forced out the words, his breath choppy with fear and residual anger I doubted he was in any shape to follow through on. I abruptly let him go, and Michael immediately cradled his broken right hand with the uninjured left one. I got back to my feet just as Sloane and another tall male bartender started ushering people back so they could get to Michael and me. I barely acknowledged them, Ben my only true priority right now, though I was happy that they seemed to be on my side when no hands were placed on me with threats of 911 being called.

I pulled Ben up and into my arms, though there was a small part of me that was afraid he’d pull back from me in horror after seeing this snapshot of what I was capable of. Instead, his arms went around my neck, and he buried his face into my shoulder as I slid my arms around him, running a hand reassuringly up and down his back.

“You’re ok, Ben. We’re ok,” I said, using one of his favorite phrases. He was shaking, so I tightened my hold on him until I felt a carefully cautious hand touch my shoulder briefly, before drawing back like the owner didn’t want to lose it.

I relaxed when I saw Sloane.

“I know how that asshole is doing, but are you both ok,?” Sloane asked. Her voice was deeper and smoother than most women’s, but it suited her as much as the ink and leather did.

“Ben’s shaken, but we’re ok. I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. The bar tops are lacquered so blood comes off as easily as spilled booze.” She shot Michael a scornful look. “He had it coming. He’s been a thorn in our side before, but he never got violent and his daddy is a big tech guy who tips well, so we dealt with it. This…” She shook her head. “No coming back from it. Roman’s going to be pissed.”

She offered me a smile that was all teeth, and my sudden amused levels of concern that Tara might’ve bitten off more than she could chew with this girl, overrode some of my lingering rage to dial it back a notch.

Ben lifted his head, face still pale. "Michael started it," Ben said, his fingers icy in mine despite the warmth of so many bodies in a small space.

“I know, Ben. We saw it. Your man was just faster than we were tonight. Are you sure you’re ok? You hit that ground pretty hard.”

“I’m fine,” Ben said, though there was a tightness in his voice I didn’t like, and made me wish I’d snapped Michael’s wrist in multiple places.

“Yeah Boss, we’re getting him out of here,” Sloane said, obviously talking to Roman on her own earpiece. “He’s going to need a hospital.” She paused and nodded, as if listening to what Roman was saying, before she grinned at me. “I consider him needing a hospital, not the morgue, a sign that God feels compassion even for the stupid sometimes.” She paused, then nodded again. “I’ve got it.”

She tugged Michael up to his feet unceremoniously, then pushed him toward the bouncer that came to join our little circle. “Roman’s coming down. He was in his office.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Sloane.”

The surprise in her face got a brief smile out of me, but I didn’t have time to explain how I knew who she was, because Ben’s pale face was the focus of my attention. She read the concerned tension, then moved back to the bar after patting my shoulder.

I tugged Ben away from the broken glass and mess by the bar to a small settee tucked into a corner of the lounge so I could sit him down on it.

“Hey," I said, turning toward Ben when Michael was dragged away and conversation around us began to settle into a steady thrum again as people started being herded away from the bar and dance floor by Roman’s people, who were moving as efficiently as any special ops team. None of them looked like former miliary, but I remembered what Ben has said about Roman having a soft spot for the lost and scrappy who needed second chances. The school of hard knocks could train people in very similar ways to the military.

My hand curled around the back of Ben’ neck when he looked anywhere but at me. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt when you fell?"

He shook his head. “I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting that..." He swallowed hard. "This is why I stay out of the Miami club scene." He still wouldn't look at me. "I wish you hadn't seen that."

“Why? You told me what you used to do."

"Knowing and seeing are two different things."

My thumb stroked over Ben's jawbone as I leaned in to brush a kiss across his mouth. “I could say the same thing….”

Ben nodded, leaning his forehead against mine for a moment. "You kicked his butt.”

There was almost a smile in his voice. I shrugged. “No, I kicked his ass because he laid hands on you. No one ever gets to do that.”

Ben’s fingertips brushed my jaw, but he didn’t correct my language. “What did you say to him?"

"Short version—that A.J. would help me get the body to the Glades.”

