by Riley Knight
Ben only sort of understood. He had known that Isaac would be upset, of course, but he hadn’t really gotten just how much. After all, it was just a normal day around his place growing up to see his mother locked at the lips with some stranger. Isaac’s reaction had been more extreme even than he’d thought it would be, and what else could Ben do but let him work it out his own way?
The truth was, one of the first things Ben had known about Isaac was that he was deeply sheltered. That innocence had drawn Ben, maybe just because he’d never really known such a thing before. The fact that he had been the one to tarnish that, he felt sick to his stomach.
Should he have just not told him? Well, it was far too late now, and he growled as he let his eyes roam over the whole house, which was practically sparkling. He wasn’t actually sure that he could remember the last time he’d lived anywhere this clean.
Wiping up the tomato sauce that Isaac had spilled everywhere had just felt so good while he was doing it. Like he had some control over what was going on. It was an illusion, though, and it faded now as soon as there was no more work to do.
It was late, and he had to call the social worker first thing in the morning. Isaac had the keys. He could come in when he wanted, and Ben wasn’t going to be able to do anything for anyone staying up to wait. So he told himself as he locked the door and went to bed, stripping down and slipping between the cool white sheets.
Would Isaac even come back?
In Ben’s experience, most people didn’t come back. And Ben had always told himself that he liked it better that way, because if no one came back to him, then he didn’t have to come back to anyone, either. So maybe Isaac would …
Groaning, he plugged his phone into the charger beside the bed and turned the volume up high. Isaac had his number now, and if the man called, he wanted to be ready. What else could he do?
As he drifted in a thin, unsatisfying sleep, Ben’s mind wandered, doubt filling him. He shouldn’t have let Isaac go alone. But what was he, Isaac’s jailer? The guy was an adult, and it was time that someone treated him that way.
“Please just come back,” Ben whispered, as he burrowed his face deep into the pillow, so deep he could barely breathe. His body ached for Isaac, for the feel of his beautiful, lithe body against his, and the kiss which Isaac had given him before he stumbled out of the house still burned on his own lips.
* * *
Eventually, he slept. He must have, utterly exhausted, passed out completely, because the next thing he knew there was a weight settling down on the bed beside him, and a chilly body was being pressed right against him, making him shiver and draw it right under the covers with him to warm it up.
“Isaac?” he whispered, only he already knew that it was him. Even with his eyes closed, the feel of that body had become so familiar to him. He felt like he would have known him anywhere, and he gave a soft sigh of pleasure as he let his nose settle in the curve of the place where Isaac’s neck met his shoulder, breathing him in deep.
Isaac had come back. Did he know how much that meant to Ben that he would do that?
A frown settled on Ben’s lips as he breathed in deeply. There was a strange scent which lingered on his skin, clinging to it, something sweet and yeasty and sharp, a scent which Ben, as a bartender, would recognize anywhere.
Beer. And strong, too. Isaac smelled like he had taken a shower in the stuff, and Ben groaned as he was pulled reluctantly from the warm, safe world of sleep, the world where none of this stuff really mattered. His eyes opened, and he saw that Isaac was staring at him, fully naked, from what Ben could tell by the slide of silken skin against his own.
“Kiss me,” Isaac whispered, but he didn’t wait for Ben to do it. He slid in, and his lips were against Ben, crushing against him, almost bruising their lips with the force of that kiss.
Within seconds, Ben could feel that Isaac was hardening against him, he could feel the way Isaac’s hips tilted and the hot glide of his growing erection against Ben’s body.
TWENTY
It was sort of funny that Isaac would end up at the bar. He had only been there once, and he had been to the church many, many times. He still had the keys to let him into the building, too, if he’d wanted to go, but when he gave his feet the freedom to do as they pleased, he found himself walking down the block to the bar where he’d met Ben.
It was late, but the place was still open. Probably not for very much longer, but it was a place to go, and Isaac glanced around the small room as he pushed open the door. It was less crowded, but there were still a few people there.
