23. Samuel #3
I squeezed more lube into my palm, coating myself until I gleamed, then let my sticky hand glide through Benji’s crack one more time.
I slid my tip along his pucker like I’d seen in a movie, completely ignoring that my hand was now sticky and I had no idea what to do with it, and then pressed my dick against his hole.
Benji's mouth opened wide. I pushed. My glans moved into him, and once it was inside, I paused.
He panted. I eased forward a little more. He drew a gasp and clenched my face.
“Are you okay?” My clean, non-sticky hand searched his chest.
“Keep going,” he grunted.
I did, a high moan spilling from him as I pressed until my base brushed against his ass cheeks.
His hole puckered. His muscles tensed. Heat shot to my head.
He held his breath. My hand wandered up, caressing his chin, and he finally remembered to inhale again.
And the more he breathed, the more relaxed everything became.
“You feel amazing,” I whispered, leaning over him. “But you don’t need to push yourself. If it’s too much, we can stop.”
“It already got better. Just... move. Slowly.”
He gifted me a little peck on my lips before settling his head back into the pillow. I drew my hips back an inch, maybe two, and pushed in again. He twitched, gasped, his whole face clenching, but when I paused, he melted further around me.
His right hand found mine, our fingers interlacing.
“Again,” he whispered.
As ordered, I pulled out and pushed back in—another clenched face, but this time less hurt.
“Again.”
I moved a little faster.
He squeezed my hand. “Yeah, keep going.”
And I did. Between each thrust, I paused—each pause getting shorter and shorter over time, until we found a rhythm.
He slung his arms around my back. I leaned over him, kissing him, as he took me like this wasn’t his first time. We’ve done so much before, but this felt like the summit we’d be climbing toward. There was no physical way to be any closer, and I loved every second of it.
I buried my face in his neck, panting as I moved in and out of him.
“This feels so good,” I said. “I freaking love you, Benji.”
His mouth fell open, probably wanting to say it back, but it was like his brain didn’t work that way anymore. “Cum in me,” he said instead, and somehow that meant even more.
The second the words left his mouth, something in me flipped. I thrust harder. Faster. His moans got louder. His teeth found my neck and bit, turning what was already mind-consuming up another notch.
His arms clung to his back, unwilling to ever let me go, and he moaned like he was trying to win a moaning contest.
After a minute, I joined in, moaning even louder than him, until my lips sealed his and muffled us both. His ass took me so easily by now it felt like it was made for this.
“I’m close,” I whispered.
“Fuck yeah,” he groaned, his hand rushing to his dick, wrapping around his shaft, stroking as I drove into him. His eyes stayed on me like he didn’t want to miss a second, but I couldn’t focus anymore.
My mouth dropped open. The tension in my dick tightened too much to hold, and I let go, exploding inside of him. My hips kept moving. Each thrust drained more cum out of me, my legs trembling harder than they ever had.
Benji’s moans rose to a high note, and just as I looked down, he shot his load between our chests, some hitting me, the rest landing on him: four full bursts, the greatest mess of all our messes.
I let my head sink, resting against his, until a chuckle escaped Benji.
“That... man... why didn’t we do this sooner?” He blew out a breath, grinning up at me. “We’ll be doing that again, soon.”
“Please,” I said.
“But the other way around next time. You have to experience this! It’s the most awesome fucking thing in the world.”
The aftermath felt almost ordinary. We took another shower, this time only to clean up.
I changed the sheets so we wouldn’t have to sleep in the fluids we’d just washed off.
Benji raided my fridge, tore into a slice of cheese, and poured himself a glass of cold water.
I curled under the fresh blanket and watched him stare out through the glass balcony door.
His shoulders dipped, lost in thought, before he turned back to me with a smile.
“Did you like your first date?” he asked as he slid into bed, letting me pull him against my chest.
“It couldn’t have been any better.”
“Definitely not.” He nuzzled into my neck, breathing me in like he wanted to memorize my scent. His arms went slack around me as he buried his face, as if he tried to hide it. At first, I thought nothing of it until he gulped and sniffled twice.
“Are you okay?” I asked, shifting to get a better look at him.
“Everything’s fine. Just... endorphins or something.” His voice was flat.
I rubbed his back, but instead of relaxing, he clung harder to me, every muscle in him tensing. For half a minute, he said nothing, just breathed heavily. I wanted to ask, but held off. He would tell me when he was ready.
Another half minute later, his body finally softened. He adjusted his head so his mouth was free to speak. His voice was quiet, but it still landed a blow: “Maybe I’m a little sad you're leaving.”
His words punched the air out of me. This truth was the one thing we’d both been dodging all night.
“But I don’t want to be sad,” he added. “Not after we had such an amazing day, if that’s okay.”
“Is there anything I can do?” I pulled him closer, tightening the hug.
“Maybe... we can dream a little,” he said, his voice steadier as he settled back, fixing his eyes on the ceiling instead of me. “About how our life would be if I could come with you.”
I glanced at him, unsure whether that would make things worse or better—but if that helped him, nothing was speaking against it.
“We’d definitely need a bigger bed for our apartment,” I said.
“So true.” Benji chuckled, peeking at me. “So, you see us living together. Interesting.”
“I thought that was the whole point.”
“Just making sure.” He raised his hand, swirling his fingers through the air like he was painting.
“We’d have plants on the balcony and in the kitchen, hundreds of them, growing as much produce at home as possible.
So many that you wouldn’t have space for a desk and would have to sit on my lap to do your coursework. ”
“Naked?”
“Is that even a question?”
I laughed and rested my hand on his chest, his heartbeat thumping steadily beneath it. “If you could get any job, what would you do?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’d only care about coming home to you in the evening anyway.” He took my hand and held it. “If I could choose anything, I’d want to do something like what I do now, although that might be tough in the city. Maybe a greenhouse. Or a tree nursery. Do they have those in the city?”
“I could totally see you in a greenhouse. Though you’d probably hide from customers,” I chuckled. “They’d likely get on your nerves.”
“I’d be known as the angry planter,” he said, a grin spreading on his face, “but people would still come to me because my plants are the best in the county.”
“Perfect branding. You’d have an Insta-channel that would basically be one long roast, telling everyone what they’re doing wrong.”
“I’d be famous,” he laughed.
“And I would have to fear that all your fans would try to snatch you away from me.”
“Yeah... that’s not going to happen. Once they see you, they’d try to snatch you away, but I’d fight off every single person.”
“I’d nurse your wounds.”
“Why do you think I’d be wounded?”
“Because you’ll be older?”
“Old and wrinkled?”
“Does that scare you?”
“Am I still with you when I get wrinkles?”
“Of course.”
“Then no.”
I brushed my thumb across his jaw. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them to find mine. The light from my night table reflected in his pupils, as if it could bring that spark of our dream to life.
“One day,” Benji said.
“One day,” I echoed.
We shared another smile before he reached over and turned the lamp off.
The apartment settled into the night as he rolled toward me, hooking his leg over mine, pulling me closer until our chests pressed together.
I buried my face against his shoulder like this dream was already real—and who knew, maybe, if we believed in it hard enough, it would come to life one day.