2. Bennet
CHAPTER 2
BENNET
“ I want him,” Benji admits, squeezing my hand. As we drive to the old, closed-down Wal-Mart on Highway 80, he repeats the words more times than I can count, and it doesn’t stop once we reach our destination. He keeps whining about it the whole time we walk across the parking lot.
“Yeah,” I say, gripping his hand. “It’s blatantly obvious.” When we reach the double doors, there’s a note telling us the place is closed. Following our recruiter’s instructions, I lift the sign away from the wall, draw a star shape on the inconspicuous touchpad beneath, and wait to be buzzed inside. While we wait, I turn, leaning against the wall. “I don’t understand you at all sometimes.”
He cocks his head to the side, his shiny platinum-blond hair reflecting the relentless Texas sun at me, making me wince. “What do you mean?”
“You dry-humped him to completion, Benji, then you wiped your load on his bare skin.”
He takes a step forward and pokes me in the chest. “Nate told you to be nice to me today. I am a delicate flower; it doesn’t take much to break me. Fucking rude, Bennet.”
“He’s our ex-boyfriend’s father. It’s weird, and it’s icky.”
“It’s only weird and icky if you make it that way. He cares about us. You’ve seen the way he’s always looking out for me. He wore my cum to work because he knew I wanted it, and he didn’t even argue. If that’s not Daddy material, I don’t know what is.”
“He’s not gay. If you don’t cut it out, he’s going to catch on, and then what happens? You realize if he kicks us out, we’ve got nowhere to go, right? It’s you and me. We don’t have anyone else.”
“There’s Tatum.”
I shake my head firmly. “No. Absolutely not. Not while they’ve still got the monster tied up in their closet.” The moment the words are out, I regret them.
Stupid.
Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid, Bennet.
Sure enough, when I look into Benji’s eyes, tears are forming in the corners. I bridge what little distance separates us and press my hand against his chest, grabbing his wrist and guiding his palm to my heart. Normally, this is how I guide him back to me. Heart to heart, I remind him he’s mine. But this time, it’s not taking. His eyes just get damper and damper until a teardrop spills over and drips slowly down his cheek.
I could kill Benito for what he put us through. I’m not very strong, but I was strong enough to bear the brunt of his abuse. I soaked up his rage like a sponge, so there was little left for him to pour on Benji. I took it all for four months before Nito decided I wasn’t fun to torture anymore, then he threw me in the attic like an old forgotten suitcase.
We tried to run away once. Well, I tried to run. I suggested it to Benji, and the terrified look he gave me felt like a knife to the chest. He didn’t trust me. How could he? He was right there with me. He knew the extent of Nito’s wrath. That night, I dosed Benji with enough Benadryl to sedate an elephant, and I attempted carrying him out of our shared townhouse, away from Benito Blankenship. Benji and I weigh the same, though, and neither of us are all that strong. I only made it to the front door before falling back on my ass, waking Nito.
The things he did to me—the things he threatened to do to Benji if I ever tried to escape again—I don’t know if they’ll ever leave me. The memories pop up at inopportune times, locking me in place. But Benji doesn’t know about that. He has no idea what I did to keep him safe. He doesn’t know the lengths I would go to, just to ensure he’s happy.
“I’m right here, baby,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against his. “You’re okay, and you’re safe. We’re okay.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, mumbling something under his breath I can’t make out. Then, I hear it. The little cracks in his voice when he whines, “Nate,” are enough to crack my heart in my chest. Anger rises in me, because I’m the one Benji should be picturing when he’s out on that emotional ledge. I’m the one who saw him through the worst times. I was there, I’m always there.
It should be me he’s clinging to, but it’s not. While I know it’s not Nate’s fault, that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
So, with my heart not being strong enough to bring him back, I do the only thing I can. I give Benji back to Nate. I take the hand that’s touching my heart, and I slide it against his hip, placing it in the same place Benji’s semen is currently located on Nate.
