by Bolden, Beth
Diego decided that he was going outside anyway, and leaned against the side of the building, tipping back his head and letting the bright afternoon sun wash over him.
When he heard footsteps approaching, he didn’t move, because he already knew who it was.
“Hey,” Benji said softly. “Needed a break?”
“You have no idea,” Diego said wryly. “I forgot what it was like—all those personalities in one room, sometimes fighting each other, sometimes fighting for each other.”
“You did good though, earlier,” Benji said, taking the spot next to him on the wall, their knees brushing together. Maybe someday it wouldn’t send a jolt of electricity sparking through him, but today, he still felt it, like a jolt right up his spine.
“I got why Leo wanted Caleb to lead. He used to lead all the time. And this song could very well end up being personal for him. But it wasn’t the best choice. If I’m going to go through the pain and suffering of having a co-producer credit on this album, then I want to have my share of say.”
“It was the right call,” Benji said reassuringly. “I’m just proud that you said it. You don’t often get involved in those decisions, even though you’ve got one of the best ears in the room.”
Diego glanced over, and Benji was grinning at him. “You really think so? You’re not just saying that because you’re, as Leo would say, balls deep?”
“Fuck no,” Benji said. “Like I’d lie to you about something as important as that.”
Diego hadn’t thought he would, but it was still nice to hear the complete denial in Benji’s voice. He wouldn’t, not ever, not about something as important as music. And nothing had ever been as important to Benji as music. It was why Diego still believed he had a chance to change his mind about “Violet.”
Now wasn’t the right time, but Diego was watching and waiting for it, and he had no intention of letting it pass him by.
“Maybe I’ll even bring in a song,” Diego said offhandedly. He meant “Violet,” of course, even though that really wasn’t a song he’d written—merely re-arranged. But Benji lit up like the Fourth of July.
“You should, I would love, love to hear what you’ve written,” Benji said, and it was hard to face the worshipful look in his eye and know Diego was sort of, kind of, lying to him. Yeah, he did have songs he could bring in to the studio that were in fact one hundred percent his, but they weren’t nearly as good as the “Violet” rearrangement. That was something special, if he could only convince Benji of that fact.
“Maybe,” Diego said noncommittally. Now he was going to have to actually dig something out of his pile of half-finished crap and bring it in. Why had he even opened his mouth and said anything?
“Violet,” that’s why.
“And I know,” Diego continued, because if he didn’t change the subject, he might be tempted into bringing “Violet” up again, and he knew it wasn’t the right time, “you have tons of songs that you didn’t ever mean to record for your solo album. Tons of rejects. There might be something there that we can use, as a group, that didn’t work for you alone.”
“You wanna come over and help me find something?” Benji said, leaning a little closer, close enough now for their shoulders to touch. “We’ll probably be wrapped up in a few hours.”
Diego squinted in the late afternoon sunlight. “Do you really think we’d spend any time picking out a song?”
“No?” Benji grinned sheepishly. “But you should come over anyway.”
“Okay,” Diego said, hoping the casual tone he’d adopted hid the tremor in his voice. It was still so new and revelatory that they could actually do all the things he’d spent years imagining.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Their studio session broke up, just as Benji predicted, a few hours later.
“I’m tired,” Leo had said crossly, half-collapsed against the sofa and half-collapsed against Caleb. “I can’t play another note or fix another line. I need a burger and a bed.”
They’d all agreed to meet tomorrow at noon, and had gone their separate ways—at least it had seemed that way. Diego, who hadn’t been surprised by the reaction of their bandmates and hadn’t exactly disliked it either, still took an alternate route to Benji’s house instead of just following behind him. He wasn’t ashamed, exactly, and he wasn’t trying to keep their relationship a secret, but he also didn’t want it to become a big deal. Leo and Caleb were always the big deal—they’d been that way from the beginning and nothing much had changed, even with a five-year separation.
Diego wasn’t the kind of guy who wanted to shove his relationship into everyone’s face, either accidentally or on purpose. And even though they hadn’t necessarily discussed it, Benji didn’t seem to want to either.
The whole balls deep comment had been uncomfortable enough, even if it had been a tiny bit amusing. Still, just the thought was enough to make Diego squirm in the seat as he drove to Benji’s.
And not entirely because he was embarrassed. He wouldn’t have minded if their teasing was a little more in line with reality.
Because even though they’d fooled around plenty two nights ago, they hadn’t done that, and at the time it hadn’t been a big deal. They were just figuring stuff out, neither of them had very much experience—and in Diego’s case, basically none, but now? Now, Diego wanted.
With that in mind, he made one additional stop on his way to Benji’s house. When he finally pulled in the drive, Benji was sitting on the front stoop, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingertips.
“You took the long way,” Benji said as Diego got out of the car. “Or did you get lost?”
Diego’s hands and his voice weren’t quite steady as he approached Benji, but he reminded himself that being clear and upfront was always easier. In their case, it would have saved years and probably two failed marriages. “I thought it was rude to come to someone’s house empty-handed,” he said.
Benji hadn’t caught on though, and still looked calmly amused. “What did you bring me, then?” he asked.
