by Elia Winters
Mitchell was still looking at him as though dying for more information, more details. So he gave them. “But that isn’t all of it. I didn’t want to risk what we had. I thought if we call it friendship, if we call ourselves fuck buddies, we’re safe. But I can’t deny anymore that I love you. I don’t want to deny it. And if it’s a risk, it’s a big fucking risk. But I want to take that risk.” Ben took a deep, shuddering breath and released it. “I’m not asking you to be monogamous with me. I’m not asking you to pick only me above everyone. I just thought…maybe you and me could be more official with this.”
Mitchell’s hands were trembling. Mitchell, who had the steadiest hands, who could mince onions to perfection and shave cloves of garlic into slices as thin as paper and transparent as glass…Mitchell was shaking with his hands pressed onto his knees. He didn’t tear up, because that wasn’t Mitchell’s style, but the emotion welled anyway.
“I’ve wanted this for a long time, but it’s fucking scary.” Mitchell shook his head, kept shaking it as he looked down at his hands, still trembling with all that built-up emotion. “I don’t know. I mean. I do. I know.” He looked up again, and his eyes were bright, wide, filled with longing and panic, all the mixed emotions that he usually held back flashing through his expression like a kaleidoscope. “Yeah. Completely. I love you. I’ve loved you for years.”
Ben didn’t wait. He scooted over the small distance between them and kissed Mitchell on the lips, grabbing his shoulders, holding him in place until Mitchell shifted and welcomed him in with an embrace. It was awkward, their bodies partially reclined on the couch, Ben half kneeling and half sitting, but fuck all of that. Mitchell’s mouth was hot and wet, his entire body vibrating.
“Okay. Okay.” Mitchell put a hand on Ben’s chest, and Ben shifted so he was sitting more evenly next to Mitchell, not quite on top of him but so close he could breathe the same air. “What about the business?”
“The business stays the same. We’re the same. We stay partners, we stay friends. Plus love. Plus whatever crazy shit this is.” Ben laughed.
Mitchell started laughing as well. “I don’t even know what this changes with us. I’ve loved you for years. I didn’t want to admit it. But I don’t know if we’re going to be any different? Together? Anything?”
“I’ll probably hold your hand in public sometimes.” Ben smiled. “And kiss you on the mouth.”
“Oh god, public physical affection? No.” Mitchell held up a hand. “Please, no.”
“Listen.” Ben took both his hands. This felt good and right, holding Mitchell’s hands, showing his love, admitting all of this, but it wasn’t complete. “I love you. But I don’t think I’m monogamous. I might fall in love with someone else someday. It doesn’t mean I’m going to stop loving you.”
Mitchell looked into his eyes. “We might both already be in love with someone else.”
The silence hung between them. It was the first time either of them had said it out loud, this possible truth, the other truth Ben wasn’t willing to admit. “That isn’t possible right now.”
Mitchell nodded. “I know.”
“Can you be with me even if I’m not monogamous?” Ben paused. “This feels like the least romantic thing ever. And I hate romance.”
Mitchell smiled, but it was a smile with teeth, not just the tight-lipped smile he usually did. “Yeah. I was thinking about that tonight at the workshop. I just want to feel like you’re going to choose me. Not always me, and not always just me, but when you’re with me, it’s because you want me and not somebody else you can’t have.”
Ben nodded. The workshop already felt like so long ago. It was hard to believe it was the same night.
“Hey.” Mitchell squeezed Ben’s hands. “This is pretty fucking gay.”
“Still bi.” Ben tilted his head. “You got it?”
“I’ve got it. Still bi. Both of us.” Mitchell glanced toward the kitchen. “I’ve got a chili to finish. But then…” His voice trailed off, and he turned his attention toward the bedroom.
Ben smiled. “I’ll wait up.”
…
Having Ben kissing him like his life depended on it was a new experience. Ben kissed with intensity, passion, love. Mitchell could finally name it for what it was. He had been in love with Ben for years, and even if it wasn’t exclusive, even if they were already in love with someone else and just weren’t ready to say it out loud, this was beautiful and overwhelming and he wanted all of it.
Ben pushed him down on the bed with ease. Mitchell usually gave the direction and took the lead in these moments, some light domination that made Ben hard as a rock, and he wanted that now as well. But he also wanted something else.