How shocked he’d been, once upon a time, not so very long ago, when he’d realized that this was a bar for gay men. How stunned he had been that such a thing could exist.
In a way, hadn’t he felt like he’d come home? Like all of a sudden, it all made sense, how he’d never been interested in a woman, at least not romantically? An option which hadn’t even existed before had opened up before him, and now …
… Well, he was with Ben, wasn’t he? Living with him, at least for now. Going on dates. Well, date. Singular. But it was still more than he had ever wanted to do with any woman that he’d ever met.
His parents had, for years now, shoved every eligible, pious young lady into his path. And some of them had been very nice, but he hadn’t wanted to kiss them as he wanted to kiss Ben. He’d never felt any of the fascination with their bodies that he did when he touched Ben, he’d never much cared what they would look like outside of their clothes.
He was such a perfect gentleman, the parents of all of those girls had raved to his parents. It was one of the few things which he’d ever done which had won his father’s approval.
Only his father was apparently not practicing nearly as much discipline as he was preaching. What else was the man lying about? If he would break the solemn vows of his marriage, what other promises would he break?
Slowly, he walked up to the bar, to the same stool that he had perched on that very first night, and he sat down again. The worn, scratched counter looked the same, and when Isaac raised his eyes, he half expected to see amused green eyes staring right into his own.
It had been like Ben could see his very soul.
But when Isaac did raise his gaze, it wasn’t Ben that he saw, and of course it wasn’t. He’d left Ben back at the apartment. This was an older man with delicate features and a slender build, and a hint of world-weariness in his hazel eyes, a sardonic quirk to his lips.
“So? What’s crawled up your ass?” the guy asked bluntly, and Isaac shook his head a little bit. How was he even supposed to start?
“I got some bad news,” Isaac said, which he supposed was true enough, even if it wasn’t completely. “And I’m sort of shaken up, I guess.”
“I don’t know your face,” the man commented, as he selected a glass and started to fill it with some sort of golden liquid from a tap. A thick, sweet smell filled the air, and the bartender set it down in front of Isaac on a coaster. “Who are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m Isaac. I’m fairly new in town,” Isaac explained, looking at the glass with a mild sort of horror mixed with fascination. It was beer, obviously, but Isaac had always been taught that it was better to avoid alcohol mostly. It led to sin, he’d always been taught.
“Isaac? Oh, you’re Ben’s friend. I’m Tom, his boss.” The man offered a delicate hand to shake, but when they did, there was a surprising strength to the grip. This man might be small, even smaller than Isaac was, but he was tough, no doubt about it.
“Nice to …” Isaac started and then two broad, strong hands came down onto his shoulders, and he was spun around, his buttocks sliding over the worn wood of the bar stool until he came face to face with someone that he would have been quite happy never to see again.
“Hank,” Isaac breathed, looking into those dark eyes, smelling more of that rich, beery scent on him. Hank, and Hank even drunker than he had been the first, and only, time that Isaac had seen him.
“Hey, beautiful,” the man slurred, his body inclining closer to Isaac so that he could feel the sick heat coming off of his body. “You’re still too good to dance with me, I bet.”
“Hank!” Tom spoke sharply, but such subtleties were beyond what someone as drunk as Hank was could have any chance of getting. Sharp words weren’t going to make it through that self-induced haze.
“Let go of me,” Isaac tried anyway, but Hank was leaning in toward him, his enormous, muscular body inclining closer, his lips slightly parted and his eyes dazed. At first, Isaac didn’t understand what he was doing, but soon it was unmistakable.
There was no way that he was going to allow this man to kiss him.
Luckily, the guy was drunk, so drunk he could barely walk, and Isaac hadn’t had so much as a single sip of the beer that had been poured for him. He was much smaller than Hank, but it was still pretty easy for him to figure out what to do. Hank was blocking him in front, and the bar was digging sharply into his back from behind, but the sides were a different story.
