by Anna Martin
With one of Stan’s ankles on Ben’s shoulder, Ben had perfect access to Stan’s hole. He watched Stan’s face carefully as he pressed one lube-slick finger into Stan’s body, then two, then started to fuck him slowly with both fingers. A shiny pool of precome started to gather on Stan’s belly, just under the incredibly pink head of his cock.
“Ben,” Stan said again, a new way of expressing his tortured exasperation. “If you do not fuck me in a minute, I will get down there and fuck you.”
Ben laughed, delighted, and pressed his lips to Stan’s belly as he carefully pulled his fingers free of Stan’s body. His lips danced over the smooth, flat muscles, then he blew a raspberry on the delicate curve of Stan’s ribs, making him squirm and squeal.
“What are you doing?” Stan demanded, laughing manically.
“Roll over,” Ben said, laughing too and reaching for a condom. He kissed Stan’s shoulder, rolled the latex over his cock, then used more lube as Stan kicked the lace underwear off, rolled onto his side, and hugged his knees to his chest.
Stan sighed heavily, and Ben shifted forward, finding a good angle to press his cock into Stan’s body, pausing for a moment, then pushing all the way in. Ben propped himself up on his elbow, the best possible angle to watch Stan’s face while they made love.
With his eyes screwed tightly shut, Stan scrabbled blindly for Ben’s hand, found it, then drew it around his body to press a firm palm against his chest. Ben picked up a slow, even thrusting back and forth, back and forth and cupped his hand over the lace cropped top, thumbing Stan’s nipple.
“Worth the wait?” Ben asked, his voice low. “God, you feel good.”
“Yeah.” Stan laughed softly and squirmed. “Yes, it’s good for me too.”
Neither could last long like this; not with Stan’s cock aching against his belly and the tightness of his body gripping Ben’s cock as he eased slowly, purposefully in and out. He reached up and pushed Stan’s long, fine hair back from his neck, and pressed his lips to the shell of Stan’s ear.
“I’m close, baby. Can I come inside you?”
“Yes. Oh, God, Ben.”
Stan cried out as Ben nudged against his prostate, and with Ben’s gentle fingers tugging his cock, he shuddered and came. For a second, Ben rode the high with his partner, completely entranced by the beauty of Stan’s body mid-orgasm. Then his own body demanded release, and with his face pressed against Stan’s shoulder, he lost control and came hard.
For a long moment, the silence in the room was deafening, and Ben was sure his ears were ringing. Then Stan let out a choked laugh, Ben shuddered, and carefully pulled his cock free of Stan’s still-twitching hole.
“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” Ben muttered, making Stan laugh again. “That was….”
“Incredible,” Stan finished for him. He rolled over, kissed Ben’s chest, then rolled back and got carefully out of the bed. “I’m just going to go… clean up.”
Ben nodded and used his discarded underwear to wipe at his crotch. By the time Stan returned a few minutes later, blissfully naked now. Ben wasn’t sure where the red lace cropped top had gone, he hoped not too far. It was incredibly hot.
“Come here,” he said on a yawn, lifting his arm so Stan could snuggle into his side. Stan’s skin was cold, like it always was, and Ben tugged at the duvet until it covered them both. “You okay? I didn’t hurt you?”
“No.” Stan let his fingers trail over Ben’s chest and yawned widely. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Ben pressed his lips to Stan’s hair. “Okay. Good. G’night, baby.”
“Good night.”
Chapter Ten
Stan’s alarm beeped chirpily far too early in the morning, considering how late they’d been awake doing things the night before. He slapped it until it silenced, then rolled back into Ben’s embrace for a few final minutes of warmth and comfort before the day dragged them away from each other.
Ben threw his arm around Stan’s waist and grumbled unintelligibly as he buried his nose in the back of Stan’s neck. These early morning moments were short, but precious, and Stan let himself savour the warm peace for far longer than he should have before leaning back, kissing Ben’s temple, then rolling out of bed.