The corners of Ben's mouth slowly hitched into a smile that eclipsed his whole face. "Does that mean I made it onto the list?"

It took me a minute to get the reference to that first night on the beach after the coffeeshop, but I nodded when it clicked in my mind. "Yeah, you did. A long-time ago."

"Nice to know.”

He leaned into me for a moment, head ducked into my shoulder in an uncharacteristic retreat from the world. As Ben composed himself, I stroked a hand up and down his spine gently like I would’ve done to Adelyna, Emma, and Sofia if they were upset. If I ever tried it with Tara, she’d probably try to rip off my arm and beat me with it, but that didn’t make her any less mine. I’d grown up without a real sense of family other than Max’s, but I had one now.

“Ben, ¿qué pasó? ¿Estás bien?”

I glanced up when I heard Roman’s deep voice. I schooled my own tone to calm because though his broad, bulky frame was carefully composed, I could see the anger in his eyes that had turned the beautiful blue almost glacial. I’d been worried he’d have to call the cops, but when I met his expression, I got the distinct impression that if I’d done more than just break Michael’s wrist, Roman still would’ve made sure all optics were on my side. Smooth and meticulously groomed as he was, this was a man who knew how to hide his own bodies.

“Yes, we’re alright, Roman,” Ben said.

“That fucker got handsy with Ben,” I clarified. “I made him take no for an answer with one less hand. Not sorry bout that, but I’m sorry about the mess. I’ll pay for the damages.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m insured, and a broken table is easier to get rid of than a body bag,” Roman said, his accent deeper than it’d been earlier. Once again I got the impression that he had plenty of shovels somewhere if I ever needed to forgo the whole Everglades situation

“Colby, come up to the VIP One area. Yeah, things are fine. Just need to move everyone downstairs to Preferred Two. We’ll close One until we can get the glass cleaned up. Violet, Jasmine and Micky, make sure all VIP patron’s drinks get comped for the rest of the night. I’ll text a copy of tonight’s list to your cells. Yeah, we’re good, Felix. Make sure Armstead gets put into a cab to the ER with his wallet, because we’re not picking up the tab. His name and anyone associated with it is permanently banned, effective immediately, including his father. I’ll send you the stats later.”

Roman’s voice was calm, his directions efficient. Cool as a fucking cucumber didn’t begin to describe him. Aside from the fact he was too tall and striking looking to have been discreet, I wouldn’t have thought twice about him having my back on an op. He obviously had Ben’s best interests, and those of his people at heart, because there was a certain loyalty obvious in their lack of hesitation in following his directions as they started appearing to do as they’d been instructed. I was impressed, but my balls shrank up just a little. As impressive as this level of organization was, it was also further proof that Roman wasn’t a guy who fucked around. Getting on his bad side wasn’t high on my to-do list.

“It’s an isolated channel,” he said, tapping his earpiece when he caught me looking. “Helps us keep in contact with each other. In this part of Miami and in the club scene in general, drugs can become a problem, and I run a clean place. No drugs, or sex are allowed in-house, here or at Allegria. What people do outside is their personal prerogative, but in here, this is a safe zone. You feel me?”

“Yeah, I do. Still sorry about the mess.”

“You protected someone I care about, so I consider it a fair trade.” He smiled and that one movement smoothed out the danger in his face and morphed him from eerily efficient problem solver, back to charming bar owner. “Now go have fun. This needs to get cleaned up before the second wave of the night, and I have to go and work my magic to make people forget about that asshole by bringing out the top shelf stuff. Ben?”

All he said was his name, but Ben immediately looked up, though his body was still tucked into mine. “Yes?”

“Me gusta este. No acepta una mierda. Buen chico para tener a tu espalda.”

“Thank you. I don’t. And I am,” I said, agreeing with Roman’s assessment that I took no shit and had Ben’s back, after thanking him for his approval.

“And he speaks Spanish.” Roman’s grin deepened. Another test had obviously been passed. “Good. Go have fun. I’ll try and catch up with you both later. If not, maybe we can all meet for an early dinner sometime next week.”

His hand landed on Ben’s shoulder for a brief squeeze, before he was moving away to help with getting everyone downstairs with smooth explanations.