Isaac darted to the left, and he felt Hank’s hands slip a little on his shoulders. But Hank wasn’t letting go, and he didn’t until Isaac abruptly shifted to the right, instead. Hank’s fingers slid off of him and then, miraculously, he was standing on the floor, and he was a free man.
“You’re nothing but a fucking cocktease,” Hank hissed, and he grabbed Isaac’s untouched drink, and the golden contents of it sloshed over the side. Without warning, he suddenly upended it, and Isaac was soaked in the fluid completely.
“Okay, that’s it, Hank. You’re not allowed in here anymore,” Tom said, and his voice had taken on a very stern tone, one that it seemed like even a drunk man couldn’t help but respond to. “And if this man wants to press charges, I’ll back him up. Now get the hell out of here.”
For a moment, Isaac wasn’t sure that Hank would go. The man had his head lowered, snorting like a bull as he looked back and forth between them. But Tom had pulled out his phone and was holding it very obviously, and when Hank turned to Isaac, Isaac made sure to plant his feet firmly and set his shoulders, not backing away.
He was completely untrained in fighting, but he wasn’t going to back down, and the few other patrons of the bar were all watching. None of them seemed to be on Hank’s side, shooting disapproving looks at him.
“You’re not worth it,” Hank told Isaac, who refused to let himself flinch back. It was true, or at least, some people would say that. His parents, for instance, who had gotten rid of him the moment he had done something that they hadn’t liked.
Isaac thought they, at least, would agree with Hank’s assessment. But he just stared the bigger man down, refusing to back away, because he hadn’t started this and he doubted he could finish it if he had to, but he was not going to run away from this.
With a snort of pure derision, Hank turned and left, weaving from side to side, his broad shoulder clipping the side of the door as he went through it. Only then, when Hank was actually gone, did Isaac collapse onto a stool and try to shake the beer, which was drying into a sticky mess, off with his fingers.
“Here,” Tom said, offering a towel, and Isaac rubbed himself as best he could. “Kid, that took guts, what you just did. Are you okay?”
Isaac shrugged. How was he supposed to answer that? He was pretty much the furthest thing from okay, but he would survive, he figured. So he just politely handed the towel back to Tom, then got up and headed out the door himself.
Because the thing was, it wasn’t just girls that he had never been interested in kissing. Hank was a man, and so was Tom, too, and they were both handsome in their own ways. But it never would have occurred to him to kiss either of them or to do any of the other things that he and Ben had done together, either.
It was Ben, only Ben, always Ben. Ben was the only one he wanted to kiss or do anything with. His feet took him home, and home was Ben.
* * *
His clothes, much laundered at this point because they were the only ones which Isaac had brought with him, were off, and it was a relief to have the sticky fabric off of his body. Naked, Isaac looked down at Ben, who was sleeping on the bed, and he knew that he’d been right.
Ben, asleep, vulnerable, with his eyes closed and his lips open just a little, was the only one he wanted. The only one he’d ever wanted. He watched him sleep, just for a few moments, and then slid into the bed and rolled over to hug the man.
It wasn’t that he wanted to wake him up because he sincerely didn’t, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a little glad when those eyes slid open and he felt the way Ben’s body reacted to him. Ben tugged him into the sanctuary of the warm nest of blankets, and Isaac groaned softly and let himself flow against him, let his body relax against Ben’s.
The kiss was a complicated one, and it seemed to go on forever. It was the only thing that he’d wanted to do ever since leaving the bar, to kiss Ben, and he felt Ben’s lips respond to his, felt the hot movement of his tongue and his breath as their lips clung together.
“I love you,” Isaac admitted when the kiss ended. Was it the time or the place? He didn’t even know, but he did know that he was feeling it, and so strongly that it demanded to be free. Ben looked startled by the revelation because Isaac supposed it was really too soon for it, but he didn’t laugh or look disgusted, so he figured that was something.
“You been drinking?” Ben murmured, and that drawl of his was stronger than ever, thick with sleep as it was. It was adorable, and Isaac stared into that handsome face and felt like he could look at him forever quite happily.
