13. In This Together
13
In This Together
As we kissed, I crawled back into Ben’s lap, straddling his thighs. His hands gripped my hips, fingers digging in deliciously. I tugged on his curls, angling his head so I could kiss him deeper, and he groaned.
The kiss burned through me, setting me alight from the inside out. My nerves sparked, and my skin vibrated. His fingers seared me through the fabric of my shirt until they slipped underneath, meeting skin.
His touch was hesitant, questioning, and I answered by raising my arms so he could work my shirt up and over my head. He dropped it to the couch beside us, then leaned forward so I could drag his shirt off too.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I said as I admired him, running my hands over his chest.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said, thumbs pressing to the peaks of my hip bones.
I kissed him, mapping the expanse of skin—so much glorious skin. My fingers followed the path of his happy trail, thumb brushing the band of his sweats. I could feel him against my thigh, and I rolled my hips.
A strangled sound scraped his throat, and it might have been the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. I ground down against him so I would hear it again, and he didn’t disappoint.
Our chests met, and his hands were everywhere. My back, my waist, my neck. When his palms tentatively molded over my ass, I moaned in encouragement. He gripped me more confidently, and I smiled against his mouth.
“Is this okay?” I gasped as he kissed a trail across my jaw.
I lowered my hand so he couldn’t misunderstand exactly what I was asking, and he barked, “Oh fuck.”
“Ben, is this okay?” I repeated, pulling back enough to make eye contact. I never wanted to do anything he didn’t want me to, but he was already nodding.
“Yeah, Si. Yeah, I—oh shit.”
His breath painted my neck, hot and wet. He trembled in my hold, skin pebbling with goosebumps. He carved crescent marks into my back with his blunt nails, and I loved every second of it.
“You feel good,” I told him.
He said, “Oh my God.”
And, “Please don’t stop.”
And later, “Silas, I’m gonna—”
And when it was over and I was cleaning my hand with my discarded shirt, he exhaled on a sigh. Grasping fingers softened to soothing caresses. He whispered words I couldn’t hear against my throat. And I wondered if this was what it felt like to be adored.
“Told you I had skills,” I said smugly as I kissed his sweaty temple.
He laughed, biting my shoulder playfully, and I squeaked.
As his breathing evened, he sat back and blinked slowly, like he was coming out of a daze. His face was flushed, lips swollen and wet. His blond curls were wild, and a thin layer of sweat made his skin gleam under the living room lights.
He looked entirely fucked out, and yeah, that fed my ego. I wanted to make him look like this all the time.
“Wow,” he said, his eyes finally focusing.
He offered me a loose grin, and I laughed. “That good, huh?”
Ducking his head shyly, he nodded. “Yeah, that good. Thank you.”
I’d never been thanked for a handjob before. “Uh, you’re welcome?”
We snickered quietly before Ben gripped the back of my neck and dragged me down for a kiss that was all tongues and teeth.
“My turn,” he whispered.
And I said, “What?”
Then I yelped as my world turned topsy-turvy. Ben practically manhandled me until I was lying on my back, and I made an embarrassingly whiny noise in the back of my throat as his thigh slipped between my legs.
Instinct had me grinding up against him as his weight settled over me. Trepidation trickled through the back of my mind, but I ignored it, surging up to kiss him. My enthusiasm had him losing his balance, and he nearly crushed me as he struggled to get one of his arms underneath to prop himself up.
I wanted—needed—more, but the pressure of him pushing me back into the cushions sent a zing of fear through my veins, cooling the fire in my blood. He blazed heat down my throat with his mouth, and I shook away the apprehension, focusing on how good he felt against me.
But I wasn’t sure if he felt good anymore. Because he was a little heavy, and I couldn’t move very well. A faucet was leaking —no! No, there was no leaky faucet. I was in my living room with Ben as he set me aflame with his touch.
Everything was spring soap and spearmint. Spring soap and spearmint... and cucumber melon.
“Ben,” I said.
There was water drip, drip, dripping .
Fingers fumbled with the button of my jeans.
“Ben.” I pushed on his shoulder, but he was too heavy. He was so heavy, and I couldn’t breathe. “Ben, wait. Stop. Stop!”
And everything stopped.
“Silas?”
“Get off me,” I whispered. “Please, get off me.”
He got off me.
