****
As expected, the condoms and lube were already on Isaiah’s nightstand, just waiting to be put to good use. Ben looked at them and briefly debated suggesting a bit of kissing before they got going. Then he rejected the idea. They didn’t kiss, as a general rule, and Isaiah didn’t need him changing the game today.
Instead he pulled Isaiah’s shirt over his head. There should be some kind of rule against covering up such a good-looking chest. Isaiah was all smooth brown skin and toned muscles, with no pesky hair obscuring the view.
“Always so hot,” he said. After all, everyone liked to hear something nice when they were having a bad day, and this was completely true.
Isaiah was getting better about accepting such compliments. You’d think by thirty-one a guy would believe it when someone told him he was hot, but he always compared himself to his gym rat brothers with their Mr. Universe abs and bulging pecs. Said brothers looked at ice cream like you were offering them arsenic. Ben much preferred Isaiah’s regular-guy hotness and willingness to join him for dessert as opposed to lecturing on the evils of refined sugar.
This time Isaiah smiled like he actually believed Ben. “You’re not too bad yourself.” Then he unbuckled his belt with a sultry gaze aimed at Ben’s crotch.
Ben appreciated the sound of a belt buckle being undone. There was so much potential in the situation, so many delightful permutations of fun to be had all wrapped up in glorious anticipation. Ever since he’d let this information slip, Isaiah had been working his belt to maximum advantage. Ben had no complaints.
He got a move on as far as his own disrobing went. Seeing Isaiah drop his pants was a good incentive there, and Ben unbuttoned his shirt as fast as possible. He had entirely too many clothes on.
Naked was better, not least because Isaiah had turned around to stick out his ass while he yanked off his socks. There was a sight Ben would never tire of seeing. The nice firm cheeks were the stuff of pornos, but these were real and Ben got to touch them, which was a hundred times better than any video on the web.
Time for less staring and more getting on with fucking. He walked over to trace his fingers along the back of Isaiah’s neck, which was a major hot spot that never failed to elicit a response. Isaiah moaned almost inaudibly and dropped his head forward.
Ben moved closer so he could lick up Isaiah’s spine. He could smell the citrus of Isaiah’s shampoo and feel the man shudder slightly with pleasure. Knowing he made Isaiah feel so good was an aphrodisiac all on its own.
“Lay down,” he said, and Isaiah did. Ben crawled over him on all fours and started trailing his tongue down the entire length of Isaiah’s spine, starting just above the crack of his ass and finishing at the sensitive stretch of his neck. On the return trip he used his lips to plant kisses.
Come to think of it, they did kiss, just not on the lips. Other body parts were fair game.
After a few rounds of this treatment Isaiah was relaxed and pliant. Ben rolled him over and, after putting the lube within reach, started playing with Isaiah’s delightfully responsive balls.
It was one of the great pleasures of sex with Isaiah that Ben could drive him crazy without ever touching his cock. The only downside was how the hair felt on Ben’s tongue, and he usually ended up stopping sooner than he would have if his tongue hadn’t gone fuzzy and insensate.
“Aww, yeah,” Isaiah said.
Ben mouthed a meandering line all over Isaiah’s sac. He took his time and admired how Isaiah’s cock grew with the ministrations, slowly filling and reaching up as though begging for attention.
It seemed like a good time to start prepping him, so Ben squirted some lube onto a finger and circled it around Isaiah’s hole, getting a sexy little moan for his trouble. He kept up his slow and steady pace, teasing with his finger while licking all around Isaiah’s balls. After another minute or two and an appropriate amount of squirming, he eased a finger inside and enjoyed the happy sigh he got in response.
When he judged Isaiah ready for a second finger, he flattened his tongue and dragged it along the whole of the very hard dick in his face, which was a reliably good action to take when a guy’s cock was two inches from your mouth. It was inevitably much appreciated.
For that matter, sucking the head between your lips and slurping on it always went over very well, too.
Ben worked Isaiah’s dick and ass. It was the best kind of work, and he knew when Isaiah was ready because the man was a wriggler when he was good and stretched. It was oddly charming to see him squirm around, all anxious for more.
Safety first. Ben ripped open the condom wrapped and rolled it down on his cock, followed by a generous dollop of lube. Isaiah took this time to stick a pillow under his ass and sling his legs around Ben’s back.
They’d done this often enough that it was easy for Ben to line up at the right angle to push himself into Isaiah for their maximum mutual pleasure. He paused for a moment when the head of his dick was inside, taking the time to admire the visual of their bodies joining. They were quite a contrast, his pale skin delving into Isaiah’s dark flesh, and it was absurdly hot to watch his own cock sink deeper until he was pressed up against Isaiah’s taut ass cheeks.
The two of them were dynamite in bed. They found their rhythm, a perfect push-pull that gave them enough stimulation to enjoy without finishing too soon. Soft grunts and the slapping of flesh on flesh filled the room.
