Chapter 23
Remi
“How long does it usually take?” Benson asks.
The petting-farm barn is dark around us, the only light coming from the heat lamps that are keeping the eggs warm inside their incubator bin.
Granted, it’s plenty warm in the barn. But the chicks need an extra boost through the brooding period, as they can’t regulate their own temperature until they’re several weeks old.
“Twelve to eighteen hours is pretty typical from the time the first holes appear in the eggs to the time they fully hatch.”
Benson nods, the two of us leaned back against the side of the pen. “So it could be now or…anytime before the sun rises.”
“Pretty much,” I say around a chuckle. “You really don’t have to stay, Ben.”
His head tilts my way, his expression serious and calm. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
Well, then.
I try to control my smile, but it’s a lost cause. “Want to watch some Antiques Roadshow while we wait?”
“Yeah?” Benson asks, looking so hopeful my chest squeezes tight.
“Yeah. Why not?”
Without a word, Benson climbs over my outstretched legs and settles on the other side of me before pulling out his phone.
“What—”
“In case you want to lie down,” he answers, opening the BBC app to watch the show.
I stare at the side of his head, my heart thumping wildly. He shifted so I could lie down without resting on my CI. I didn’t even have to ask. I never do.
Benson always orients himself so I can see him, understand him easier, so I’m comfortable. It’s become as natural to him as moving air through his lungs.
“You think about me a lot, don’t you?” I ask.
Benson looks startled by the question. “I…do?”
I huff a laugh. “Do you realize you accommodate me without my having to ask?”
Again, he looks perplexed.
“The first time we watched this, you turned on the subtitles,” I point out.
“You’re very careful now about not covering your mouth when you speak.
You repeat yourself when you know I didn’t catch your words.
You’re careful about that, too. About walking or sitting on my CI side.
The same way you were sitting before you moved so I’d be comfortable if I lie down.
You sign all the time. When we’re far away.
When my CI is off. Even when it’s on and you don’t have to, you sign to me.
You’re more thoughtful, more aware, than most people, Ben. ”
His eyes shift to a spot over my shoulder before coming back to me. “I can’t…not think about you.”
“That,” I say around a puff of air, shaking my head slightly. “Most people have to try really hard to open up space for me. I think you would have to try really hard not to.”
His face pinches, as if the thought of that personally offends him. “I wouldn’t be dating you if I willfully ignored the fact that you’re Deaf.”
“No?”
“You respect yourself too much for that, Remi. And I respect you too much to relegate you to an afterthought.”
My exhale is swift. “Jesus, Benson.”
His lips twitch, one eyebrow popping up in surprise. “You full-named me. I think that’s the first time you’ve called me Benson since I got back.”
“Yeah, well, you’re in trouble. The things I want to do to you right now are not fit for a barn.”
Benson’s breath hitches, his gaze slipping down my face. I’m not exactly surprised when his hand tilts my chin up, but the surety in his touch has my pulse hopping. “I don’t think there’s saddle butter in here.”
I bark a laugh that dissipates the moment Benson’s lips curve to mine. He twists my way, one hand slipping under my thigh before he pulls me cleanly onto his lap.
“Fuck,” I manage, all of my blood pooling south fast. “You’re not supposed to encourage me.”
He kisses me for a long moment, tongue greeting mine with the tiniest flicks, before asking, “Why?”
I puff out my laughter, quickly forgetting what my initial hesitation was when Benson tilts my head further back to lick the base of my throat. His beard prickles my skin, his lips traveling a slow path upwards.
It takes me a second to parse his words through the haziness in my mind. “You’re the only person who calls me Ben.”
“Should I not?”
“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t stop. I like it.”
I lick my lips, more than certain I can feel Benson’s cock below my ass now, fuller than it was a moment ago. “You also like when I call you another name, don’t you?”
Benson’s breath breaks against my neck, the man shuddering.
“Christ, that’s sexy, Ben. What will you do when I actually say the words?”
He leans back, resting his head against the wall, looking lust-drunk already. His hands move the same, slow and loose. ‘Probably whatever you ask of me.’
I groan. “And if I ask you to tell me one thing? Any one thing on your mind that you want right now?” Humming, I add, “So long as it doesn’t require saddle butter.”
He huffs, his chest rising and falling as I skip my fingers down his torso. He hisses when I palm him through his jeans. ‘There’s no…bathroom here.’
It takes me a second to follow his train of thought. “So I’ll be careful not to leave a mess.”
‘Fuck, Remi. Can I…’
His hands halt midair, so I massage his cock where it’s trapped against his thigh. “Tell me. Please.”