He was strong enough to easily roll Ben off him onto his side, and Ben didn’t fight, going willingly and looking over at Mitchell with adoration in his eyes. Mitchell threaded his fingers into Ben’s hair, which was just long enough for him to do this, and closed his fist, pulling all of Ben’s hair and forcing his head still. Ben’s eyes fell half closed and he moaned, this deep rumbling groan that went straight to Mitchell’s dick. Mitchell smiled. “You want me to tell you what to do?”
Ben tried to nod, found he couldn’t, and smiled. “Oh yeah, I do. You know I love this shit.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
Ben’s eyes widened. “You sure?” They had never done this, for a number of reasons. But damn, Mitchell wanted that cock pressing into him, wanted to feel himself getting stretched open, watch the shaking of Ben’s muscles and listen to his whimpers as he tried to hold back. He wanted all of it.
“Definitely.” Mitchell smiled. “Now. Take your clothes off.”
Mitchell lounged on the bed while Ben undressed, watching the slow reveal, his own clothes already on the floor. Hannah flashed into his mind, a momentary vision of her here beside him, and he got choked up for a second. No, he had to put her aside. This wasn’t going to be perfect. This wasn’t about her. This was about him, and Ben, and what they had together that couldn’t be minimized or duplicated. This was something special all on its own.
While watching Ben strip the last of his clothes off, Mitchell idly stroked his dick. Damn, he loved this man. He rolled the thought through his mind, trying it out, and it fit well.
“Turn around,” he ordered. “Let’s see that ass.” Ben obeyed. These dominance games got both of them hard in no time at all. Ben was so large and powerful, and watching him submit made Mitchell’s cock throb.
“You have lube?” Mitchell looked over at the nightstand.
“Obviously.” Ben opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. “Tell me what you want.”
Mitchell’s heart raced at the thought of it. Excitement overwhelmed any nervousness. “Get me ready.”
Ben stretched out on the bed and took Mitchell’s cock into his hot mouth. Mitchell’s hips bucked up, and Ben held him in place, sucking and licking him, driving Mitchell straight from zero to “oh my god” in no time flat. Fuck, this wasn’t good. Well, this was actually amazing, but it was also going to get him off too quickly, and he didn’t want to come this way. Before he could protest, though, Ben spread his legs and lube-slick fingers pressed against him. Oh Jesus, one finger slipped inside with no resistance at all, and his cock twitched hard in Ben’s mouth.
Mitchell closed his eyes and threw an arm over his forehead, momentarily overwhelmed by the dual sensations. He’d had sex with other guys before; usually, the stretch was uncomfortable, but Ben’s mouth on his cock was so fucking good, it made everything feel incredible. Then there was more, a deeper stretch from a second finger. That fullness was incredible, his cock leaking against Ben’s tongue while his ass clenched around Ben’s fingers. Suddenly, a shock of white-hot pleasure jolted him. Fuck, that was his prostate.
Ben lifted his head to watch, smiling, fingers still working deep. Mitchell’s cock pulsed against his stomach. Ben added more lube, then another finger, maybe a bit too soon, and Mitchell couldn’t catch
his breath. Jesus, every single press against his prostate lit him up from the inside. This was fucking incredible. It had been a long time and he wanted more, now.
Ben slowly slid his fingers out of Mitchell’s ass, which felt loose and empty in the absence of contact. Mitchell lifted his head, which felt way too heavy.
“Don’t stop,” he said, and it didn’t sound as much like an order as he wanted it to.
“I want to stretch you out more,” Ben said. “Nightstand?”
Hell yes. Mitchell rolled to the side and reached into the nightstand, finding, yes, a blue silicone dildo. Although it couldn’t compare to Ben’s dick, it was wider and thicker than fingers, and it was going to feel so good inside him.
“Do you fuck yourself with this?” Mitchell asked.
“I do.” Ben locked eyes with him. “Sometimes I pretend it’s your cock.”
God. Mitchell couldn’t stop his own groan, the image flashing into his mind of Ben on his back, fucking himself with that fake cock. Ben plucked it out of his hand and reached again for the lube. Mitchell felt the pressure, the initial momentary discomfort, and then flash of hard pleasure as the head slipped inside. Damn, it hadn’t seemed that big, but he hadn’t done this in a while. Ben waited and, when Mitchell nodded, started to push it in.
He couldn’t help the low, guttural noise that slipped out of him as Ben pushed the dick right up to the flared base. Mitchell strained to keep his eyes open to watch Ben’s concentration, watch the way Ben’s own dick hung heavy and hard and neglected, untouched. He managed to pull together some presence of mind.