“He’s wearing you, remember? He’s wearing you, so you know you’re safe. You’re okay, Benji, I promise.” I kiss his forehead. His cheek. Each of his earlobes. The tip of his nose. I just keep kissing and kissing until his breathing finally steadies. Using my thumbs, I softly brush his tears away, not bothering to wipe away the one that just fell down my cheek. My hurt doesn’t matter right now. My feelings don’t matter. The light is returning to his eyes, and it’s enough to light up the whole damn world.
“Bennet,” he whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Is it ever gonna get easier? Am I always gonna feel so broken?”
I kiss his forehead, holding him against me, right where he belongs. “You’ve got me. We can be broken together. I’ll keep you safe.”
He sniffles. “I had you before, and we weren’t safe then. We need someone, Bennet. We need a daddy, cause we’re no good on our own.”
While I agree with the sentiment, I don’t agree with Benji’s choice of potential Daddies. It’s not that I don’t like Nate, because I think I kind of do. He isn’t a daddy, though. He’s a dad. More specifically, he’s our ex-boyfriend’s dad. He’s essentially our dad, now that we don’t have anyone else. If Benji pursues this, we run the risk of losing the roof over our heads. Then there’s Tatum; if he finds out one of his ex-boyfriends is throwing himself at his father, we’ll lose him too. Goodbye Nate. Goodbye bedroom. Goodbye Tatum. Goodbye safety net.
“We’ll find someone, okay?” I insist. “Leave it to me, and I’ll find us the perfect Daddy.”
Benji’s arms crush around my waist. “I don’t want another Daddy. I want him, Bennet. I want you to want him too. Please? I won’t ask you for anything else, I promise. Just give him a chance.”
I pull away and stare down at him. The hurt in his eyes is almost unbearable, and it just makes me hurt right along with him, knowing I’m the one who put it there. I open my mouth to speak, but the door’s lock clicks and the sliding-glass doors open, cutting me off. I share a look with Benji before reaching down and taking his hand. It’s probably not professional for new hires to walk hand in hand, but I don’t really give a damn about professionalism. I didn’t even want this stupid job to begin with.
The last time we were here, our ex-boyfriend’s fiancé had been shot. We were here for days, initially we were all waiting to find out about Kincaid’s condition, then, to watch over Tatum as he slept. He’d been in such a state after his now-husband was shot that the man in charge—Agent Meadows—decided it would be best to keep him sedated until the dust settled. During that time, Benji refused to leave his side, and I can’t be without Benji, so I stuck to him like glue.
He squeezes my hand when we walk into the old empty Wal-Mart. Just like last time, the entryway looks run-down and crumbling. There’s a cement partition about three-fourths of the way into the store. To the untrained eye, one might take the building at face-value, not realizing there’s a vast underground tunnel system filled with twists and turns and even a few dead ends to thwart potential terrorists from taking the place by storm. Well, that’s what the onboarding email Agent Meadows sent us said, at least.
Speaking of the unnecessarily sexy devil. A section of the wall slides open, the unbearably loud scraping sound ripping through my eardrums and making me wince. Behind him, there’s light pouring into the dark, dusty building, making him look like a silhouette. He walks toward us, his dress shoes click-click-clicking against the dusty old tiles. While Nate is an attractive man with strikingly luscious features—the little ring of hair around his bald spot, particularly—the sight of Meadows makes my heart thunder in my chest. I can’t remember the last time a man made me as swoony as this guy. When we were here with Tatum, the tall ginger murder daddy refused to leave our sides. He clung to us like a shadow, making sure we were all right and offering us drinks, snacks and—because Benji loves them so much—coloring books. Now, he’s got the same wide smile that seemed locked in place last time. His red hair is curly and wild, looking like he just drove here with the windows down, not giving a damn about his appearance in the slightest, while still remaining devastatingly beautiful.
“Boys,” he greets, holding both hands out for us. I take his left and Benji takes his right. He gives us both three firm pumps, and it makes me wonder what else he might like to pump.