He pulls in a breath, hands moving slow. ‘Can I have your mouth again? I didn’t get to see your face last time.’
My smile is wide, a fact Benson doesn’t miss. “Where do you want my mouth, Ben?”
His eyes slip shut, his hand trembling. ‘My cock.’
“Mm.” I snag Benson’s lip between my own before bringing my mouth to his ear. “Good boy.”
His hand flexes on my thigh, a punched-out rumble vibrating from his chest.
“Do you know how much I love that?” I ask him, popping the button on his jeans. “When I can feel you purr for me?”
His mouth forms my name, his eyes half-lidding as I sink between his legs.
“The way you want me is heady as fuck, Ben.”
His hand fists the wood shavings beside his thigh as I tug his jeans far enough down his hips to have access to him. I leave his boxer briefs in place, taking my time as I tease his dick through the slit of the material. The outline of his cock looks obscene beneath the thin fabric.
“Christ,” I mutter before lifting my hands to sign a word I taught Benson only recently. ‘Treasure.’
He chokes on a laugh, head thunking against the wood behind him. A huff follows that I’m fairly sure came from Snickerdoodle, but the pony must settle because I hear nothing else from her stall.
‘Video?’ Benson asks, the movement quick before his hand is braced on the ground again. When he notices my frown, he cants his head up toward the ceiling.
“Ah. No. No video surveillance inside the barns.”
He nods in a rapid jerk.
“You are keyed up,” I observe happily, continuing to toy with him, his skin hot against my fingers. “Your dick is trying real hard to bust out of this fabric.”
Benson scrubs a hand over his face, a tiny smile evident as he tries his best to appear reproachful. His voice joins the fray, motions distracted. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What’s that?” I ask, bending low to run my lips over his clothed cock.
“You’re…removing pressure from me being the sexual recipient by keeping me mentally engaged with other things.”
I bite my lip. “First, I feel like I should clarify one very important point.”
Benson’s gaze slides to my hand when I drag the band of his underwear down. He sucks in a breath as my fingers wrap around him.
“I’m a firm believer that sex should be fun and enjoyable,” I tell him, pumping him slowly.
I lean down to lick up and down one side of his cock before making a similar trip on the other side.
My fist glides smoothly as I spread the spit.
“So as long as you’re enjoying yourself, none of the rest matters.
It could be five minutes before you come.
It could be an hour. Maybe you decide you don’t want to come at all.
There’s no pressure any which way. I’m here because I want to be. Because I enjoy this, too. Okay?”
He nods, a flush on his cheeks as I swirl my tongue around the end of his dick.
“And second… When my boyfriend is amazing enough to tell me outright what does or doesn’t work for him, of course I’m going to pay attention.”
‘Your…boyfriend?’ Benson asks with jerky movements, his expression stunned.
“Aren’t you?” I blow on the end of his dick before licking over him. “We agreed this isn’t casual.”
He swallows roughly, his gaze pinging between my eyes and mouth. “In eight years…I’ll be fifty. You realize that, right?”
I grin up at him. “The age thing again? Can you not be a boyfriend after forty-two?”
Benson groans. “It’s not… It’s just…” He switches back to sign. ‘You called me your boyfriend, Remi. And you…’ He motions to me between his legs. ‘You’re beautiful. And young. It’s not insignificant, our differences.’
I suck Benson’s cock between my lips, relishing the way his chest hitches. How his eyes lock onto my lips. He watches every inch of my fall and rise with rapture on his face. “Ben… In eight years, when you’re eight years older, I’ll be eight years older, too. We’ll age the same.”
“Yeah, but…”
“We’ll change the same,” I reiterate slowly. “If we’re right for each other now, and I think you’ll agree we are—otherwise we wouldn’t be here with your cock out while we wait for the Silkie chicks to hatch…”
He huffs a laugh.
“Then at any point down the road, be it five years or eight or twenty, we’ll still be an equal match. It’s simple math.”
Benson’s chuckle this time is softer, the tension leaving his shoulders. “It’s hard to argue with your logic.”
“Then maybe we should let my mouth do better things, hm?”
He doesn’t quarrel as I sink over him, dropping my lips to meet my fist. He curses as I work him over, stroking the base of his cock as I tongue and suck on the head.
I pop off to mouth the base of his dick, my fingers sliding under the band of his boxer briefs to rub his sac. “Do you know how good you smell?”
“Do I?” he grunts out. “You often smell like hay.”
I look upwards, finding his eyes on me. “Is that a good thing?”
He nods his fist. “It is to me.”