I whistled low, then brushed a kiss across Ben’s temple as I murmured, “I feel like that was the equivalent of meeting the Nightmare on Elm Street version of someone’s mother.

“My mother was scarier when we were kids. The chancla is a real thing. Ask any Latino kid.” Ben offered a lopsided smile, but the color was back in his face, heart rate back to normal when I brushed my thumb over the pulse point in his wrist. “Come dance with me? I want to forget about the Michaels of the world tonight."

Ben's strong hands were tight and possessive on my body, his usual composure restored as we headed down to the second level when I followed him without hesitation. The dance floor on this one was smaller than the one on the VIP level, more of an area for lounging and drinking, but it was getting crowded with everyone from upstairs being funneled down. I allowed Ben to back me up into a corner of the dance floor. All around us, couples writhed to the sensual beat of a reggaeton and Latin pop dance song, but I didn’t know how the fuck to dance to this. Hell, I’d never learned to do any of those stupidly campy line dance songs at weddings, like the Electric Slide or even the fucking Chicken Dance. I could move like shadows with the fluidity of water on a mission, but on a dance floor, I considered myself two left feet plus a few extra toes that tripped me up on the basic steps. Max used to tease me by saying that I was the one exception he’d ever met to the rule, that men who couldn’t dance, couldn’t fuck. When we were together on a dance floor, I could follow his lead because he moved like the bones in his body melted away the moment music came on, but I was never really comfortable moving my own. With Ben though, all the inhibitions I'd brought with me slipped away as I felt him meld into me, looking for an outlet away from the earlier ugly.

One hand slid down my hip to cup my ass and I rubbed up against him, guided by his body and the flow of the crowds around us. I gave into Ben’s kiss when his mouth closed over mine, letting the scent of his cologne, tinged with the subtle tang of sweat, sweep me away.

When he moved behind me, his hands guiding my hips where he wanted them to go, I let him take over, giving in to him in public among the throng of people around us, the same way I gave in when we were in the privacy of his bedroom. We moved in perfect rhythm, heat radiating from his skin to mine—so hot it felt like we'd melt down into pure sexual energy.

He inhaled and I exhaled, letting him spin around to press into the front of my body again. His arm looped around my neck so that he could drag me down to his height and press his lips to mine. The kiss started hot, but each demanding stroke of Ben’s tongue against mine ratcheted up the temperature in the room another degree, until my dress shirt clung damply to every ridge of my body. I still couldn't get enough, and I finally did what Ben had been asking me to do since we met... I let go.

My epiphany wasn't happy when we were interrupted by the warmth of someone else pressing up against my back. The man's larger, bulkier frame was obviously very happy to be there, but before I could tell him to fuck off, Roman's deep voice rumbled in my ear.

"As much as I'm enjoying the view, this needs to be moved elsewhere. Like I said, I run a clean place, and it's not fair if no one else gets to play."

I hadn't realized I'd tensed until his laughter rumbled across my spine. "Don't worry, papi. As tempting as it is to join in, Ben doesn't share." The edge of something damp brushed across the top of my ear, too fast for me to be sure whether it was Roman’s lips or his tongue. "To my regret, you're off limits."

The vibrations from his chest slithered down my back, making me shudder as I met Ben's eyes, the hazel smoked out with arousal as he looked at me, then back to Roman with just the slightest quirk of lips that made me wonder if for a fraction of a second, he was reconsidering that stance. My own cock jerked immediately in my slacks. I’d been the filling in a sexual sandwich exactly once before, with Max and an open-minded partner. One time had been enough. Trying to figure out who went where so no one felt left out, made my head hurt. But right now, with the electricity crackling between the three of us, the idea of Ben orchestrating the entire situation, guiding me exactly where he wanted me to go, and telling me what he wanted me to do, made my pulse skip for a brief moment.

"My office here has the same layout as Allegria, Ben,” Roman said, breaking the moment. “Head straight back to that private bank of elevators that go straight to the top, then take a left to my office," Roman said. “I’ll let Lanie know you’re headed there now.” He fished a key card out of his pocket, then handed it to Ben. “This is a one-time exception since it’s you, so play nice, lock the door, and for God's sake, use the Lysol wipes in the bottom drawer of my desk when you're done. There’s extra in the cabinet, along with a spray bottle or furniture polish."