I’ve got six inches. He’s welcome to all of them.
Okay, maybe that’s a lie, but it’s hardly the point. Whether my penis is six inches or five—maybe four, but who’s counting—it doesn’t matter.
“You’ve got really soft hands,” Benji points out for no reason whatsoever.
I’m not even sure how it’s humanly possible, but Meadows’s dark-red lips spread even wider. “Thank you, Benjamin. I started a new exfoliation routine last month. My wife said it was either that, or I could forget about ever touching her again.” A strange, sullen look crosses his face, but it vanishes in seconds, and he’s back to his chipper self.
I didn’t realize he was married, and it kind of feels like someone’s taken the wind out of my sails. Honestly, I thought he might be a good Daddy for us, after the way he doted on Benji and me the last time we were here. Talk about unnecessary wrenches being thrown into half-formed plans.
“It’s just this way,” he says, pointing at the small opening in the concrete. We follow him, and I wince again when the cement wall closes behind us. The hallway is long, and the black walls are covered with pictures of Tatum’s husband’s ex-girlfriend, Fiona. Under each one is a plaque with the words Employee of the Month. I count thirty-three of them before we run out of wall space. We’ve come to a dead end, but just like last time we were here, Meadows traces the shape of a star on the cement, and it flashes pink-pink-pink. The wall retracts, welcoming us into a waiting room. There’s a help desk at the back with two leather office chairs, side-by-side.
“Those are for us?” Benji asks.
Meadows gives him a nod. “Damn right, buddy.”
“Do you stay busy enough to warrant two receptionists?” I ask. It’s a question I’ve been wondering for weeks, ever since we accepted the job offer from Meadows. At the time he reached out to us, I’d been more concerned about working for trained killers than the reasoning behind hiring two men for one position.
“Nope,” he says, as if it’s the most normal response in the world. “I really enjoyed getting to know you boys last time you were here, and I thought it would be nice to get to see you every day.” He throws a wink my way, making my heart flutter in my chest. With one hand on the small of my back and the other on Benji’s, he guides us behind the help desk and tells us to have a seat. Meadows walks around the half-circle-shaped desk and leans against it, propping himself on his elbows. Behind him, there’s a floor-length mirror, giving me an unobstructed view of his statuesque ass in those tight gray slacks.
“Cat got your tongue, Bennet?” Meadows asks. When I pry my eyes away from the mirror, both he and Benji are looking at me with amused expressions.
“Huh?”
“You just seemed a little distracted,” Meadows says.
Benji shakes his head, pointing behind him. Looking over my shoulder, I spot another mirror on the wall. “He just caught you staring at his butt,” Benji says matter-of-factly, looking down at our desk. His hands are everywhere, touching this and that like he’s trying to mark staplers and tape dispensers with his scent so no one will steal them.
My eyes are bulging out of my head, I’m sure, but Meadows doesn’t seem to mind. He flashes me another of his swoony smiles, chuckling softly. “Don’t worry,” he soothes reassuringly. “I don’t mind. I’m not gay, but a gentleman never turns up his nose at a compliment.” Reaching across the desk, he pinches my cheek. “Look at it as much as you want to, kid. Everyone else does.”
“No thank you,” Benji says, reaching for something in the corner of the desk. His eyes are wide as saucers as he grabs a copy of Highlights Magazine and shakes it excitedly in Meadows’s face. “Tell me these are for us.”
Meadows nods. “All for you, boys. There are crayons in the top drawer and markers in the second. I also stocked the bottom drawer with fruit snacks and bottles of water.” Clearing his throat, he stands up straight, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll be down in the operation bay most of the morning, so I won’t be able to give you much training, but the job’s pretty straightforward. You sit here, look adorable, and go home at five.”
Benji’s still rearranging the items on the desk, not paying much attention to Meadows, but he asks, “What if the phone rings? Do we set up appointments or something?”
