Chapter 18 #2
We found a rhythm surprisingly easily. Another way we communicated in sync. Benji came silently, his body stiffening for a moment before he pulled out, still spouting, to drop his weight on me and devour my mouth, tasting himself there as he convulsed once, twice more.
Barely leaving himself time to come down from the high, Benji slid down my body, straddling my legs to stroke me, a look of such serious concentration on his face that it reminded me of him at the computer while we worked.
“The ceremony’s at noon,” he began apologetically, “but I have to be there by nine for this breakfast thing with some of the other PhD grads in my department,” he said as he pumped.
“I’ll leave you a ticket, okay?” I sat up and reached for his wrist, putting a stop to his ministrations though he continued to grip me with the same pressure I was putting on his wrist.
“Benji, sweetheart. You have to go get ready.”
“But … you …”
I kissed him again, softly, ignoring every impulse I had to ravage his mouth as he had just done mine. I pulled back instead and gently removed his hand from my throbbing member. I may have never done anything more difficult.
“No buts. I am perfectly capable of … finishing this job. Go. Get in the shower.”
“Wait,” he whispered, like it was a question or a revelation.
“What, sweetheart?” My voice came out high pitched as I squeezed my cock, anxious to finish what Benji had started.
“I want to watch. I’m going to take the fastest shower known to man and come back here to get dressed. You are going to sit there and wait.” His eyes flared as if he was shocked at not only what he’d said but the demanding tone in which he’d said it.
“I mean, um, if that’s okay?” That dominant demand had been fucking hot, and his stuttering was absolutely adorable, and despite the chaos of that contradiction, I couldn’t imagine finding another person more endearing, feeling more connected, more in love.
I was studied enough in social cues to know it was way too soon to be thinking that yet alone saying it, so I kept the thought to myself.
But my feelings meant that I wanted to give Benji whatever he wanted.
I’d never been one to play games in bed, but suddenly I was all in.
I released my cock after one last squeeze, raising my hands to shoulder height.
“Go on, then.” I tried not to sound desperate or besotted. The croak in my voice may have helped with the latter. “Get in the shower, sweetheart.”
He inhaled sharply, looking at my hands, in surrender, and then at my member, standing at attention, flushed and ready. “Fuck, I may come again,” he growled, bending and tossing the dirty towel from the night before at me, looking me up and down with another sigh before turning to leave the room.
“That seems unfair,” I yelled after him, laughing as I wiped off my messy hands before picking up my phone, hoping for a distraction from the torture between my legs.
I dragged down my notifications, finding one from Ben politely thanking me for dinner.
A surge of guilt certainly helped me ignore my body’s impulses.
It was obvious that Ben was worried about his son, and I could only respect him for that.
With any luck, I would see him at Benji’s graduation in mere hours, and Benji and I would just have to make him understand about a lot more than our working relationship.
I left Ben’s message unread for the time being and swiped over to my years-long text chain with Beck, the most recently unread message staring at me as if he’d written it in bold.
Beck: Not answering your phone. Not in your office or in the lab. Do you need me to send Ross with an NDA?
I scrolled up through the rest of the unread messages while listening to his voicemail.
“Hey, Ani, just surprised that you're not in the building. I was curious to hear how dinner with your old friend went.”
Before that voicemail, Beck had left an earlier text message.
Beck: Not asleep in your office? I thought for sure you’d come back here after dinner with the dad. You’re obviously asleep somewhere since you didn’t pick up. Or are you in your lab? I’m headed your way.
I heard the bathroom door open as another text popped up.
Beck: Jesus Christ, Ani. Please tell me you went home ALONE after family dinner with the Warrens, or that you’re with some rando from Guys/Guys, or whatever it’s called.
Another text immediately followed.
Beck: Please tell me you’re not with Benji.
Unfortunately, the distraction worked wonders. When I heard Benji’s footsteps returning, I slapped the phone on the nightstand and grabbed hold of my rapidly deflating dick.
Benji stood framed by the door, a towel slung low around his slim waist, droplets gliding down his chest, his hair sticking up in adorable every-which-way curls, clearly having been quickly toweled dried.
His suit coat, which he had tossed aside in the living room the night before, was draped over his arm, my glasses swinging in his hand.
“I waited for you,” I promised, stroking my cock back to fullness.
Benji smiled, dropping the jacket at my feet and placing my glasses on my face.
His damp hands held me in place for a quick kiss before he walked around the bed, his eyes on me as he slid open his closet door.
He turned quickly to find what he was looking for in the small space, a shirt and tie hung together.
He draped them on the bed, next to the coat.
Then he pulled the towel off and ran it over his chest and back, his eyes on my dick while I watched him dry off, his pink skin glowing, his cock, nestled in a thick patch of hair as dark as his head, hanging low between his legs.
He stopped, with the towel pressed to his chest, watching me.
“You need to get dressed, sweetheart.”
“I need to suck you off again,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“No time, Benji.” I stopped my motion for a second. “Get dressed,” I ordered, trying to sound as domineering as he had when he’d told me to stop stroking myself and wait for him.
“I’ll just have to lie here and imagine it,” I continued, breathless. “You, bending over my achingly hard penis, facing me this time with those chocolate eyes. Your mouth, warm and wet, taking all of me in.” I resumed my motions, my hips getting in on the action, my eyes locked with his.
“You’d take all of me again, wouldn’t you? My tip hitting the back of your throat …” I thrust up, unsure what to say next. Surprised at myself for imagining that much.
Walking sideways to keep his eyes on me, Benji pulled open a dresser drawer, which, like everything else in his room, was substantial and well-built, made of some kind of natural wood, shellacked to a bright sheen. His hand emerged with a pair of black briefs and quickly pulled them on.
“Taking all of you in. God, Ani. I can’t wait to be on my knees for you.”
“Me either, sweetheart. And I can’t wait to be on mine for you. Or bent over …”
Benji was fiddling with the clothes on the hanger, but his head snapped up, and he completed my sentence while fighting the tie and the shirt buttons.
“Oh, God, yes. Bent over a desk in the lab while you fuck me. I’ve dreamed of that.”
“Or you fuck me.” We both watched the moisture dribbling down my hand. I would usually be two or three applications deep in lube by that point in pleasuring myself.
Our eyes locked, and I wanted to remind him once more that he needed to hurry, but instead, my hand began to fly, squeezing and flicking like it had a mind of its own. He watched, but he wasn’t watching the action, he was watching my face.
Slowly, he began to nod. “You going to come for me?”
“Yes!” I screamed as I did, writhing on his bed in a manner I rarely ever let myself experience, even in the privacy of my own home. I wanted to put on a show for him, and instinctively, I did as a white stream shot out of my dick like some slow-motion porn shot.
I may have grunted a few more “yeses” before I came down enough to shout one more time.
“Get dressed, Benji! You’ll be late.”
“Yes, sir.”
I cleaned myself with that really dirty towel once more before running to the bathroom. My hands and body devoid of any sticky residue, I returned in time to thread the pre-tied tie over Benji’s head.