Clutching the back of the couch in a white-knuckled grip, I sat up and sucked in a lungful of air. I blinked through the blur of tears and fought the panic suffocating me.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” Ben said, sounding utterly gutted.
I shook my head. “You didn’t do anything. I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
Scrambling to my feet, I shook out my hands and fought to calm my breathing. I glanced at Ben, then away. He looked stricken, and I couldn’t bear to see it.
“I’m sorry, Silas,” he said again, and I held up a hand.
“Please, just give me a fucking second.”
He fell silent, the weight of his gaze tracking me as I paced back and forth. I felt like crying, but I wasn’t even scared anymore. I could see that I was in my house, not in that bathroom. I could smell Ben’s spring soap, not cucumber melon. And it was Ben, not Eric, who’d been touching me.
I knew all of this. I could fucking see it. And yet, my heart was jackhammering and my eyes were burning with the need to weep.
And on top of everything, there was the embarrassment, the all-encompassing humiliation. Because he knew exactly what was going through my mind, exactly why I’d stopped him. He knew, and it made me want to scream.
“I’m okay,” I kept saying as I continued pacing. “I’m okay, Ben. I just need a second. That’s all. Just a second. I’m fine.”
“It’s okay if you’re not,” he said hesitantly, and I shook my head again.
“No, I’m fine!” My voice broke. “I’m fine. I’m...”
Ben stood as I covered a sob with my hand. He didn’t move toward me, but he did reach for me. A request. An offer.
It was up to me, though. He was giving me the choice, and that, more than anything, is what broke me.
I reached for him as I burst into tears, and he was there. He held me as I buried my face in his neck and shattered into pieces.
He didn’t speak. He offered no words of comfort or empty platitudes, no optimistic promises or soothing assurances. He simply held me, keeping me from drowning completely.
When my tears finally dried, my chest was hollow like everything in me had been scooped out. It was cold and lonely, yet Ben’s presence seeped into me like the warmth of spring, thawing me after a harsh winter.
At some point, we’d fallen to the ground and now sat in a tangle of limbs. Salt crusted on my cheeks as my tears dried on his bare chest. I hid in his neck; I couldn’t face him after my meltdown. There was only so much brokenness a person could carry before they splintered, and Ben had enough without adding mine. Even now, he held me up when I couldn’t stand, but how much could he truly handle before he collapsed under the weight?
“I’m sorry,” I croaked, tracing the line of his collarbone. “I didn’t know that would happen.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.” His hand rubbed warmth into my arm. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t notice until it was too late.”
“You shouldn’t have to!” I pushed against his chest, swiping angrily at my eyes. “Who should have to tiptoe their way through jerking their boyfriend off?”
He frowned, but his voice was soft as he said, “Maybe someone whose boyfriend was sexually assaulted three months ago.”
The blunt words made me flinch, but Ben didn’t take them back. “I’m fine,” I denied uselessly.
“I think we both know that’s not true.”
My temper sparked, and I pushed out of his lap, stumbling to my feet. “I think you should go.”
“No,” he said as he followed me up.
“What?”
“No,” he said again, ocean eyes turbulent. “I’m in this now. You chose me, remember? And I chose you. So we are in this together. You can’t shut me out every time I say something you don’t want to hear.”
“Fuck you,” I spat that word, and he winced. “You don’t get to say that. You have no idea—”
“Paul Masson,” he said.
Once again, I was caught off guard. “What?”
“Paul Masson brandy. I know exactly what it smells like because my dad smelled like that every time he put his hands on me.” His breath hitched, but he kept going. “I had to ask Aunt June to change her lotion because she used the same brand that my mom did. And every time she walked into a room, rubbing that goddamn Curél into her skin, I couldn’t breathe.
“So don’t you tell me that I have no idea.” His fists tightened, then released. Tightened, then released. “It’s not the same. I get that. But don’t you dare tell me I don’t understand what it feels like to be in two places at once but unable to escape either.”
I was crying again, fat, silent tears rolling down my cheeks as Ben’s chest heaved with great, shuddering breaths.
“I’m on your side. So let me help. Don’t make me leave.”
“I don’t want you to go,” I admitted, wiping at my running nose. “But I don’t want it to be like this between us.”
“Trauma doesn’t go away just because you want it to.”
“I know that!” I ground my teeth, taking a deep breath. The next time I spoke, it was softer. “I know that, the same way I knew it was you on the couch, the same way I knew that I wasn’t back in that bathroom. But knowing doesn’t mean shit when the wires in my brain are all fucked up.”
