Twenty-Seven Arya
twenty-seven
Arya
Arya’s heart was hammering.
The sex had been… mind-blowing. He couldn’t remember the last time he came so hard. And all that from a vibrating cock sleeve, some nipple play, and Ben’s… Ben-ness.
He’d basked in the afterglow, boneless and content, as Ben cleaned him up with a damp washcloth, gently coaxing the cum out of his pubes, before pulling his shorts back up for him and taking Simon outside.
But as soon as the door had closed, and Arya was alone with his thoughts, he started to panic.
He was Arya Nazeri. If you looked up slut in the dictionary, you’d find his picture.
He wasn’t the type of guy for repeat business. Much less liking someone.
Damn Ben and his magic hands. Arya hadn’t meant to confess, to crack open like an egg and let his feelings ooze out all over both of them, but here they were. It was all out there and Arya didn’t even know what it meant.
He’d never done something like this before.
He ran to the bathroom and pulled out his phone.
“Please pick up,” he muttered as he FaceTimed the group chat.
The Three Must-o-teers one. Just him and Farzan and Ramin.
He’d never once, in his entire life, called his best friends for advice about a man. But he didn’t know what to do. The only other person he could talk to was Ben… and this was about Ben.
He’d sexed himself into a corner and the only way out was through.
“Hey, Arya, what’s up?” Ramin asked as his face flickered onto the screen. Arya recognized the shelves and framed photos from his home office.
Ramin’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you sitting next to a toilet?”
Arya cranked the volume down low. Ben hadn’t come back in, but still…
“I’m at Ben’s, and—”
Farzan joined the call, too, from his parked car. Arya could make out bundles of paper towels and toilet paper crammed into the rear seat.
“Costco run?” Arya asked.
“It never ends.” Farzan sighed. “Gotta swing by Restaurant Depot, too, before the dinner service. What’s going on? Are you in a bathroom?”
“Ben’s bathroom,” Ramin pointed out.
Farzan’s eyebrows rose. He and Ramin both stared at their phones, waiting for Arya.
His heart leapt up into his throat. He swallowed it down.
“I need advice.” Farzan and Ramin nodded and waited patiently, but Arya couldn’t get the words out.
Shit.
He took a deep breath. These were his friends. His best friends, who both had boyfriends, who had found love. Not his parents, who were married and hated each other.
“I came over to Ben’s today and we talked and I let slip that it’s not feeling very fake and then he told me it wasn’t feeling very fake to him, either,” Arya blurted out.
Farzan’s eyebrows climbed toward his hair, but Ramin grinned wide, his dimples popping. “Told you so,” he said.
Farzan laughed. “I didn’t disagree with you. I just said I wasn’t sure.”
“Sure about what?” Arya asked.
“If you and Ben were more serious than you let on.”
“We weren’t. We’re not. We…” Arya rubbed his head. “I don’t know. You know how long it’s been since I dated someone? For real?”
Arya had tried dating, back in his twenties, after he came out. But he’d never gotten serious with anyone. In the end, it had been more like long-term dick appointments than anything serious.
“So?” Farzan asked.
“So, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“You’ll figure it out. That’s what all of us do. Right?”
Ramin nodded sagely. “You know it’s okay if you do date him. Right?”
Arya shrugged. He’d spent so long as the group slut. He wasn’t sure he knew how to be anything different.
“Arya?” Ben called.
“Be right out!” Arya hollered through the door. Then he whispered, “I gotta go. Love you guys.”
He hung up before they could even say goodbye, stuffed his phone in his pocket, and levered himself up off the floor, his knee giving a little creak as he stood. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands.
When he emerged, Simon was back on the couch, curled up against Ben’s side. He’d changed his shorts at some point, too.
Shit. His bedroom shared a wall with the bathroom. Had he heard everything?
Well, too late now. They were doing this.
Arya sat on Ben’s free side, reached for Ben’s hand.
Ben smiled and curled their fingers together.
“Should we talk about it?” Arya asked.
Ben swallowed. Arya was obsessed with the shape of Ben’s neck. The graceful curve of it, the angle of his Adam’s apple, the way it connected to the jut of his chin…
Sweet notarized fuck, he was turning sappy.
“I guess I’ve been feeling it for a while,” Ben said softly. “That things were… well. Not quite the same anymore.”
“Me too.” Arya huffed. “Some job we did following the fucking rules, huh?”
Ben sighed. “Yup.”
“So… what now?”
“What do you want to happen?” Ben asked.
Shit. Why did it have to be Arya’s choice?
He wasn’t good at this shit. He wasn’t good at being romantic or vulnerable or selfless. He’d been single for so long. He only knew how to take care of himself.
But damn it. He wanted to try.
“Maybe we can try… really dating?” he asked.
Ben chuckled. “How would that be different from what we’ve been doing, exactly?”
Arya shrugged and looked down at their linked hands. “Well, for one, we wouldn’t have to practice so much. We could just kiss. And we could do more than just one date night a week.”
“What about the rules? Are they all abrogated, then?”
Arya’s mouth went dry.
The rules were all that kept them from getting hurt. From making a mess of everything. Especially rule number three.
But right now, curled up together, after an amazing orgasm and an even more amazing massage, after being vulnerable and holding Ben’s vulnerability in return… none of that seemed to matter.
He wanted to take the chance.
“Listen… I haven’t really dated before. Like, ever. So you’ll have to be patient. This is all new to me. But I’m game if you are.”
Ben went quiet for a second. Arya’s throat clamped shut.
Had he gone too far? Asked for too much? Had he read everything wrong?
Shit, was it too late to backpedal?
But Ben pulled their hands up. He planted a soft kiss on Arya’s fingers.
“Works for me.”
“Yeah?” Arya’s chest felt like a confetti cannon about to go off. “So what d’you say? Boyfriends? For real?”
“Yeah. Boyfriends.” He met Ben’s inky eyes, shining behind his glasses. “For real.”