Not so long ago, he would have considered this a late wake-up, but since Ben had moved in, their mornings were getting later and later. He couldn’t blame Ben for it, not really; Ben worked late, especially when he closed up at the pub, and it took him a little while to unwind once he got home. Stan understood and didn’t mind, even if Ben almost always woke him up when he finally came to bed.
Stan brushed his teeth while waiting for the shower to warm up, then enclosed himself in the glass cubicle. In his dream house, they’d have a tub—maybe one of those claw-footed tubs with antique-style taps. For now, though, the cubicle was fine.
After a minute or so, the bathroom door swung open and Ben stumbled in—his hair a hilarious mess, the black boxers he’d worn to bed riding very low on his slim hips.
Stan smiled and turned away as Ben proceeded to pee—loudly—grunting and grumbling to himself as he pushed his hair back with his free hand. Moments later, Stan felt a chill on his skin as Ben let himself into the shower.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” Stan said, grinning, as Ben wrapped his arms around Stan’s body.
“Mornin’,” Ben huffed. He rocked them together back and forth under the water, his lips gathering up the little drops of water on Stan’s neck.
“How come you’re up so early?”
“Came to see if you’d soaped your balls up yet. Thought I could help.”
Stan let a silly grin spread across his face, content that from behind him, Ben couldn’t see it. He grabbed Ben’s wrist and dragged it down his body, then cupped the hand around his cock and balls. Ben snorted with laughter into Stan’s neck.
“Need soap?” Stan asked innocently.
“I never know what half the potions in here do.” Ben let go of Stan’s package and stretched both arms over his head, making his back crack. “I’m scared to touch them.”
“Good,” Stan said, poking him in the chest. “They’re expensive.”
He took Ben’s palm and poured some of his silky, body-oil conditioning wash into it, then gestured for Ben to rub his hands together to lather it up. Ben took his time massaging the rich foam into Stan’s skin, his palms skimming over Stan’s chest and back, down his arms, then slowly rubbing his shoulders.
“You still sore from last night?” Ben asked, his fingers dancing down Stan’s spine and skimming over his ass.
“I’m okay.” Stan’s cock was growing, throbbing gently, but he really, really didn’t have time for this. “But I have to get to work.”
Arching his back, Stan shot what he hoped was a sultry grin over his shoulder. “Maybe tonight you can fuck me like this.”
Ben grabbed Stan’s hips and rutted his own hard cock against Stan’s soft cheeks, groaning before pulling away and turning the temperature handle all the way round to freezing cold.
Stan shrieked and jumped back, then hit Ben on the chest. “What did you do that for?” he demanded, half laughing, half pissed off.
“Because I want you so bad right now I could scream,” Ben said, tipping his head back under the cold water. “You have absolutely no fucking idea how gorgeous you are.”
Stan huffed, almost placated, got out of the shower, and wrapped a towel around his waist. “You have fun in there,” he said and flounced back to the bedroom.
“Stan,” Victoria said sharply.
Stan looked up from his computer, brushing his hair away from his face. His boss looked pissed, but that was her default expression, and he tried not to wither under her formidable gaze.
“Can I help?”
“We need an article on winter sun-holiday destinations.”
Stan nodded slowly. “Okay. Can you email me a brief? And a deadline?”
“I’m going to need you to turn it around quickly. There’s
a gap in the layout. We had to pull Helen’s smoothie article. It was….” She trailed off and shook her head. “Not good.”
“I can do that.”
“Okay, good. It’s going to be a tight deadline, Stan. Drop everything else. Work on this instead.”
“I can do that.”
Victoria turned on her sharp heel and stalked off back down the hall. If he wasn’t used to working for women like this, with demands like this, and the blatant disregard for work-life balance, it would upset him. Or at least throw him off his game. Victoria wasn’t as badass as she liked to think she was though. He’d worked for worse people in Italy.
With a little regret, Stan saved the blog post he’d been working on and emailed it home to himself. It was going to have to wait. After a moment’s hesitation, he picked up his phone and shot off a message to Ben.