He nodded like I was proving his point with my rebuttal. Which I guessed I was. I’d never wanted to punch a wall before but I did now.
“Just because this is how it happened today doesn’t mean it will stay like this. It can get better.”
“Your therapist tell you that?” I said, and yeah, it was a low blow.
Ben, being Ben, took it in stride. “Yes, she did.”
“Was she right?”
“Most of the time, she is.”
“Is that why you go? So she can fix you?”
Another flinch.
Then, “I didn’t want to see a therapist. It was court mandated. They found weed in my locker, and I’d already been in hot water at the other school after I beat up that kid. The only way I wouldn’t get expelled for the second time in as many years was if I went to therapy and attended a separate anger management group. And do periodic drug tests, but that was Aunt June’s rule, not the school’s.
“So no, I didn’t want to go, not at first. But it helped. It still helps. I’m not fixed, and I never will be because that’s not how life works. But I don’t want to live the rest of my life being self- destructive and miserable. I don’t want to hurt the people I love most, so I go to therapy and I take my meds and I try to be better.”
“I don’t know how to be better,” I confessed, and his frustration melted away.
“We can figure that out together if you want.”
And because I was selfish, I walked back into his arms to take that which he offered but I didn’t deserve. He was too good for me in practically every way, but I wasn’t altruistic enough to let him go. So I held on as he whispered words of comfort and encouragement into my hair.
“You could meet with Sarah if you want. My therapist,” he said a minute later. “I could give you her number.”
Since I didn’t want to fight with him, I said, “Sure.”
At some point, we returned to the couch, and I curled up beside him, letting him comfort me. I hoped that we were done talking, but this was Ben and he was persistent as hell.
“Can I ask what I did that triggered you?” he said as he kissed my forehead, and I exhaled heavily through my nose.
“You didn’t do anything. It’s my fucked-up head, okay?”
“Okay,” he said diplomatically. “But if I can help, I’d like to. If there are things I should or shouldn’t do, ways I should or shouldn’t touch you, I’d like to know.”
“Me too,” I joked, but it fell flat. “I don’t know either, okay? It’s not always like that. Like, I jerked off once, and it was fine. But the next time I jerked off, it wasn’t fine.” My face flamed, but Ben didn’t shame me for my confessions. “It’s not just one thing, you know?”
“Okay.”
I knew he wasn’t going to let it go until I gave him more, so I grudgingly said, “Your weight on top of me made me feel trapped. Not completely, because I liked it, but then I also didn’t. If that makes sense.”
“I think so. Thanks for telling me.” He rubbed my arm and kissed my head again. “Next time, you can be on top then.”
And I immediately choked on my own spit.
“Oh God, I didn’t mean it like that,” Ben said, eyes widening as I gaped at him. “Not that I wouldn’t be into that. Because I think I would, but what I meant was, in that particular situation, we could just”—he pantomimed flipping a pancake—“switch.”
I snorted.
“I’m not making this better, am I?”
Shaking my head, I laughed, and it felt good after such heaviness. Ben joined me, and we laughed until I was crying for a completely different reason than I had been before.
“Wow, I wasn’t expecting you to offer to bottom, but—ow!” I rubbed my ear where he’d flicked me.
“Shut up, that wasn’t what I meant.”
“I remember you clearly saying that you would be into it.”
Blushing, Ben ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay. You got me there. So maybe I would be into it.”
I hummed and leaned in, kissing his hot cheek. “Well, like I said earlier, not everyone’s into butt stuff. But if you want to try, I’m good with that.”
“Yeah? Even if I have no idea what I’m doing?”
With a chuckle, I kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Even then. Besides, we don’t play by heterosexual rules. So if you don’t like ass play, who cares? Baby, there is much more to gay sex than that.”
Instead of huffing in embarrassment, he smiled at me. “Did you just call me baby ?”
“Uh, yes?” For some reason, it made me flush. “Do you not like it?”
“It’s cutesy,” he said.
“And you do like cutesy stuff.”
“I do.”
I kissed him again, and the tension in the air eased, like the walls could finally exhale.
When we parted, our foreheads met, and I said, “Thank you for staying.”
And Ben scoffed, shaking his head with an exasperated smile on his face. “Oh, Silas. Where else am I gonna go?”