“No,” Isaac said honestly. “I went to the bar, and Hank poured beer on me because I wouldn’t dance with him.”
All of a sudden, all of the sleep was gone from Ben’s eyes, fled in the face of the flickering flames of anger. His lips tensed and his jaw flexed, his eyes narrowing as he looked much more intently at Isaac.
“He did what?” Ben growled out the words, and Isaac watched in fascination. His parents had always protected him, but had they ever been that furious on his behalf? He couldn’t remember it ever happening. “That bastard. He’s never getting in that bar again, not while I’m there.”
Isaac nodded slowly, fascinated and scared and a little turned on by the anger he saw in his face. Ben had so much passion, so much emotion, and the fact that he hid it a lot of the time only made it that much stronger and more intense when it did come out.
“That’s what Tom said. Hank was angry.”
“Good,” Ben spat the words. “And he’d better hope he doesn’t see me around because I might just punch him in the face. Not sure I could help myself.”
Isaac shook his head. He really hoped Hank did stay out of the way. He didn’t want anyone being punched in the face, but more than that, he didn’t want Ben to put himself into any danger.
“Ben, kiss me again,” Isaac almost begged. “I need you.”
It was true, truer than any words that Isaac had ever said before in his life. Ben stared at him, scanning his face, and the anger was still there, but it was fading away a little bit.
“Isaac. You gotta be careful, babe, when you say stuff like that,” Ben finally spoke. “A guy could think …”
Isaac shook his head, raising a finger to press it against the soft, silky skin of his lips, silencing him.
“I know what I’m saying,” he spoke quietly, so softly that even Ben, right there on the bed, had to lean in to hear the whisper. “And I know what I want.”
Isaac had been holding back, in a way, and Ben had been letting him do it. There was one line which they had never crossed, which Isaac had been too scared to cross because he knew once he did, he wouldn’t be able to go back. And what if he gave himself to Ben, and Ben left him?
That didn’t matter, not anymore. Let Ben leave him tomorrow, Isaac would still want Ben to be his first. There was no doubt, not a single one, anywhere in his mind, and Isaac pulled Ben close to him, pressing their bodies together, letting
the full length of his aroused cock press against Ben.
“Isaac,” Ben moaned into the kiss, and then his warm, strong, slightly rough hand was slipping down over Isaac’s slender body, tracing over it, then darting down to wrap around his aching erection. Isaac shuddered, and the heat in his body suddenly ratcheted up a few degrees, so it felt.
“You’ll have to show me,” he whispered, but he trusted Ben to do that. They kissed again, and this time, Ben’s full lips parted, and his tongue slipped into Isaac’s mouth, seeking out his own, tangling and dancing more intimately as they opened themselves up to each other.
“I know,” Ben murmured. He fumbled in the table beside the bed for a moment, then pulled out a bottle and a little crinkly foil-wrapped package. “Here. Put this on.”
Isaac took it, but he shook his head. Put it on? How? Where? Ben saw his confusion and came to his rescue one more time as he tore the package open and took out a condom. Once, Isaac had been in public school, and before his parents had known it would happen and had pulled him out of the class, he’d seen a demonstration of how one of these worked.
Ben made it a lot more sexy than that long ago teacher had, unrolling the sheath over the full length of Isaac’s cock, his talented fingers stroking over the aroused skin as he did. It felt strange once it was on, a little bit tight and slightly uncomfortable, but then he was being kissed again and pushed onto his back, and Ben was straddling his hips, and all of a sudden that discomfort didn’t matter anymore.
“You sure?” Ben asked as he squirted cool, slippery lube liberally over Isaac’s cock. It was not a rhetorical question. If he asked him to, Isaac knew, even now, that Ben would stop, that there was no pressure to do this.
Instead, Isaac reached out and gripped Ben’s hips. He had to admit, when he’d thought about doing this, he had sort of assumed it would be Ben going inside of him, but this way felt better, somehow. It seemed to fit more, for him to be lying on his back with Ben about to slip down onto him.