Apparently, Roman’s control issues didn’t limit themselves to the security of the club. I grinned, but Ben didn't give me a chance to comment, or even say goodbye to Roman. Instead, he half pushed, half dragged me through the crowd toward the elevators where one of his bouncers was standing. We both got a knowing look, but he said nothing as he hit the button to open the doors, then sent us on our way.

Ben and I were all over each other again the moment the doors closed, kissing and touching wherever we could before the all-too-short ride deposited us on the floor with Roman's office. We’d barely made it inside, before I pressed Ben hard up against the wall by the door. Ben's laugh turned into a moan that I swallowed as my hands yanked his shirt out of his pants to sweep under it, and up the warm ridges of his abs. My brief impulse to let Ben and Roman take the lead had been left downstairs. All I wanted now, was to get Ben out of his damn clothes so I could bottom out inside his ass after he’d rubbed me to readiness with every move he’d made on the dance floor.

"Someone’s impatient.”

“Someone else talks too much.”

Ben offered me a lazy smile, ignoring the fact he’d set the fire downstairs. Instead of kissing my mouth which craved the taste of him, he brushed a light kiss across my jaw, then at either corner of my mouth. I raised an eyebrow, but went along with things for now, trying to slow my breath so I could appreciate the warmth of Bens lips. The firm weight of his hands slid beneath my shirt slowly as he kissed my cheekbone, then corners of my mouth again, before finally allowing his tongue to trace the seam of my lips.

I was trying to follow his lead, but between our dirty dancing and the primal win of taking down the slime that was Michael fucking Armstead, a desperate need to claim Ben was riding me down to the marrow in my bones. When I gave into that need by crashing my mouth down on Ben’s, plundering with irresistible force as I cradled his face between my hands, Ben gasped and dropped his hands to my hips as I backed him further into the room, and up against Roman’s desk. Papers that had been previously piled neatly, went flying with a soft metallic sound that indicated pens or possibly paper clips had taken the trip too.

I didn’t bother taking inventory right now. Everything would have to be disinfected later anyway. For now, Ben and I kissed like our lips were on fire. Devouring and taking each other with a fierceness that should’ve melted the damn room around us. Getting through an intense reactive situation with someone was even more of a turn on than make-up sex after an argument.

Ben sat on the edge of Roman’s desk, returning the kiss as his hand undid the fly to my slacks, so he could shove his hands down the waistband and knead the taut muscles of my ass like he wasn’t in any hurry to actually get my pants off. We weren’t on the same page about that, and he laughed when I broke the kiss to growl into the warm curve of his neck as my hands started popping the buttons on his dress shirt to get it peeled off him and tossed unceremoniously to the floor with all the fallen papers.

Ben laughed and kicked off his does without even undoing the laces. He took advantage of my proximity when I tried to get his pants down, running his hands down my shoulders and back, using the blunt edge of his short nails to activate any nerve ending with the audacity not to already be fully engaged, into hyperdrive.

I shuddered beneath his hands but stayed my course. When Ben was completely stripped of everything, including his socks and underwear, I stepped to admire the view for the ten seconds I could manage, before I tugged my own shirt over my head. I wasn’t going for finesse, but before I had my pants dropped below my hips, Ben had already slid off the desk and knelt in front of me.

I grunted in surprise, but let Ben play as he gripped my cock without apology, squeezing firmly enough to make sure he had my attention before he skated the edge of his thumb around my cockhead, sliding through the slit.

“Fuck, Ben.”

“Eventually.”

The cheeky bastard grinned at me, the expression in his eyes clearly telling me that he intended to take his time to admire, to tease, and to torment. He licked around the flared head of my cock slowly, but before I could bitch, he switched things up and away from potentially agonizing levels of foreplay, by engulfing me completely.

His lips stretched wide around my dick, and though I knew from experience that Ben didn’t have a gag reflex, he only took me halfway down before wrapping his fist around the bottom of my cock to make up the difference, like he wanted me to get lost in the different sensations of both his hands, and his mouth on my flesh.