Meadows shakes his head, but Benji’s not looking up to see it. “Everything’s handled electronically, for the most part. The only people you’ll see are other employees, and we only have ten total. They can let themselves in, and they’ve got the codes to get to the lower levels, so you don’t have to worry about that, either. Now and then I might ask you to help me out with paperwork. It’s not a very challenging job, I’m afraid, but I think it will suit you.”
“Are you calling us stupid?” Benji asks, opening the stapler and staring at the staples inside like they’re the most fascinating thing in the world. He turns it upside down and giggles like a madman as they fall onto the desk.
“Not in the slightest,” Meadows answers without missing a beat. “I just think it’s time life threw you boys a win.”
He talks to us for a little while longer before excusing himself. Once he’s gone, I look over at Benji and sigh. He’s got his face propped on his arms, having decided a mid-morning nap was the best course of action. Running my fingers through his soft blond hair, I lean in and kiss the side of his forehead.
“We’re going to be okay, baby,” I whisper. “I promise.”
Benji
My fingers are twitching in my pockets, my body electric with nerves. The ride home from work has been spent mostly in silence. Well, I’ve been silent, at least. Bennet keeps going on and on about Agent Meadows. I can tell he’s trying to sell me on the man, but I’m not interested. Not when we’ve got Nate at home. Besides, Meadows is married, and I ain’t a homewrecker.
Bennet pulls into the driveway, parking our shared neon-green Volkswagen Beetle. Nate’s truck is in the garage. He’s home! I’m hopping up and down in my seat, just trying to shake off some of the excitement. I can’t wait to get inside and tell him everything that happened on our first day. He needs to know all of it. The way I rearranged our desk to make it pretty. How I wandered around the lower levels of the agency’s unnecessary labyrinth and got lost in the confusing maze of halls and walls. Most of all, Nate needs to know how he guided me back from an oncoming storm earlier. How my fear simply faded when Bennet reminded me Nate was wearing my cum.
I unhook my seat belt and reach for the door, but pause before opening it. Turning around, I eyeball Bennet. He’s staring ahead at the open garage, looking mentally drained. It’s been so long since we’ve had a job, I know he has to be tired. Even if all we did was sit behind a desk and chit-chat for most of our shift, it was in a new setting, and neither of us is good with change. His hand is on the center console, and he startles when I place mine on top.
“I love you, Bennet,” I tell him, because I do, and it looks like he needs to hear it.
“I love you, too, baby,” he says, his voice light and low. Leaning across the console, I give him a close-mouthed peck on the lips. Usually, that’s a line we don’t cross. It’s not that I’m opposed to the idea of kissing his lips, it just feels strange, because he’s the closest thing to a brother I’ve got. We work well together with another man acting as a buffer. That’s why I need to find us a Daddy. Without one, who are we to each other? I don’t get to watch him suck our Daddy’s cock as I stroke his hair, telling him how well he’s doing. He doesn’t get to rest at my side, holding my hand as Daddy fucks me mercilessly, just the way I like it. It’s like we’re two rusty nails waiting for a board to hammer ourselves into. Well, I guess in this analogy, the wood would be the piece doing the nailing, but that’s not really the point.
“Do you want to jack off tonight?” It’s been a few days for both of us, and I’ve missed that connection. Him and me, side by side, holding each other’s hands as we stroke ourselves. It’s one of my favorite things in the world, because it’s in those moments I know I’m home. We were already bonded as besties when we discovered masturbation, and since then—aside from the time the monster kept us apart—every load we’ve ever shot has been together.
“If you want,” he says, leaning back against the headrest.
“Okay. Yeah, I want to.” I give him another quick kiss, this time on the cheek, before opening the door and hopping out of the car. I move my hand to shut the door, only to remember I forgot my phone in the cup holder. When I look over my shoulder to ask Bennet to grab it for me, his eyes are locked on my butt.
His eyes flicker up yo mine, and a blush spreads through his cheeks. He’s got the same look on his face he does after being fucked into submission, and I quickly realize just how much I’ve missed seeing him lost in a lusty headspace.