In the middle of this hedonistic romp, Ben hoped he was giving Isaiah the distraction and escape he’d been looking for. Sex had the power to make everything else in a person’s life disappear, and he wanted that for Isaiah tonight.
He didn’t ask if Isaiah wanted it harder, because that would defeat the point of taking over all the thinking. He just did it. If Isaiah wanted less, he’d say so. Judging by the way he fisted the sheets, harder was very welcome indeed.
“Yeah, Ize. Damn, you’re good.”
Isaiah might not want to make decisions, but he was no passive lay. He bounced up and down on Ben’s cock, making a variety of appealing noises as he went, and ran his hands over every part of Ben’s body he could reach, which was a good percentage since he had long arms.
Basically, he was a wet dream come to life.
“Jerk yourself,” said Ben. It was a suggestion, not a command. Isaiah reached around to take his dick in hand, so he must’ve been as close as Ben felt.
Isaiah preferred a light grip, like his cock was fragile and needed gentle handling. Not Ben’s taste, but it lent elegance to the show of stroking himself. There were few things in life better than watching a man stroke himself while Ben was fucking him, especially when that man was Isaiah.
The sight sent Ben over the edge a little sooner than he’d expected. “Oh yeah,” he said, and was gone. There was no fighting the orgasm as it took over and he soared to the heights of bliss.
When he could focus again, he saw Isaiah’s hand flying up and down his dick. “Don’t stop,” he said, tone skirting the edges of begging. So, Ben somehow found the energy to keep thrusting himself in and out for another twenty seconds or so.
Isaiah tensed, and the clenching around Ben’s cock was almost too much. It was worth the overstimulation to see Isaiah throw his head back and groan as he spurted cum for a nice long time. Ben took pride in the kind of buildup that resulted in an especially long orgasm, and he’d done well here.
They both flopped on the bed, spent. Ben used up the last of his strength to toss the condom into the trash, and then he let himself fall on his stomach while his body worked up the ability to move again.
Moving after sex was overrated anyway.
Some four or five minutes later, Isaiah asked, “Have I mentioned that you’re seriously talented?”
“You have, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”
“I didn’t figure you would.”
Even when he could move again, Ben was in no hurry to leave. So when Isaiah said, “You wanna watch something?” he was only too happy to a
gree.
“Sure, but please tell me you’ve finally gotten Netflix.”
“Nope.”
“Come on, Ize. This is getting ridiculous. You need Netflix.”
“No, I don’t. Your account is logged in here.”
“That was supposed to be temporary.”
“You should’ve logged out then.”
Ben would’ve argued more, but it seemed like an unnecessary amount of work at the moment, so he let Isaiah win for the time being.
****
Westerns weren’t Ben’s thing. Not that he actively hated them, he just didn’t see any great appeal in a bunch of guys going around trying to out-macho each other and waving guns in each other’s faces.
For whatever reason, Isaiah felt differently, and since he was the one having a crap day, Ben gamely agreed to watch a western from the 60s which came up on Netflix. Under “Recommended for You”, no less.
“Wait a second. Since when are westerns showing up on my recommendations?”
“Since three days ago when I watched two in one night,” said Isaiah. “I told you, if you didn’t want me taking full advantage of your account, you should’ve logged out.”
“You make more money than I do. Why are you mooching off my Netflix?”
There was no malice in the statement, and Isaiah knew it. He flashed a cocky, sexy grin. “You made it so easy.”
Ben was finding it increasingly difficult to deny Isaiah, and the mooching hadn’t impeded his ability to watch Netflix at home. He let it go.
“Besides, what’s so bad about having more cowboys on your suggestion list?” asked Isaiah.
“They’re in westerns, not pornos, which means the cowboys are wearing clothes.”
“People can be sexy while fully dressed.”
“I know that. Not as sexy as when they’re at least partially undressed, generally speaking, but anyway the westerns are all guns, posturing, and pissing contests.”
“A little posturing can be fun. Anyway, it’s escapism.” With that, Isaiah started the movie.
Ben didn’t feel the need to escape anything in his life just then. He’d brought two lovers together, had great sex with Isaiah, and now was kicking back and relaxing on Isaiah’s comfortable couch. He was having a great day. Hard to make it much better, really.
Maybe that made him a selfish jerk, since Isaiah had been dumped. If so, he hoped that letting his friend pick the movie helped make up for this in karma points.
“Hey, Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for the pizza. And everything.”
“Sure thing. That’s what friends are for, right?”
The answer didn’t seem to cheer Isaiah up as much as it should have. He looked kind of sad as he nodded. “Right.”
“Anyway,” said Ben, trying very hard to go back into happy territory, “this cowboy is good-looking, clothes and all.”
“He can keep his clothes on,” said Isaiah. “You wore me out, and I wouldn’t be ready to ride a cowboy if one was knocking on the door. More’s the pity if a stud cowboy shows up.”