There was a definite tremble to my knees when Ben took me deeper. I’d showered and prepped for all possibilities tonight, but I was leaking so heavily, I was sure Ben was tasting the briny flavor of my precome more than he was my bodywash. My nipples tightened into stiff peaks, and I knotted my fingers in Ben’s hair, pulling him back just enough to see his face. The hazel of his eyes was drowned out by the explosion of his pupils as he licked the spit from his lower lip in blatant invitation. For a minute I was tempted to satisfy his craving for mouthfuls of my cum, so I could watch it overflow from between those full lips, and leak down the edges of his mouth and down his throat, but I needed more.

“Stay,” I said after I hauled him up by the armpits to plunk him back on the desk. Ben smirked but obeyed, watching as I quickly stripped off the rest of my own clothing. I tossed it all to the floor before I remembered that the little bottle of lube was inside the pocket of my slacks. I retrieved it with a curse to Ben’s amusement. When I set it beside him on the disheveled desk and stepped between his legs, he didn’t bother asking about logistics.

When Ben rolled to his back on the desk with his usual grace, I thanked God and any other random deity into voyeurism, for Ben’s love of daily yoga. His lips parted beneath mine when I kissed him deeply, allowing myself to get lost for a moment. I kissed his cheek, jaw and throat whenever I could convince myself that leaving the taste of his mouth behind for a few seconds wouldn’t kill me. I’d never had a pina colada before, virgin or otherwise, but the fruity coconut on Ben’s tongue was almost as good as his usual cinnamon.

Ben gave as good as he got. His hands were everywhere: stomach, flank, thighs, backside, neck, chest and nipples. Nipples, that reminded me with the sweetest pang of pain imaginable after Ben twisted them expertly, that their piercing was something I’d be doing as a present to myself as soon as possible.

“We should move this to the couch over there. I don’t think Roman’s going to be thrilled with that mess,” I said indicating the scattered papers, “so there’s a good shot that butt prints on expensive wood won’t go over any better.”

Ben grinned. "He told us where he keeps the Lysol, Sam. He offered his office knowing exactly what we’re going to do up here. We're friends not saints and I saw the way he looked at you tonight. He'll get off on it."

My brow cocked in amusement considering how irritated he’d seemed when Roman’s staff flirted with me. "And you're okay with that?"

Ben's smile was wicked. "A man's mind is his personal playground. As long you know you're mine, I don't care what anyone else thinks."

“Sooooo possessive,” I said in singsong because we both knew that I was getting off on this shit.

“Can you blame me after you showed an entire club that you’re a man willing to fight for my honor? If Roman didn’t have his rules in place, I’d have climbed you like a tree right there on the dance floor. You’re my personal Daniel LaRusso.”

I grinned, then said, “Lube,” because I couldn’t think of another comeback.

Ben chuckled as he passed it to me without comment. I slicked myself up heavily, my wrist shaking slightly as Ben helped our situation along by lifting his thighs and holding them in place with his arms. The position zoomed past wanton sex bunny, landing in the realm of the kind of porn I’d stopped watching in my twenties, because I’d never met a man who could pull off making his asshole target zero, look less than comical. But as usual, Ben defied the status quo.

I clenched my own fingers hard around my own dick to bite back the threat of my orgasm. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d come with my dick untouched, but that particular situation had included Ben’s cock jammed up my ass. Coming just from looking at him, was a no go.

Leaning down, I kissed Been deeply once I got some control back, supporting his legs against my torso. I kissed the insides of his knees, smoothed my hands up the flat plains of his belly, then kissed lower down his sparse happy trail as my palms kept warming and massaging the skin of his thighs. When my lips tickled the crown of his Ben’s cock, he groaned and tilted his head back, letting himself get lost in what I was doing as I drew him into my mouth and used every trick I had in my book to suck, taste, and tease him, until I felt his hands tangling in my hair with enough determination to break through the barrier of hair gel.

