Chapter 34 Mickey
The loft is quiet that night after the bar closes. The bar goes silent in stages — the jukebox cutting off, the last barstools scraping, Tex’s heavy tread crossing the floor. Then nothing.
Benji closes the sliding door. He turns around and leans against the glass with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Come here,” I say.
He crosses the room and stands between my knees. His hands find my face, tilting it up, his thumbs on my cheekbones. He bends down and kisses me. My hands go to his hips, pulling him closer.
“I want to try something new tonight,” I say. “If you’re willing.”
“I’m always willing. Tell me.”
“I want to be inside you, Benji.”
His whole body goes still. His hands are on my face, his thumbs frozen on my cheekbones. He drops to his knees in front of the chair so we’re eye level. His hands grip my thighs.
“Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” he asks. “Do you have any idea?”
“Probably about as long as I have.”
He lets out a laugh. “I doubt it. Since the first time you put your hands on me on that counter at rehab I’ve been lying in my bed in Miami thinking about what it would feel like to have you inside me. I told you I was going to rock your world if I ever got the chance. Remember that?”
“I remember.”
“I meant it. Every word. I’ve had this planned in my head for weeks, Mickey. The positioning, the angles, everything. I’ve got it all figured out.” He’s smiling, his eyes blazing. “You don’t need to worry about a single thing. Sit back, relax, enjoy the ride. Literally.”
“You’ve already planned this?”
“Of course. How many times do I need to tell you. Planner is in my job title. I plan. And I do yoga four times a week. Pilates since I was twenty-three. My hip flexors are a marvel of modern fitness. I can hold positions you would not believe.” He leans forward, his mouth close to my ear.
“I’ve got this. All you have to do is let me. ”
“There’s one thing I need to tell you about,” I say. “I took a blue pill. The doctors prescribed them. For blood flow. For the mechanics part.”
I brace for the moment to shift. For his face to change. For pity or discomfort or the careful neutral expression people use when they’re trying not to react.
Benji sits back on his heels. “Awesome,” he says. “That’s smart. Why didn’t you say something before?”
“I wasn’t sure how you would feel about it. You don’t—”
“Mickey. Do you know how many men take that pill? They take them recreationally, not because they medically need it.” He puts his hand on my knee.
“My friend Nicholas took one at a club once because his ex-boyfriend showed up. He wanted to be ready for whatever the night brought. What the night brought was a painful three-hour conversation with a bartender about astrology while the pill was very much still working. He had to carry his jacket in front of him when he left the club. I laughed so hard I called Dante at three in the morning to tell him about it.”
I’m laughing. The knot in my stomach loosening.
“So yes,” Benji says. “Take the pill. Take two. Thank modern medicine.”
“No, not two. The doctor made that clear. Only take one.”
“Oh, right,” he says. “Good point. I got overexcited there. Never come to me for medical advice. Now stop talking about it because I have plans for you tonight that require your full attention. When did you take it?”
“About thirty minutes.”
He grins and stands. “Excellent. We’re wasting time. Move it. I’ll go freshen up quickly.” He kisses me once, hard, his hand on the back of my neck. Then he steps back, giving me room.
I transfer to the bed and settle back against the headboard, legs arranged on the navy comforter. He returns a few minutes later. When I glance up, he’s staring at my arms.
“What? Is something wrong?”
“Absolutely not,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head. “I’m drooling over your arms again. They cause me to lose brain cells. I thought you should know.”
He climbs onto the bed. His mouth finds my neck, my jaw, the spot below my ear. My hands go to his back — the lean muscle along his spine, the dip at the base. His mouth moves from my neck to my chest, trailing heat, his tongue tracing a line between my pecs.
He strips my shorts off, then his own shorts and boxers. He’s naked, hard, his cock curving toward his stomach. He sees me staring.
“Enjoying the view?” he asks.
“Always. This is one view I’ll never get tired of.”
He swings one leg over me. Settles onto my lap, knees on either side of my hips, weight on me. His cock pressed against my stomach, hot. My cock is already responding. His hips shift against me, a deliberate roll.
“There you are,” he whispers.
He reaches over the side of the bed into his overnight bag on the floor. He rummages without looking, his mouth still on my neck, his hand searching by feel. He comes up with a small bottle, holding it up like a trophy.