Pulling the box out of his pocket, Diego tossed it toward Benji, who caught it mid-air after setting his beer down. “Oh. Oh.” Benji seemed speechless, and Diego wondered if maybe they should have talked about this first, before he went and bought condoms.
His fingers clenched around the cardboard, crumpling it a bit. “I’m . . . I guess I didn’t expect you to stop for condoms.” Benji paused. “I had some delivered last week.”
Diego raised an eyebrow. “Last week? Awfully presumptuous of you, don’t you think,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood. Benji had swung between surprise and awkwardness since the condom reveal, and Diego was having trouble getting a read on whether the surprise was good or not good.
“I . . . I didn’t want to presume, actually,” Benji said. “I thought it was better to be prepared for anything. When it came to you, that is.” He blushed, and Diego smiled. Good surprise, then.
“So you’re not upset that I got these then,” Diego said, tapping the box, and then reaching down to steal Benji’s beer, taking a swig and then another one.
“Upset? Yeah, definitely not. We can do whatever you want, I’m . . .” Benji blushed again, even redder this time. “I don’t have a lot of experience, but I’ve done lots of research.”
“Research?” While porn wasn’t on the list of things that personally turned Diego on, the idea of Benji watching it, all in the name of figuring out what to do with him? That was hot as hell.
“Not just porn, though there was some porn in there, too,” Benji admitted. “But I meant it. We can do whatever you want. I’m open for anything.”
Diego reached out a hand and helped Benji up from the stoop, finishing the beer in one big gulp. “Then we should go inside, because there’s lots of things that I want, and we can’t do any of them out here without probably getting arrested.”
It was Benji’s house, but Diego had been in it dozens and dozens of times. Had crashed on the couch, on the floor,
and even occasionally in one of the luxuriously appointed guest suites on the second floor. But Benji’s master bedroom was on the main floor, just off the front hallway, and took up almost half of the house. It was easy enough to take Benji inside, and then instead of even pretending he was there for anything else, guide them toward the bedroom versus the kitchen or the veranda or the living room. If they spent even five minutes acting like Diego was there to look at music, then he might lose his nerve, and he really didn’t want to. What he wanted was to use the condoms, Diego thought as the idea swelled, making his stomach even shakier than it had been even a minute prior.
“You’re on a mission,” Benji said as they rounded the corner to the bedroom and Diego walked right over to the bed, setting the empty beer bottle on the glass-topped nightstand.
“I want you,” Diego murmured, and using the hand he already held, pulled Benji closer. “I’ve wanted you for years and years and years.” He figured that was a better version than, “I’ve had a dildo that’s basically had your name on it for the last few years.”
Benji’s eyes were wide and dark as they stared into Diego’s. “Some of that research?” he said softly, his hands reaching up to smooth Diego’s hair back. “Some of that research happened long before this summer. Long before I could’ve ever hoped this would happen.”
Diego thought of all the years he’d spent using Benji as his main masturbation material. Should he confess that now? Should he ever confess that at all? He was afraid Benji would think it was weird, but then this was also Benji, and he was the person Diego trusted most. He’d told Leo; the only difference with telling Benji was it was also about Benji.
“My research was a little more hands on,” Diego said, and watched as Benji’s eyes went wide. Only then did he realize that was not only the wrong thing to say, it wasn’t even close to accurate. “My hands,” Diego corrected quickly. “I . . . porn really isn’t my type of thing. So I did do a little research for safety’s sake, and then . . . practiced on myself.”
Somehow, Benji’s eyes grew even wider, but Diego forged ahead anyway. “I might have used you for spank bank material for a long time, too,” he admitted. “It was easier to fantasize about you than it was to do anything else.”
“About me?” Benji squeaked. Diego barely held back his eyeroll. All that and fantasizing about him was what Benji had gotten out of it?
Maybe talking was overrated. Maybe sharing was overrated. Maybe what they needed was a little less verbal, and a little more physical. So Diego reached up and wrapped his arms around Benji’s neck, and right before he kissed him said, “It’s always been about you.”
The bed was right there, so the kiss remained vertical for only a brief moment. Then Diego was on the bed and Benji was right there, shoving his shoes off and climbing right over Diego, mouth slanting over his with just as much passionate determination as Diego remembered from the other night.
They kissed for long, hot minutes, briefly breaking apart to do imperative, important actions like pull Benji’s t-shirt off so Diego could sink his fingertips into the lean, hard muscle of his shoulders.
Then, suddenly, Benji pulled back and sat on his haunches. Diego barely resisted whining and reaching for him insistently. Why had he gone so far away?
“Let me make sure we understand each other, so there’s no confusion, no misunderstandings,” Benji said, his voice low and desperate. “You want me to use those condoms and you want me to fuck you.”
Slowly, Diego nodded. If Benji was in search of complete clarity and communication, he was afraid of what question might be next.
“And,” Benji continued, “have you ever done this before?”
Diego squirmed. There was something so incredibly lovable and trustworthy about a person who wanted to make sure that he had your complete consent and that he never misunderstood what you wanted, but Benji’s insistence also demanded transparency.