Ben’s eyes were squeezed shut when I drew slowly off him with a soft pop of sound for his benefit. I kissed my way back up his body after tugging his legs down to get them wrapped around my hips with just enough room left between our bodies for me to trace my still slick fingers through Ben’s cheeks to pet his hole. I traced a slow line from Ben’s chin to his ear with my lips, murmuring, “Open your eyes.”

As soon as he did, I forced myself to hold his gaze as my fingers worked their magic with controlled gentleness; slow circles around his sphincter, then a gentle one-finger penetration that became two as soon as Ben moaned and pushed his hips forward with one arm curled over his head on Roman’s desk, and the other laid against the side of my face. I turned into his touch to nip his fingertips sharply, and Ben let out a sound that was barely human as two fingers became the three that I scissored with slower deliberation than I needed to. Prepping Ben usually didn’t take much, but I was getting off on seeing his control stripped.

“Sam, enough. Fuck me or—”

I didn’t give Ben’s hormone addled brain a chance to figure out an appropriate ‘or else.’ His body arched and he called out my name when I yanked my fingers free, then pushed my already aligned dick, into his body. I went slow, forced to slap my hands down on top of Ben’s to trap them on the desk beside his head when he tried to grab my ass, and hurry me along.

“Sorry, baby,” I murmured into his ear before I nipped the lobe sharply. “My rodeo.”

Ben grunted, trying to shove his pelvis down so he could take more of my cock up his ass.

Never let it be said that Benjamin Santiago wasn’t willing to his share of the work.

“Then own it, because I want it. I want you. That’s it,” he groaned when I bottomed out with a low grunt, lodged all the way inside. Ben’s muscles contracted and released in a wave that radiated from his asshole out, leaving his hands flexing restlessly in mine as he begged for more.

“Sam, please… for God’s sake, move. Please move… please… I need you not to hold back. All I want to feel, to think about, is you.”

I wasn’t sure who was more relieved when I finally listened and started rocking back and forth rhythmically, hard but slow, each thrust punctuated by the slapping together of our skin. Every deliberate plunge and retreat, ramped the heated intensity between us up another level as the sudden revelation that being here with Ben right now, was probably the most ‘right,’ I’d ever felt in my entire adult life.

Feeling Ben clench around me was bringing me to the edge faster than I wanted. Though to be fair, I could’ve come the moment I’d slid inside that tight heat that drove me crazy. I was just holding out, controlling my orgasm with every ounce of willpower I still had, because I didn’t want things to end just yet. Trying to distract myself by exchanging deep, drugging kisses with Ben wasn’t doing anything to keep my desire from dancing on a razor wire thin edge, because his hand was curled into the back of my neck, sucking my tongue into his mouth with that skill that I couldn’t hate on, even if I knew that he’d learned to kiss like he was dying, from faking it for so many years with other men.

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t faking it now as he showered my face with kisses whenever we needed to breath, words of desire panted into my ear in a tumble of both Spanish and English. Even though Ben knew I was fluent, he spoke to me in his native language mostly when we were in bed together, so my brain had attached an erotic affiliation with it that could get me hard in a heartbeat if he spoke to me in Spanish, even if we were in public.

Ben’s eyes flew open as I defied mechanics and tugged him to the edge of the desk without sliding out of him. Worry over ass prints on the wood were forgotten as I kissed him like I planned to swallow him whole, then nipped his ear, murmuring, “Get your legs around my waist, and put your arms around my neck.”

Ben obeyed without hesitation, and I kissed him again. We kept kissing desperately, licking and sucking as I lifted him off Roman’s desk easily, then walked him backward, narrowly missing the comfortable looking desk chair until we got to the wall behind the desk so I could press Ben up against it hard to support his back. How I hadn’t completely fallen out of him on our short stroll was more of a testament to how tightly Ben was holding onto me, pelvis expertly tipped into mine to keep my cock snug in his clenching heat. I groaned when I felt my dick readjust as I bottomed out again after steadying my stance with my hands under Ben’s thighs to keep his hips locked against my pelvis. The angle was deeper than before, and we both moaned.

“Am I hurting you?”

“If you stop, I’ll cross taking out a former Black Ops operative, off my bucket list.” He grinned. “Don’t stop, Sam.”

