3. Benji
CHAPTER 3
BENJI
B ennet’s already in the shower when I finally pry myself away from Nate’s lap. After dinner, the three of us cuddled up on the couch, Bennet reading a romance book as I told Nate about our day. The whole time, I was on Nate’s knee, enjoying the way it felt as he bounced me up and down.
When he told us we needed to go upstairs and get ready for bed, it took everything I had to pull myself away from his warm, welcoming lap. As welcoming as his lap is, it’s what’s in that lap that’s got me excited about tonight. I’ve got a plan, you see, and it’s one that’s going to rock Nate’s world. Tonight, I plan to show him everything we have to offer. What he does with the vision laid before him is his prerogative, I just know I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try.
In the bathroom, I pull off my shirt, then shorts, and toss them into the hamper in the corner. The only thing I don’t take off is my half of the matching necklaces Bennet and I own. We bought them when we were kids. Initially, they were gold, but over time the gold paint chipped, leaving half a silver colored broken heart on each of our chains. I like them this way, though. Faded with time, but still holding strong, just like the other half of my heart, Bennet Anderson.
Climbing into the shower, I slip behind Bennet and grab the bottle of body wash out of his hand. Squeezing a dollop of rose-scented soap into my palm, I kiss his shoulder before handing the bottle back to him and working the soap into a frothy lather. He’s still wearing his half of our necklace too. I don’t think either of us have ever taken the necklaces off since the day we bought them.
Like I do every night, I massage the body wash into his shoulders, digging my thumbs into his muscles, trying to ease his tension.
“I need a favor,” I tell him, moving my hands lower, making his skin nice and soapy. “And I need you to say yes, no matter what.”
He looks over his shoulder at me, one eyebrow raised. “Continue.”
I kiss his shoulder again, but I just end up getting soap in my mouth, and I’m spitting and sputtering, trying to get the nasty taste out. Ugh. This is the actual worst, so I lean past him, not really caring that my penis is now pressed right against his ass. With a wide-open mouth, I collect enough water to swish around and cleanse my palette. Bennet’s still staring at me with a questioning look in his eyes, and I want to lighten the mood, so I pucker my lips and spit a stream directly into his face. He doesn’t even bat an eye.
“So,” I finally continue once I no longer taste nasty soap. “What we talked about earlier—us jacking off before bed—you’re still up for it, right?”
He pulls away and turns to the side, displaying his modest cock, fully hard, red at the tip. “What do you think?”
I snicker, then reach down and thump the head of his prick. I really like that we can share moments like this. I know it’s not normal—grown men aren’t supposed to shower together or flick each other’s penises—but we’ve had no boundaries for the last two decades, so I don’t really give a damn what’s normal and what’s not.
“Come back to me, Benj,” Bennet says. I blink a few times, confused. “You were lost in your head again. Keep that up and the water’s going to get cold. Whatever you want, just say it.” He leans back against me, resting his body on mine. I tighten the grip I have on his waist, holding on to him for dear life.
“I want to make a move on Nate.” It feels wrong calling him that. He’s not Nate. I know Bennet probably thinks I want to call Nate “Daddy,” but even that doesn’t sound strong enough for the feelings he makes me feel. But if Nate isn’t a Nate and he isn’t a Daddy, either, what else does that leave? “Tonight. I want to do it tonight.”
Bennet doesn’t say anything. Just turns his attention to the body wash, pouring himself a palmful before reaching behind his back, toward his ass. That’s my job, though. I do him, he does me. It’s something I’ve done without fail for years. I don’t like change, so I scoop the soap out of his hand and nudge him back. I slip my fingers between his cheeks, scratching soap into his crack with my nails. I’m careful around his hole, because I don’t want to hurt him, but I still press firmly against his entrance, getting him squeaky clean. Then I allow my finger to linger, using my other hand to hold his cheeks apart. His rim is a light-pink hue, and it looks fresh as a daisy. He’s always had a really pretty hole though. He says mine is cute, too, but I’m not bendy enough to see back there, and the thought of crouching over my phone just to snap an image of my asshole doesn’t sound very fun. I don’t know how my hole could ever top Bennet’s, though.
“Okay,” Bennet says, taking me by surprise.
“Okay?”
He looks over his shoulder and nods. I can tell he’s worried, and I hate that I put worry on such a sweet face. “Okay,” he repeats after a pause. “If you want to make a move, we’ll make a move.” He reaches down and squeezes my hand. “You care for him.”
“Do you?”