“That feels good,” he said. “It’s gonna feel so good when it’s you.”
Ben was breathing as heavily as if he was the one getting touched. His arousal was so fucking hot, the sexiness of having him get off on this, too.
“Stroke yourself,” Mitchell told him. “Nice and slow. Fuck me at the same pace.”
Ben pulled the dick back out, slowly, gripping his cock with his free hand. He slid his lubed hand up over his shaft as he slid the dildo out, then dragged his hand back down as he pressed it back inside. In and out, steady, slow, achingly slow, opening Mitchell up for what was to come. Ben’s dick was amazing, Ben was amazing, this entire situation was so fucking hot. Mitchell couldn’t touch his cock or he was going to come in no time flat.
He let this continue for a few minutes, this steady stroking and the gentle fucking, watching as Ben’s breath got more ragged and his cock darkened, the head nearly purple. Mitchell didn’t want to wait anymore.
“That’s enough. I want you.”
Ben slowly slid the fake cock out and grabbed for a condom. Mitchell rolled over onto his stomach. As much as he’d love to watch Ben’s face, this would be an easier position for him to take that massive shaft.
“How much do you want this?” He looked back over his shoulder at Ben, who was lined up to fuck him, his face filled with lust and concentration in equal measures.
“So fucking much.” Ben exhaled. “You have no idea.”
“Good.” Mitchell smiled. “Do it.”
The first press of hot cock against his ass, and holy hell, he had to grip the sheets to keep from driving his hips backward on instinct. Ben had always seemed too big, and Mitchell had never felt ready to feel vulnerable to him like this. This was a different kind of intimacy. He wasn’t the kind of guy to let his guard down in a situation like this. He was the kind of guy who liked to dominate.
Dominating, though, didn’t mean he had to top.
“Nice and slow.”
He hung his head, resting there on his hands and knees against the blunt press of Ben’s cock. The pressure felt overwhelming, like it was never going to fit, a moment’s sharp stab of sensation, and then the blissful stretched-out feeling of the head of Ben’s cock inside him.
“Jesus Christ,” Mitchell breathed. There was nothing like this in the world. He might explode just from these first inches.
“You all right?” Ben’s voice sounded strained, and Mitchell’s ass probably felt tight as hell around Ben’s sensitive cock.
“More.” Mitchell tried not to wriggle or move. Ben slowly shuffled forward, pressing into him, and every inch was lubed and slow and steady and thick and absolutely gorgeous. He tried not to whimper as that swollen cock head rubbed over his prostate, but when Ben went balls-deep, pressed as far in as he could go, Mitchell made a punched-out noise like some kind of injured animal.
“Fuck.” He could barely think; the cock was pushing his brain cells out. “Fuck. I just… Oh. Ohh.”
Mitchell wanted to keep up the dominant dirty talk, but he needed to get his act together. He took a few deep breaths. “Feel good?”
“So good.” Hearing Ben’s voice like that, totally wrecked and tense, was a boon. This kind of control turned him on almost as much as the act.
He looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with Ben, who had his hands on Mitchell’s hips and was nearly trembling with pleasure. “Fuck me slow.”
Ben’s eyes rolled back, and his mouth fell open. He loved it when Mitchell talked dirty, and Mitchell could talk dirty, at least right now, before the inevitable pleasure overtook him. “Fuck me with that cock. Gonna…” He had to pause as Ben drew back, rubbing over his prostate again, and couldn’t help gasping when Ben pushed back in. “Fuck. Yeah. Gonna make you fuck me till I come. Think you can wait?”
“I’ll try.” Mitchell could hear the smile in Ben’s voice, and he loved that smile.
Ben thrust into him, fucking him steadily, as nicely as he could ask for. That thick slide of a hard dick inside him, the deep-seated pleasure—this was just what he was hoping for, just what he had wanted. Even though he couldn’t see it, he could picture it, and that was nearly good enough.
Nearly. But not enough.
Mitchell pulled himself off Ben’s dick, ignoring Ben’s sudden cry of surprise and his own stretched-out feeling, and rolled over onto his back. “Fuck me like this. I want to watch you.”
Ben smiled, taking one of Mitchell’s legs up onto his shoulder as he moved forward to align himself.