There was no fear of that, at least not unless my body gave out and I dropped him. Fortunately, Ben was reaping the benefits of my still regimented workout routine and refusal to give up clean living now that I’d stopped boozing and smoking. I could support his weight easily and in this position, would prove it with every stroke that sent me deeper into his body pushing us both to the edge of our limits.

Ben hissed something uncharacteristically filthy beneath his breath, and an undeniable level of satisfaction rolled through my entire body even though I probably looked just as wrecked as he did with his handsome face flushed rosy, sweat curling his hair messily across his temples. He started to keen when I rocked into him harder, and I could feel his dick striping my abs with precome each time I dove deep.

Ben released one arm from around my neck to haul me in for a kiss, so filthily intimate that my steady power-fuck stalled out. I felt him smile against my lips before his mouth moved to my ear.

“Open your eyes and look down, Sam.”

The moment I obeyed I felt the muscles in my arms tightening as this practiced dance became a sweaty grapple of sheer will power. My knees threatened to buckle when my lust addled brain processed the fact I could see the entire club below us. I'd been so far gone when we'd stumbled into Roman’s office, that I hadn't noticed that the entire wall behind his desk was made of glass. The thought that people could see me fucking Ben up against it should’ve made me feel shame, but all I felt was a heady sense of primal power. I groaned when Ben's teeth sunk into my shoulder.

"It's a two-way mirror, baby," he murmured against my ear. "They can't see us."

I trusted him when he said that it was a two-way mirror, but whether they could see in or not, it still felt like a clear claim in front of the masses, and we both knew it.

I kissed Ben deeper, fucking him harder as he flexed his hips into my hands, letting me have all physical control even as he wound my heart and soul around his fingers with his words that never stilled as he praised and encouraged me into a rhythm that matched the vibrations of the heavy bass we could almost feel through the floor.

“I can feel you holding back, Sam,” Ben groaned. “Let go for me, cariño.”

“You…you first.” I couldn't fucking think. I could only feel, overwhelmed by the rush of need roaring through me.

Ben kissed me again, raising his heels higher onto my back, hips tipped to force me as deep as I could go. His cries of surprise told me whenever I nailed his prostate, and I used them as a guide until I memorized the pattern and aimed every pounding thrust to the same spot.

God, I was so close.

My mouth felt empty without Ben’s tongue exploring it when he tore his mouth away and whispered in my ear. “Come for me, Sam. I’m right behind you. I want to feel you filling me, want to feel you dripping down my thighs. You protected me, tonight. You saved me. I’m alright, and I’m all yours.”

I lost it as Ben’s words reassured me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed till then. I rutted inside him mindlessly, making rabid, almost feral snarling noises muffled in the hollow between Ben’s neck and shoulder as I tested the limits of my body and his when I moved one hand from beneath Ben’s thighs to slam it on the mirrored wall, my other arm supporting the weight Ben wasn’t sustaining himself. My mouth was so dry I had no moisture left for any kind of recognizable protest, just sounds of sheer need. Ben's teeth tugged hard at the lobe of my left ear; his breath as hot as his promises.

"You protected me, and I’ll always protect you. No matter what anyone thinks, including Max, you’re mine. Mine, no one else’s, because you chose this. Chose us. I’m taking what you gave freely, and I’m never giving you back.”

I could hear how much he meant it, his tone as raw as my throat felt.

“Ben…”

Electrifying was the only word to describe the orgasm that seized my entire body when I finally broke. My shout could've been his name, but my brain had lost all cognitive processing power. A low, guttural sound steamrolled my orgasm through my body, starting with my toes and working its way up to my groin, where it exploded outward. I shouted Ben’s name again, but he screamed mine at the same time so it didn’t matter that my entire body was twitching, or that I had no more control over my limbs than a piece of overcooked, forlorn spaghetti left behind in a pot.

Ben’s dogged belief in miracles was probably the only reason my legs didn’t give out as soon as I felt myself spurt deep so deep inside him, that heading home sooner than later would be a priority if we didn’t want to trek a mess through Roman’s club. My family and friends would have to enjoy their night without us when they eventually got here.