Don’t bother cooking tonight. I’ll be late. Something came up. Love you.
A few moments later, he got a reply.
Love you too. Please make sure you order some dinner.
The mother-hen thing irked him sometimes, even though Stan got the impression that was just Ben. He did it to everyone.
In the old days, having his job take over his life didn’t mean so much to Stan. His work was his life; there hadn’t been much outside it to mess up. Things had changed. Stan had changed. Throwing himself into turning out a new article, including sourcing appropriate imagery and the research behind it, killed his social life. Killed it.
In the week it took to finish the article, Stan had to turn down Tone’s offer of dinner one evening when Ben was working, he missed band practice on Thursday night and the gig Ares played on Friday. He worked Saturday too, so he couldn’t go down to the South Bank with Kirsty and her friends to mooch along and watch the world go by.
By six on Saturday, it was almost done, the layouts approved, and all he needed to do was get Victoria’s sign-off on Monday morning and they could draw a line underneath the whole bloody thing. It had been a good project, in hindsight, and if he’d been given four weeks instead of one, he probably would have enjoyed it a lot more. As it was, his back ached, his eyes were itchy, and he’d gone to work that morning in jeans and one of Ben’s band T-shirts. At least it was the weekend, so no one was around to see him looking so scruffy.
Stan let himself into the flat, dumped his bag next to the door, and toed off his shoes. It was quiet, even though he could tell the balcony doors were open, letting in the late afternoon breeze.
Ben was asleep on the sofa.
He had his hands pillowed under his cheek, bottom lip pouting as his chest rose and fell with each slow breath. Stan smiled as he went over to the sofa, then perched in the space made by the curve of Ben’s body.
“Hey,” he whispered softly, pushing Ben’s hair back from his face. “Sleeping beauty.”
“Hmm?” Ben smacked his lips and screwed up his face. Stan giggled and leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead. “You all done?”
“Yep. Well, as done as I can be, for now.”
“Good.”
Ben pulled Stan’s arm, knocking him off-balance and shifting onto his back with Stan on top of him.
“Well, that was inelegant. You could have just asked.”
There was something about the way Ben pressed his face to Stan’s hair, breathing deep, then laughing softly. It had become a warm, familiar gesture, something that encapsulated their relationship in one sweet moment.
“I missed you this week.”
“I’m sorry,” Stan said automatically.
“You don’t need to apologise. I know you’re busy. And your job is important.”
“I work for a fashion magazine, Ben. It’s not exactly life-or-death.”
“It’s important to you,” Ben said, then yawned. “So it’s important to me. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you when you go AWOL, though.”
“It doesn’t happen very often.”
“That’s true.”
“Are you working tonight?” Stan asked, pushing himself up onto his forearms so he could look down at Ben’s sleepy face.
“No, I opened up earlier. Worked ten ’til five.”
“Oh.”
“What time is it now?”
“Almost seven.”
Ben reached up and tucked Stan’s hair back behind his ear. “You wanna do something tonight?”
“If by ‘something’ you mean watching a movie, ordering in dinner, maybe cracking open a bottle of wine… then yes. I want to do something.”
“I actually picked up a bottle of that Pinot Grigio you like on the way home.”
Stan leaned in and kissed him loudly. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”
When Ben squeezed his ass, Stan squealed with laughter.
“So, I have news,” Ben said when he was done making Stan laugh and they had righted themselves into a seated position. “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but you’ve been busy….”
“No, that’s okay,” Stan said, tucking his hair behind his ear again. “Tell me now.”
“We got offered a gig,” Ben said with a rueful smile.
“Oh? That’s good. Where is it?”
“It’s more of a tour.”
Stan gave him an even look, cocked his head to the side, waiting for an explanation.
“Okay, so it’s a tour. Six weeks to start with, maybe more.”
“Oh.”
“Please don’t look at me like that,” Ben said. “Please. I said I didn’t want to go, but if I back out, then no one else can go either, and I can’t be the one to hold them back. They’d never forgive me, and they’re my friends.”