“Will you grab my phone?” I finally ask, snapping him back to reality. He blinks a few times before slowly climbing out of the car with my phone snug in his hand. I can grab it later. Right now, Nate needs to know everything about our day, so I run through the garage and into the kitchen.
The house smells incredible! Nate didn’t mention cooking tonight, so I just assumed he’d grab something for us on the way home. He’s standing at the stove, cutting his meatloaf into bread-shaped portions. His meatloaf is probably my favorite thing in the world. Well, my second favorite thing in the world, at least. Top billing will always go to his ass in the pajamas he wears around the house. I don’t think he realizes just how much of himself is on display when he wears them. His cock bounces with each step he takes, making my hole twitch endlessly in anticipation. He’s got them on now, and it takes every ounce of my self-control to refrain from reaching around and sliding my hand beneath the fabric.
I love the way he looks from behind. Not just his perky ass, either, although sonnets could be written to chronicle that work of art. No, more than that, I like the way his love handles spill over the sides. The ring of light brown hair that circles his head, surrounding his bald scalp. That landing strip of smooth skin down the center of his head is just begging to be kissed. Sure, he’d probably look even cuter if he shaved the hair on the sides, but I love Nate just the way he is. He doesn’t have to change himself for me. Not when I already adore the landscape.
He’s singing another ‘90s song as I approach. I love how much he loves old-school pop. The house is constantly buzzing with bops from yesteryear. This evening, he’s singing out that he’s a bitch and lover and someone’s child and a mother, but he’s a guy, so the words don’t make much sense. Doesn’t matter. He can identify as anything, and I’ll love him regardless.
I press my chest against his back, wrapping my arms around his waist, enjoying the way his soft tummy feels against my palm. The first thing I smell is woodsy cologne. I don’t know what this stuff is made out of, but it’s like sandalwood and spice and everything nice. He sets down the knife he’s been using to slice the meatloaf and rests his hand over mine, holding me close against him.
“Hey,” I whisper, wanting to pucker my lips and kiss his shoulder. God. Why does he have to feel so freaking good against me? It’s like he’s been form-fitted, just for me. And if he fits me like a glove, I know he’ll fit Bennet too, considering all my clothes fit him perfectly. Bennet just has to allow himself to have this.
“Hey, baby boy,” he says, squeezing my hand. “How was your day?” His voice sounds a little scratchier than normal.
“Good. Are you okay? Your voice sounds a little rough.”
He squeezes my hand. “I think I might be coming down with a cold. You might not want to stand too close.”
I tighten my grip, because no illness or plague could keep me away from this man. “Not worried. This hug’s worth a thousand colds.”
He looks over his shoulder and smiles at me. I just want to latch my lips on top of his and suck for all I’m worth. Since I’m not a feral beast, I contain myself, but it’s a well-fought battle. He looks up, his gaze fixed behind me. He holds his other arm out for Bennet, but Bennet doesn’t make a move. Just stands there staring at us.
“I missed you, buddy,” he says. “It’s okay, Bennet. I’m not going to bite. Promise.”
Bennet’s eyes flick back and forth between Nate and me before he finally relents. Bennet shuffles forward until he’s standing in front of us. Nate brings Bennet’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss on top. For anyone else, the action might seem romantic in nature, but I don’t think he even realizes the depths of his feelings yet, so it’s just a natural action of reassurance.
Other people might think I’m dumb—and maybe I am, in some aspects—but not when it comes to matters of the heart. It’s in the way he looks at us. The fire that flashes in his eyes when he catches us walking out of the bathroom in only our skin-tight briefs tells me all I need to know.
“May I have a hug, Bennet?” he asks, his voice hopeful. “Would that be okay?” To my surprise, Bennet gives me a quick look, and then he steps forward, awkwardly standing with his arms at his sides, allowing the three-way hug to happen. The man of my dreams has one arm around me and another around the other half of my soul. My Bennet . Bennet and I are wearing our half-heart lockets, and it feels like the cool metal is humming against my chest.