“I’ve been carrying this in my bag,” he says. “Waiting and hoping. Do you know the level of self-control that takes? I’m not a patient man, Mickey.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He uncaps the bottle and pours the lube onto his fingers. He lifts up and reaches behind himself—
“Wait,” I say. “Let me do it. Give me the bottle.”
He places it in my hand without hesitation. I uncap it and pour a generous amount of cool lube over my fingers, letting it warm slightly in my palm.
“Now turn around for me,” I tell him. “I want to do this properly.”
Benji’s breath catches. He swings one leg over and turns so he’s straddling me in reverse.
From this angle, his lean body looks incredible — the smooth skin on his lower back, the two dimples above his firm, rounded ass, and the smooth, toned thighs framing everything.
His hair falls forward as he leans slightly, presenting himself.
“Fuck, Benji…” I murmur. “Look at you.”
I spread one cheek with my thumb, fully exposing his tight, pink hole. It flutters slightly under my gaze. His cock hangs heavy and flushed between his spread legs, steadily leaking precum.
I press one slick finger against him, circling the tight ring of muscle gently. He shudders above me. “Relax for me.” I push forward, sliding the first finger inside. He’s incredibly tight, the smooth heat gripping me as I work it deeper. A low, broken moan escapes him.
“More,” he breathes. “Another finger.”
I add a second finger, scissoring them gently, stretching him open. The wet sound of the lube fills the room as I curl my fingers, searching for the spot. When I find it, his whole body jumps and he lets out a sharp, needy sound.
“Right there?” I ask, rubbing the spot again.
“Yes— fuck, yes,” he gasps. “Feels so good…”
I keep working him open, eventually adding a third finger, thrusting them while my other hand strokes his hip.
His lean body leans above me, thighs shaking as he pushes back onto my fingers.
I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight — my thick fingers disappearing between his perfect ass cheeks, the way his hole stretches around them, shiny and slick with lube, and the constant drip of precum falling from his hard cock.
“You look so fucking good like this,” I groan. “You have such a gorgeous ass, Benji. Tell me how this feels.”
“Like every time you’ve ever touched me was building to this. Please. I’m ready. I need you inside me. “
I pull my fingers free from his body, watching as his stretched hole flutters around nothing for a moment. Grabbing the bottle again, I pour more lube over my aching cock and stroke myself, spreading the slickness thoroughly.
“Turn back around,” I say, voice rough with need. “I want to see your face when I’m inside you.”
Benji nods, breathing hard. He lifts up on shaky knees and turns around to face me again. As he swings his leg over, I get one last glimpse of his flushed ass before he settles straddling my hips.
He reaches behind himself, wraps his hand around my slick cock, and lines me up. The moment the swollen head of my cock presses against his tight, lubed hole, a sharp pulse of pleasure shoots through me.
“Ready?” he whispers, eyes locked on mine. His face is beautifully flushed, lips parted, pupils blown wide.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Don’t rush. I want to feel every second of this.”
Benji lowers himself, his thighs working, the muscles shifting under his skin. His body resists for one moment then opens around me, hot, tight, drawing me in inch by inch. I feel his body closing around me, enveloping me, taking me in. It moves up through my core, pushes the air out of my lungs.
“Oh God,” I groan, hands gripping his narrow hips. “Benji… I can feel you. You’re so fucking tight and hot around me. I can’t believe I’m finally inside you.”
A long, broken moan falls from his lips as he continues sinking down. His inner walls squeeze me rhythmically, pulling me in until finally he’s fully seated. His ass rests against my hips, my cock buried completely inside him. The intense heat and pressure make my head spin.
“Mickey,” he gasps. “You’re so deep. I can feel all of you inside me.”
I reach up and cup his face, brushing my thumbs across his cheekbones. “I can feel you too. I know exactly where I am. You feel so fucking perfect wrapped around me.”
“I’m going to move now,” he whispers.
“Yes, please.”
His hips roll forward — a fluid motion that starts deep in his core, his body rising an inch then sinking back.
The drag of him around me, the pressure shifting, sends a fire through me that makes my hands dig into his hips.
My fingers press into the V-line, the cut of muscle I’ve been staring at forever.
Each downward slide makes his lean body shudder.