Thank god for yoga. As Ben’s hard dick slid into him, Ben simultaneously stretched his leg back, opening him up. Jesus, every inch felt twice as big like this, and Mitchell gasped in lungfuls of air as Ben pushed all the way inside. He was split apart in the best possible way.
He loved this man. He was in love with this man.
The sudden upswell of emotion closed around his heart and stopped his breath. Ben must have noticed it happen and paused halfway through a thrust. “What? What is it?”
“I’m in love with you.” Mitchell tried out the words again.
Ben smiled. “Yeah, you are.” And thrust all the way home.
With just a few firm strokes of Ben’s hand on his cock, Mitchell was lost. Pleasure spiraled inside him, winding tighter and tighter, stealing his breath as he climbed to that precipice. His orgasm came hard, white-hot, blinding, a panoply of color and sound and light and pleasure. He gripped the sheets, the hard length moving inside him, extending his climax. He cried out, wordless at first, and then Ben’s name, opening bleary eyes to watch Ben’s tense face as he held back his own climax.
“Come,” Mitchell begged. “Please. I want to feel it.”
Ben gripped Mitchell’s hips, every fingertip a sharp indentation, and threw his head back in orgasm. He came undone like a hurricane, a force of nature, and Mitchell’s heart swelled in his chest at the privilege of watching.
After the basic cleanup, they both flopped on the mattress, breathing in the silence. Ben turned to Mitchell. “You know, my bed is big enough for both of us.”
Maybe that wasn’t such a big step, but Mitchell’s heart warmed at the invitation. “Gonna give me a break from my spartan room?”
“I figured you could use it.” Grinning, Ben reached over to tousle Mitchell’s hair. That teasing gesture shifted, and Ben cupped Mitchell’s cheek, rubbing a rough thumb over his cheekbone. His
expression grew tender. “I want you to know. There isn’t anyone new for me right now. I’m not looking for someone else. I have you. And…” He trailed off.
He didn’t have to finish. “And Hannah.”
“We don’t have Hannah.”
“But we want her.” Mitchell lay next to Ben, the two of them curling together like parentheses. “We both do. Right?”
Ben nodded. “Yeah. But I don’t know if we’re going to have her, ever. She needs to figure out if she can trust us or not.” Ben’s hand idly traced Mitchell’s back, soothing and sweet. “You know, I want you no matter what happens with Hannah.”
“I know. I feel the same.” He paused. “But I miss her.”
Ben smiled. “Yeah. I miss her, too.”
Chapter Fifteen
Making a clean break was pretty damn hard when you left your wallet at someone’s house. Mitchell stood on Hannah’s doorstep, waiting for her to answer the bell. Her comments this morning on the group chat had been cordial, and she’d found his wallet on the floor below where his coat had been, but it didn’t mean he wanted to be here so soon after leaving her house.
Hannah opened the door and gave him a neutral smile, waving his wallet. “Here you go.” She paused, maybe considering whether to just shut the door in his face. “You want to come in for a bit? I just made some coffee.”
“Sure, maybe just for a minute.” He didn’t want to stay long, but seeing her in the doorway like this, he had really missed her.
Daylight made everything seem harsh, the events from the night before too fresh for him to deal with. He followed her to the kitchen, where she was already pouring him a cup.
“Thanks.” He stirred creamer into his coffee, then looked over at the kitchen table, which was strewn with papers. “Mind if I sit here?”
She was already headed out of the kitchen. “Sure. I left my phone upstairs. Let me grab it.”
These papers looked important. Mitchell started stacking them up to move them aside so he didn’t accidentally spill coffee on them or something. There was Hannah’s nice handwriting again. Ben’s was chicken scratch, and his was utilitarian print, but Hannah wrote in scrolling loops and swirls. Even her numbers were beautiful. He absentmindedly perused a sheet out on top, looking at the patterns and figures. Oh, wait. This was a budget sheet for next year, with months sketched out along the side. The pluses and minuses, the labeled amounts—rent, loan payment, vendor bills with a bunch of companies listed—these were her expenses, and then her income, a much smaller amount. He took it all in within a moment, not even needing to read much more closely, and quickly put the paper aside and stacked a few other documents on top of it. He shouldn’t look at that. He shouldn’t have seen it at all. He should forget what it was, the way her bills were so much greater than her income, the numbers carefully inked in red with a terrifying figure. Maybe he had flopped his numbers again. He took another look at the sheet, reading it carefully, making sure he wasn’t switching figures. Unfortunately, no, he had been correct. He put the document back under the others.
