Chapter 31 #2
“Lube’s in the drawer,” I pant.
He reaches that way, never parting from our kiss. He finds the bottle blindly, pulling back only long enough to glance at it. He frowns in a pointed manner, raising an eyebrow.
“No, it’s not actually saddle butter,” I say around a laugh. “We’re not in a barn. We’re civilized men who—”
Benson’s mouth is on mine again, and I’m floating away.
He kisses a path down my throat, dipping his tongue into the hollow before moving lower.
When he bends further down, I get a flash of his ass cheeks framed by chaps, and it’s nearly my undoing.
His lips whisper over my skin before teeth nip along my inner thigh.
He methodically and carefully bites the tendon there, right where I’m most sensitive.
“You’re so very good at that.”
He lifts an eyebrow.
“Touching me. I wasn’t lying before. You know exactly how to make me feel good.”
‘Remember my promise?’ he asks before dipping to run his tongue up my cock.
“Yeah,” I breathe out, spearing fingers into his hair. He gets the hint, staying put for a minute and sucking my cock into his mouth. “You said…just wait until you fuck me. I believe it, Ben. I have no doubt you’re about to turn my world inside out.”
He pops off my cock, his hand drawing my leg up and out as he kisses my balls. ‘Do I start with one finger? Is that okay? Or…’ He trails off, hands suspended.
“Yeah. There’s no magic open button. One finger is perfectly fine unless I’m bone-dry down there.”
He appears to snort, air puffing over my hip before his lips are pressing there. He leans back to open the lube, the focus in his eyes bringing a smile to my face.
“You know those nerve endings I was talking about?”
Benson nods, flipping the lube cap open and wetting his fingers. He sets the bottle beside his knee before his eyes drop to my ass. I expect cold, but Benson slides his other hand down between my ass cheeks, brushing feather-light as he warms the lube with his thumb.
“The good thing about them,” I go on, my breath slowly leaving my lungs as a wet finger presses gently inside of me, “is that they branch really, really far.”
Benson’s eyes are on my face now as he fucks me slowly with his finger.
“Which means every time you sink deep, your cock will be running along all those nerves that lead right back to my prostate. So if you find the angle to light them up, which I know you will, you’ll have me out of my mind while you fuck me into this mattress.”
Benson drops his forehead to my knee, one finger still inside me as he asks, ‘Two?’
“Yeah, Ben. Give me another.”
He slips his finger out, and then there’s two, stretching me gently. He goes slow, reading my body easily despite his worry about never having done this before.
“That’s good,” I assure him, giving my cock a stroke as I roll my hips. “Fuck. Curl your fingers? Like you’re reaching for my balls? Little farther. Right…” My words peter out with my breath. “Good. Yep. Fuck.”
Benson says something, his lips brushing my skin as he adds a third finger. I don’t catch the words, but I don’t think I’m meant to. His focus is on my ass again, the look in his eye a pained sort of wonder.
I understand that desperation perfectly. “Ben.”
His gaze flicks up to me.
“Would you get inside me already?”
He sweeps a hand down his chest. ‘I am.’
My laughter has me tightening around Benson’s fingers. His groan rumbles against me as he drops his cheek to my hip. “You know exactly what I mean. I’m dying here. And so are you. Put us out of our misery?”
Benson straightens, his fingers leaving me slowly. He looks down, seemingly only now realizing we’re on the comforter and not the sheets. He blanches, shooting me an apologetic look.
“It’s fine. I’ll wash the lube off later.”
He shakes his head in a self-recriminating manner. Rolling me swiftly to the side, he fusses with the comforter, getting it pushed out of the way before rolling me back.
I huff lightly. “Ben, love, I’m not concerned about an extra load of laundry. I’m much more concerned with your load. Which I’d very much like inside of me soon.”
He freezes, and I assume it’s because of the somewhat crude joke. But then I run my words back through my head.
Benson crawls over me, the leather of his chaps brushing the insides of my thighs. ‘Again?’ he signs.
I let out a slow breath, closed fists crossing near my heart.
Benson lifts the top fist, pressing a kiss to it before doing the same to the second.
He blankets me, another kiss pressed to my cheek, his hair tickling my skin.
His mouth moves, and I wonder if he’s repeating the sentiment I signed. Love.
I run my hands down his back and hook my fingers under the waistband of the chaps. “Fuck me, Ben?”
He kisses my cheek again, leaning back enough to catch my eye.
Grabbing the lube, he squeezes some onto his hand, pausing.
We already talked about whether or not we’d use condoms. Seeing as we’re exclusive, I told him I’d be fine going without.
He’s less sure how he’ll feel about cum in his ass, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.
“Your choice,” I tell him.
He nods, slicking up his cock before wiping his hand on the sheet.
Notching against me, he meets my eye again.
I pull my knee a little higher, the pressure in my chest immense.
Benson presses against me, and I have to drop my head back.
It feels…intense. Not because it’s been well over two years since I last bottomed, but because this is Benson. And I know this isn’t insignificant.
Not for him.
Not for me.
I suck in a shaky breath as fingers trail over my cheek.
Benson waits until I’m looking at him, waits until he’s sure I’m okay, before pressing further.
The feel of him opening me up is unlike any other pleasure.
It’s an intimate act, letting someone into your body. And it’s not something everyone enjoys.
I always have, but this is more than that.
More than pleasure. It’s coming face-to-face with what I’m starting to suspect my future looks like.
It’s seeing the man I know I’m gone for watching me like he’s never witnessed something more perfect.
It’s the space beneath my ribs overflowing with so much life and bursting color I can practically see the hues swirling through the air.
It’s Benson’s lips finding mine as he comes to a stop, his hips resting against my ass, his hand shaking where he’s clutching my cheek.
“Love,” I say again, a name, a feeling, a whisper against his lips. “Love, love, love.”
Benson’s answer is in the palm he grazes down to my chest. In the eyes holding mine. In the word I can see so clearly formed on his lips.
Home.