We’re nuzzled up close, leaving no room between us. My lips part, and I give Bennet a quick kiss on the neck. God. He trembles like he might come undone at any second. Yeah. He definitely needs to shoot a load tonight. So do I, because I’m already half-hard from the embrace.
“I missed you, boys,” Nate says, his voice warm like cashmere and milky tea. I want to cuddle in his lap and swallow every sound his voice can make. I want to know them by heart. What he sounds like when he’s lost in pleasure. The way he whimpers when he finds his release. I’ve been fighting off an unwanted erection all day, knowing he’s got my cum on him. Unless he’s washed it away.
Oh, God. Did he? Why does the thought of him removing my semen from his skin make me feel like someone’s just stolen the only happiness I’ve ever known? I need to know it’s still there. It has to be, because he promised. He swore it.
“Nate?” I whisper, earning a kiss to the forehead. His lips are slick, leaving me a little party favor once he retreats. I wipe my forehead, wanting to feel his saliva on my palm. A forget-me-not from the man I love.
“Yeah?”
“You didn’t wash me off, did you? My cum, I mean. Is it still there?”
“Find out for yourself.” His hand finds mine, and he guides me to his hip. Lifting the tail of his shirt with his pinkie, I’m given the sight of my dust-dry load, now flaking down from his skin like slutty snowfall.
“You kept it there all day,” I say, feeling amazed. I know he said he would, but seeing it there makes it real. It’s tangible evidence of what he’s allowed me to do. The depraved depths he lets me venture down without shame or judgment. “For me?”
“I told you I would, and I did. I’ll never lie to you, Benjamin. You either, Bennet. You can trust me. I need you both to know that.”
“We do,” I answer for Bennet. When I look up at Nate, he’s beaming down at me. “Will you wear me tomorrow, too, or was it just a onetime thing?”
“If it makes you feel more secure when I’m away from you, I’ll wear whatever you want me too, buddy. Did it help, today?”
“Yes, sir,” I answer. “Bennet mentioned. . . him . I got sad for a minute, but then he put my hand right here.” I pat the area where my dried load rests on Nate’s stomach and give it a squeeze. “He told me to remember I was all over you, and that as long as I was on your skin, I was safe. I felt better right off the bat.”
“I’m sorry,” Bennet says, his voice breaking. “I felt so bad about it all day, Benji. It was stupid of me. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”
Nate smiles, and there’s a little wetness in his eyes. Tears of pride, I hope, but he cries at everything, so who knows? “Good boy,” he praises, and I beam brightly. He isn’t talking to me, though. He’s staring down at Bennet. “Such a good boy, Bennet.”
Bennet’s eyes blow wide as he looks up, like he can’t believe the affectionate words are being aimed his way. I don’t know why he ever doubts me. I tell him over and over; I know what’s best for us, and right now, in this house, we’re the only souls left in the world. It doesn’t matter what Tatum thinks. Heck, it doesn’t matter what Bennet’s self-doubt thinks about it either. Nate can be our Daddy—I know he can. Bennet just has to trust me.
Bennet looks at me, then back at Nate, and for the first time in ages, he doesn’t look like he hates everything in the world except me. He almost seems happy, the way we used to be when it was just Tatum, us, and our fourth boyfriend, Austin. Before. . . the monster.
“I am?” Bennet asks like he can’t believe the words.
“Dang right, you are,” Nate says, but there’s a playful tone to his voice that I don’t really like. A second ago, he seemed almost dreamy. Now, he’s back to his same silly self. Cracking smiles before cracking jokes. Stealing my nose and giving it back. As much as I love that version of Nate, I want to get to know the other version too.
It’s time to make our move.
It takes a second, but the thought comes fast, almost out of nowhere. Tonight.
It’s happening tonight, and Bennet’s going to hate it.