He chews his bottom lip, considering. “It’s not that I don’t like him. He’s a nice guy, and he puts up with our weird stuff, but it’s Tatum’s dad.”
I roll my eyes. “He doesn’t care about our weird stuff. He’s just as weird as us. Nate literally rocked me like a baby earlier. He sings “Ride a Little Pony” and bounces me on his knee. You saw how proud he was of you earlier. He adores us.” I probably look like I’ve got hearts in my eyes, but I don’t care. “And who cares what Tatum says? He’s off living his best life and we’re here, fending for ourselves. He can cope.”
“It’s still weird.”
“Are you not attracted to him? Is it because he’s bald? Because that’s not fair. He can’t help it.”
Bennet shakes his head, nervous, clearly, but insistent. “I love his bald head. I wanna gaze into it like a crystal ball and play witches.”
I smile like a maniac, I’m sure, because I’ve had the very same thought before. “Hocus pocus, come and stroke us, Daddy. Ugh. It would be super fun, Bennet. Sometimes I like to think of it like an airport runway. I want to land my lips like a plane all over it.” I chew my cheek, trying to figure out what the problem is. “Well, if it’s not because he’s bald, then why? I know he’s got a little bit of a tummy, but it’s adorable.”
“It is,” he agrees. “And, yeah, I kind of want to tickle it a little, but that’s not. . .” Closing his eyes, he sighs before turning slightly, allowing the water to drip-drip-drip down on his face. “Fine. Just tell me what you want to do.” His eyes are still shut, and I think he’s worried about opening them long enough to face the facts. There’s no decision left for us to make. Nate’s ours. He knows it and I know it.
I watch as water trickles down his body. He’s handsome, my Bennet. I know he could have the pick of the litter, and for reasons I’ll never understand, he continuously picks me. He always picks me. Those last few weeks, before Tatum came and saved us, Bennet told the monster if he didn’t let me out of my cage, he wasn’t going to fuck him anymore. I didn’t see Bennet again after that, and I missed him. My God, I missed him. The bond between us felt like it was being pulled so tight, it would snap at any second. I kept waiting for it too. I waited for it to snap back like a rubber band and leave a mark, but it never did. Because my Bennet wouldn’t leave me there alone. I knew it. I said it to myself when I was the only one in the room. After the monster left us there in our temporary tombs while he took his stupid new boyfriend down to Mexico, Bennet was there. I felt him. I still feel him. He’s right here in my heart, beginning to end.
“So, here’s my plan.” And I tell him all of it, clutching my half-heart necklace for strength. From methods of seduction to how I want Bennet to bend over in front of Nate, revealing himself, I tell Bennet everything, and he listens with bulging eyes and a steadily shaking head.
“This is a terrible idea,” he says less than ten minutes later, once we’re back in our room. He’s naked as the day he was born, his cock is still rock-hard from the shower. I’m just as hard as he is, and it’s only now I realize how sexually frustrated I am. It’s been days since we’ve found release, side by side. “What if he doesn’t take the bait and we actually have to go through with it?” When he turns to face me, his erection bounces up and down like a pretty-pink pogo stick. “I’m going to have to touch your dick, Benji.”
He’s right, of course. But then, Bennet always is. My plan isn’t ideal. It rests on little more than wild assumptions and stolen glances, but it’s the best shot we have. In a few minutes, we’re going to tell Nate it’s been too long since we’ve been with another man, and explain that desperate times call for drastic actions. That his boys need him to guide them through a sexual awakening of sorts.
With each other.
Again, not ideal, but I can cope. “For God’s sake. It’s just a hand job. How many times have we masturbated together?”
“I know, but it’s different this time. I’ll be touching you. Or you’ll be touching me?”
I fix a frown on my face. “No. We’re not falling into cycles of self-doubt.” I point down at his erection, refusing to break eye contact. “You’re leaking onto the carpet, Bennet. You want this just as much as I do. If worst comes to worst and I end up with my dick in your hand instead of in Nate’s, I’ll roll with it. Honest to God, you’ve seen me vomit vodka onto a man’s penis; this is hardly groundbreaking territory.”
He snickers. It isn’t a loud laugh, but it’s there, making the room feel a little bit warmer. “Tatum didn’t talk to you for three days.”
I shrug. “I warned him I was drunk as a skunk. It’s not my fault he still demanded I use his dick as a chaser.”
He’s got his bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling gently. When it pops out of his mouth, it’s glossy and pink, the overhead lighting sparkling against his saliva. “Is it bad that we’re trying to fuck our ex-boyfriend’s dad?”