“I’ve not . . . not with another person. Not . . .” Diego took a deep, unsteady breath. “I’ve only ever had sex with one person.” He might have been able to leave the second part out, but that would be like repaying all of Benji’s honesty with a lie of omission, and that wasn’t the way to do this. No matter how terrifying it was to admit the truth, finally.
“Just . . .” The truth dawned on Benji gradually, and Diego could see the comprehension flash on his face as he figured it out. “You only slept with Vicky.”
It was even tougher to admit this part, with Benji staring down at him, chest still rising and falling like they were in the middle of a particularly blazing make-out session. Diego imagined how he’d look fucking him—though that was hardly the first time he’d ever had that thought, it was definitely the most visceral.
“I never wanted anybody else,” Diego admitted. “I only wanted you.”
Benji’s gaze softened. Diego had hoped so much that he wouldn’t feel guilty, wouldn’t feel responsible for making Diego wait, when it had been both their choices and not any one person’s fault specifically. “I’m honored,” he said, and leaned forward, finally. Diego moaned as Benji’s cock, a hard line in his jeans, brushed his own. “I love you, and I’m going to make this so damn perfect for you.”
It’s going to be perfect because it’s you, Diego thought, his heart swelling with love for this kind, loyal, sexy-as-fuck man in front of him.
Diego pulled his jeans and his boxers off as Benji yanked off his t-shirt, and for a breathless split second, they stared at each other.
“You should take your clothes off too,” Diego said, waving at Benji’s jeans, and the big dick so clearly outlined in them. It had been perfect in his mouth, so gorgeously hard against his tongue, the best thing he’d ever tasted, and now it was going to be goddamned perfect in his ass. If Benji would ever get to that part.
“I think I should wait,” Benji said carefully and reached over, grabbing a tube from the drawer. “I’m sort of desperate here, and I don’t want to rush you.”
Diego shifted on Benji’s dark green Egyptian cotton sheets. They were soft and silky against his bare skin, but he wanted those big hands on him, inside him. “I said I hadn’t done this before with anyone,” Diego clarified, rolling his eyes, “not that I hadn’t done it. When we go back to my house, I’ll show you my toy collection.”
Benji froze and then grinned. “So a finger or two and you’re ready to take me, eh?”
Opening his legs, Diego smirked. “Whatever you think I need, baby.”
But despite his words, Benji approached Diego with a single-minded dedication and focus, carefully soothing a lube-covered thumb over his hole, and then even more carefully pressing it in, millimeter by millimeter.
Out of the two of them, Diego knew he at least had more practical experience. “You can go a little faster, you know,” he panted. “It’s good. It’s so good.” Probably more because it was Benji than because he’d done anything particularly special.
Apparently it really felt different when someone you truly cared about touched you, than when you touched yourself. Deep down, buried in a place he didn’t think about much, he’d wanted to believe that was true, but for so long it hadn’t mattered because he couldn’t have the one person he’d ever wanted.
Now it was finally happening, and Diego felt blown apart and then painstakingly reassembled every single time Benji pushed a big finger in and then pulled it back out.
His sweaty hair fell into his face but through it he could see the concentration on Benji’s face, like getting this right was the most important thing in the world to him, and that sent a whole wave of love and affection and want sweeping through him.
And then Benji started talking, so quietly at first that Diego, with all the pleasure roaring through his ears, couldn’t quite hear him. Then he could and the low words were enough to send him into writhing desperation.
“So good, so tight, so goddamned perfect,” Benji muttered under his breath, “you’re going to feel so good around me, I can barely stand
it. I need to make it good for you, the best, make you feel so good.”
Like Benji had no idea that he was already splintering him apart with the deliberate movements of his fingers, the way he brushed up against his prostate every so often, just enough to sent a jolt of wicked bliss through him.
“Enough, enough,” Diego finally demanded. “Come here and kiss me. And then fuck me, for the love of God, please.”
But Benji didn’t move, frozen in place with three of his fingers buried deep inside Diego, making him twist against them. He was so full and he was about to be even fuller. It was like all his fantasies brought to life, but it was so much better already than he’d ever imagined.
“Are you sure?” Benji asked, clearly concerned. “You know . . . I’m not exactly small.”
Oh, Diego knew, and it was glorious. He’d wanted that big, thick cock for so long, and he was finally going to get it.
“Yeah,” Diego exhaled. “Please.”
Diego watched as Benji removed his fingers and immediately felt the loss. Continued watching as those fingers shook as he tried to open the box of condoms, and shook even more as they opened the packet.
Maybe Diego should have been asking Benji if he was okay with all of this, instead of the other way around.
“Are you sure?” Diego asked quietly as Benji rolled on the condom.
“I’m just . . . I want you so much, I’m . . .” Benji waved toward his cock and gave Diego a rueful grin. “I’m afraid I want you too much.”
“It’s okay,” Diego promised, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Anything that happens is fine. Good. Spectacular, even. Come here and kiss me first.”
Benji obeyed, climbing back on the bed and meeting Diego’s hungry kiss with one of his own. The kissing was so good, so right, like two magnets clicking together, that it seemed to ratchet the tension between them even higher. Diego was half-convinced the moment he felt Benji’s cock inside of him, holding back was going to be impossible.