I forced my attention back to Ben, committing his slack-jawed, bemused, vulnerable, and sexed out expression to memory for a moment. I could feel sticky heat against my belly, his cock already softening from his own orgasm. My body was protesting now that both my hormones and endorphins were waning, but I couldn’t have moved even if someone had put a gun to my head.

After several moments of harsh breathing, our bodied velcroed together with sweat and cum, I forced myself to tug Ben off the wall so I could stumble us towards the couch that we collapsed on with less grace than our bodies had moved with when we’d been like one person.

Ben raised a slightly shaking hand to my face, thumb stroking gently over the line of my jaw with a tender look before he leaned in for a kiss, then another, and another.

"Sweet fucking Christ," I mumbled into his mouth, too drained to censor my words around him, though I’d been getting better at it. The kids at Maplewood weren’t as thrilled as Ben was that they’d lost a good chunk of my donations into the swear jar that’d been going towards donuts and pizza.

"We’re definitely going to need those Lysol wipes." I sounded wrecked, but so did Ben when he said. “Later. Roman's a man of habit, so the wipes are in the bottom drawer of his desk like he said. This office is a carbon copy of the one in Allegria."

"Thank God for OCD then,” I said. Ben laughed and kissed me. I returned it, then pushed his damp curls back from his forehead. “Everyone has some foible. At least he's hot. You forgot to mention that part when you were sulking over Max."

Laughter rumbled against my skin. "Is he? I've never really noticed. Guess he's not my type."

"Or you're full of crap?"

Laughing, we scuffled until I ended up on my back, feeling my softened cock slide free from his body now that Ben’s inner muscles weren’t gripping it like a vise. Ben made a soft sound that for a tense moment I thought was pain, until his lips curved into an indulgent smile.

“Empty,” he said by way of explanation. And goddamn my dick for being reasonable and acknowledging my age and refractory period constraints, or that breathily spoken word would’ve gotten me hard again in an instant. I growled instead and Ben laughed as he maneuvered his body so we could enjoy a naked, albeit sticky cuddle.

“Ben?”

“Mmm?”

“Is that entire wall of screens monitoring the club?”

Ben shifted in my arms to follow my line of sight to the wall that was directly opposite the two-way mirror. Painted a deep, rich shade of burgundy, like a good wine, it was covered in high quality video monitors in full color, that seemingly showed every nook and cranny inside the club, except for the bathrooms. Even the hallways showed up on a few of the screens. It was eerily impressive, especially because I hadn’t noticed any cameras when I’d scoped out the club as soon as we’d walked in. That meant I’d either lost my edge, or Roman was freakishly good at planting surveillance.

“Mmm hmm,” Ben said with an amused look. “Allegria is wired the same way. Roman likes knowing what’s going on at all times in the club, even if he’s in his office. This room is also soundproofed.”

“That man officially scares the piss out of me just a little, but in the best way.”

Ben smiled. “I’ll be sure to pass the feedback along to him.”

Pure content settled over me when Ben snuggled deeper into my arms. I stroked my hand across his chest, admiring the sleek golden skin that contrasted with the silver of my dog tags where they coiled between our bodies. Sudden inspiration made me sit up so Ben could do the same. I saw curiosity in his eyes, but it melted into a smile of almost childlike delight when I removed my tags, and looped them around his neck, smoothing them against his chest with my palm.

"You're giving me these?"

"I may have picked up a few things from your lessons in romance. Besides, if you have them, that means I always need to come find you if I want them back."

Ben leaned in to kiss me and I slowly slid back down onto the couch, pulling him on top of me, finding comfort in his warm weight despite the fact we were still both sweaty.

"What time is it?," I asked, not bothering to check my watch since my arms were full of Ben, and I couldn’t see my wrist because my hands were out of sight as I stroked up and down his spine.

"Skin-thirty," Ben said, pressing a kiss into my shoulder. "As in all our bare skin equaling time for more sex as soon as our bodies recoup.”

I snorted. “You took it there? Seriously?”

Ben’s laughter rumbled against my mouth. "Yep, and I plan for you to take me over and over again...”

I suddenly felt absolutely no need for words.