“Probably, but we’re hardly a beacon of normality.” I grab his wrist and squeeze. “No matter what happens, we won’t let it make things weird between us. Okay? All or nothing, beginning to end, that’s me and you. Touching your penis won’t change that.” He still looks worried, and I’m sick of seeing him looking like a Grumpy Gus, so I make a decision I’ll never be able to take back. Reaching down, I wrap my fingers around him, taking my best friend—my brother from another mother—into my hand. It’s like static is pooled at the tips of my fingers because, despite what I may have said a moment ago, this is really fucking weird. Still, I’m kind of enjoying the look of absolute shock on his face. Like, of all the possible ways this evening might play out, he expected this one the least.
“Oh my God,” he whispers, staring at the place our bodies are connected. “Benji, you’re . . . you’re touching me.”
“I am.” I give it a tug just to drive the fact home. “See? The world hasn’t ended. It’s not a big deal.” Then I give him another peck on the cheek before whirling around and heading toward the nightstand. I grab our shared bottle of cologne and spritz three pumps of vanilla-scented goodness—Nate’s ex-wife’s fancy perfume that he still loves so much—onto my skin. I twist my waist so I can hand him the bottle, but his eyes are glued to my butt. It’s a look I’ve never seen before from him, and I can’t really tell what it’s all about, but it makes me feel tingly inside.
“Earth to Bennet,” I say, shaking the bottle. “Are you going to stand there all night, or are we going to go and land us a Daddy?”
We’re both naked, but I don’t want to shock Nate— that name still feels wrong. Why does it feel wrong? —only to have him slam the door in our faces, so I improvise. I snatch a matching pair of baby-blue jockstraps, tossing one at Bennet before sliding into the second. Bennet’s still fumbling with his package when I’m done, so I cross the room until I’m in front of him. I reach into his jock, lifting his cock so it’s more prominent. Since neither of us has much to work with, every little bit helps. When I’m done, I remove my hand from his penis and take a step back, eyeing him up and down.
“Well?” he asks. Bennet seems nervous, and I can’t say I blame him, because I feel like I’ve got a hive of hornets buzzing around inside me. I look him up and down, taking inventory of Bennet Anderson. His pale skin is soft like satin, not a hair to be seen, thanks to the hair remover we slather on each other once a week. He’s a bit more muscular than me, though not by much. While I’m basically skin and bones, Bennet has some real definition. There are little grooves in his abdomen, outlining the beginnings of a six-pack, thanks to the Tom Daley YouTube workout videos he insists are to help him obtain an Olympian’s body, when in reality, he just wants to see a twenty-something twink’s near-nude ass.
“You look beautiful,” I answer honestly. His hand is right there, and it’s looking lonely, so I take hold of him, wanting to remind him he’s not in this alone. He’s never in it alone, not as long as I’m around. “You always look beautiful.”
A blush spreads across his face, and he meets my gaze long enough to give me a smile and a nod. “You too.” Clearing his throat, he looks at the door, then back at me. “So, we’re really doing this?”
“Are you changing your mind?”
He quickly shakes his head, not looking me in the eyes. “No. Not changing my mind. Just scared.”
Bennet’s never scared. We’re both just little guys, but he’s always done everything he can to protect me. From the schoolyard bullies and the hateful popular twinks who used to call me mean names while we were dancing at the bar. This whole plan was my idea, and Bennet’s the one carrying the weight of the worry on his shoulders. I want to take it onto myself so he never has to feel it again. I want to wrap my arms around him and promise I’ll take care of him if this doesn’t work out. I want to do so many things, but my cowardice wins out, and I do the only thing I can. I lean closer and kiss his cheek, just a few inches from his lips.
“Thank you for doing this,” I say. “If it goes wrong, then at least we’ll know.”
“And if it goes right . . .?”
I slide my hand into his and squeeze. “Come with me and find out.”
Bennet gives me a nervous nod, and I lead him out of our room, toward Nate’s at the end of the hall. Looking over at Bennet, I try to assure him, but he’s staring down at his feet, holding his half-heart necklace for support.
“I love you, Bennet,” I whisper.
“Love you too, Benji.” He squeezes my hand even tighter.
I knock twice, wanting this to be over with so we’ll finally have our answer, but I’d be lying if I said the act we’re about to put on doesn’t make me uncomfortable.
“All or nothing,” I whisper, most of my nervousness fading when my best friend squeezes my hand and says, “Beginning to end.”