“You have to follow your dreams,” Stan said gently. “I know that.”
“It’s not my dream, though,” Ben said with a harsh laugh. “It’s theirs.”
“You’ll have fun. But what about work?” Stan asked.
“We’ll get an allowance,” Ben said. “It’s not great, but we get a percentage of ticket sales too, so it really pays for us to do loads of promoting and stuff. Racket City is fairly well established now, so they’ve got their fan base. We’re hoping they’ll draw in the crowds. I know we’re sold out in a couple of places already.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah. The kids break up for summer holidays next week, so my tutoring work always slows down this time of year. There’s only a few parents who are hardcore enough to keep their kids in tutoring over the summer. I’ve called all of them and let them know, told them I can give them recommendations for other people if they still want a regular service.”
“And the bar?”
“Oh, they don’t care,” Ben said, waving it off. “They’ll get a load of temps in for a few weeks, Australian backpackers or whatever. The staff turnover in there is so high, anyway, they won’t miss us.”
“I’m sure they will.”
Ben shrugged. “We’ve got our jobs still when we get back. That’s the main thing.”
“Yes.”
“Stan.”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking…” Stan said slowly. “I’m thinking I’m going to miss you.”
Ben dropped his forehead to Stan’s. “I’m going to miss you too.”
Stan had hesitated for days before deciding to follow his instinct and buy Ben the gift he’d been thinking about. It had come to him in a dream, or in the very first moments of being awake, when he was aware of Ben’s strong arms around his waist and little else.
Those moments of stillness and quiet allowed his mind to chase possibilities. Ben had told him that he liked being able to hold things close to his chest when he slept. So Stan wanted to buy him a teddy bear. It seemed, to Stan at least, like a very logical conclusion.
He already had a speech planned, mostly to direct at Tone, but also to anyone else who might be around. They weren’t to make fun of Ben, not at all, because this was something Stan wanted to do for him. If he
couldn’t be there every night to give Ben something to hold, he wanted to pick the substitute.
After a little bit of research, he’d headed into Hamleys on a weekday afternoon. He was on his lunch break officially, and Stan knew no one would mind if he took a bit longer than an hour.
The store was busy, as he’d expected, but not horrendously so. After a few minutes of wandering around aimlessly, finding himself distracted by the flashing lights and music and pretty colours on the ground floor, he took the escalator up to the toys for younger children were kept.
Apparently it wasn’t going to be as easy as just picking up a teddy bear.
The section was huge, stretching away with rows and rows of bears and bunnies and caterpillars and dinosaurs and monkeys and strange dolls with glassy eyes. Stan avoided those.
Slowing his pace, he started to wander down the aisles, letting his fingers trail over the different fabrics, wondering what Ben would like best. Not that Ben was the sort of guy who would ever consciously seek out a toy to cuddle at night. That was why Stan needed to do it for him.
He paused in front of a display of soft, soft animals. He was immediately drawn to a giraffe, one with a long neck and a baleful expression and fur so soft it was silky. Stan gently smoothed the fur over the giraffe’s head and smiled to himself. He was just about to pick it up, when another animal caught his eye.
It was a bunny rabbit, one he’d initially dismissed. But this one was inky-black, with long ears and a tiny, very pale pink nose.
“You’ll do,” Stan murmured, pleased with the weight of the toy, thinking of how well it would fit nicely snuggled up against Ben’s chest. A black bunny rabbit. Very rock and roll.
The pretty girl on the desk offered to wrap it for him, and Stan nodded, delighting in the crinkly, red tissue paper that kept his rock-and-roll rabbit safe for the journey home. Stan tucked the shopping bag inside his handbag and nodded his thanks to the girl who had taken such care with the rabbit. It had an important job to do.
There weren’t many weeks between Ben finding out about the tour and it actually happening, and the time seemed to fly by. Stan caught himself watching the clock constantly, at work, on the Tube, in the evenings when they curled around each other on the sofa and he put his fingers in Ben’s hair and tried not to cling.