“I can get some chaps if it means that much to you.”
“Tempting.” Isaiah put on a show of consideration. “Would you really?”
He’d never actually given the idea any thought, but he was open to the scenario. “For you, sure. I’ll even throw on a ten-gallon hat if it sells the fantasy.”
“Hmm, I might just take you up on that sometime.”
Someone onscreen fired a gun. Not terribly interested in the first place, Ben’s mind had now wandered into questioning how comfortable chaps would be to wear during sex.
Yeah, it was a good evening, for sure.
Chapter Two
Saturday
Ben thought he looked terrible with a really short haircut. No way that was ever happening, unless for some bizarre reason he ever wanted to look like a cross between a hairless cat, a cue ball, and one of the struggling Chia Pets he’d had as a kid.
His hair was getting too long, and he hadn’t made up his mind if he wanted to stick with the same cut or try a new one, so he made a Saturday afternoon project of a hairstyle simulator. There was a great invention if there’d been once since the internet.
Bangs were out. They would drive him crazy, so he was skipping to the next style when someone rang his doorbell.
“Coming, coming.” On the way downstairs he grumbled mentally that it had better not be somebody trying to convert him, either to a religion or a new product.
It took him a moment to place the face looking at him with a set jaw and steely determination in her eyes as Marlene, Isaiah’s sister. Unlike her brothers, who all stayed in the same town where they grew up, Marlene lived a good ninety miles away, so Ben couldn’t think of a single reason she would show up on his doorstep. He’d only met her once at a barbecue.
“May I come in?” It was technically a question, but Ben didn’t get the impression her request was all that optional.
“Sure,” he said, and led the way upstairs, wishing he’d taken the time to wash the dishes which stood in the sink as a testament to his subpar housekeeping. The place wasn’t a total pigsty, though, so he couldn’t figure out the reason for Marlene’s disapproving older sister act.
Also… “How do you know where I live?”
“My husband is a private investigator. It took him about thirty seconds to find your address.”
“Right.” That wasn’t creepy at all. “Have a seat. Want a drink?” He only offered out of habit, because for all her faults, his mother had raised a polite host.
“No, thanks. I’m here about Isaiah.” Marlene perched on the sofa, and Ben sat in his recliner. Might as well be comfortable for whatever conversation she came to have.
“What about him?” This whole visit was mysterious, and Ben didn’t like mysteries. Not in books or movies, and least of all walking into his living room.
“He’s gonna want to kill me for coming here, but this is getting ridiculous,” said Marlene.
Ben waited for her to start making sense.
“He’s got a kind of emotional masochism where you’re concerned, or something. I don’t know. All I know is, this can’t continue. It’s no good for him.”
Emotional masochism? What the hell did that mean? “I don’t follow.”
“He loves you.”
Somehow, this possibility had never occurred to him. Not even a hint. As a result, Ben lacked any intelligent response, and just sat there flabbergasted.
Sure, he’d thought they might be able to have something, uncertain as the relationship might be to him. A general idea that they might make a good couple (emphasis, unfortunately, on the “might”) was not at all the same as Isaiah being in love with him.
It also brought up the uncomfortable question of what, exactly, Ben’s feelings were. He’d been skirting around them, knowing Isaiah was special to him but avoiding any kind of label, which was much harder to do once the sticker was on Isaiah’s feelings.
Marlene plowed ahead while Ben sat there trying to wrap his mind around her news. “Jonah was the third man in a row to break things off with Isaiah because he could tell how hung up on you my brother is.”
Didn’t people usually drop hints when they loved someone? Test the waters a little bit? Ben racked his brain and came up with nothing. Not one single clue that Isaiah felt more for him than friendship with a bit of lust.
“He’s a stubborn one,” said Marlene. “He absolutely refuses to consider telling you. Some ridiculous line about how he’s one hundred percent sure you’re not interested in him. He insists you’d know if you two were meant to be, whatever that means.”
Well, shit. Now that Ben thought about it, he’d never mentioned his gift didn’t work on himself. Isaiah was probably going around all this time thinking Ben knew with certainty they weren’t a perfect fit for each other. He had no idea about the damn blind spot.
“Look, I know this isn’t exactly my place, but I can�
�t just sit by and watch Ize pine away for you and miss out on someone who will love him back. You can say it’s his choice. He has, more than once. Maybe this makes me a meddling sister…”
Oh yes, it definitely did.
“…and I can live with that, if it means my brother is happy. If there’s any chance you could love him, give him a chance. If not, give him space to find someone who will.”
Ben very nearly growled in frustration, held back only by his ingrained manners. Snarling at guests was rude, even if they showed up uninvited to turn your world upside down. His mother would be proud.
How did people function when they were clueless about this critical business of love? How was Ben supposed to feel his way in the dark without his gift?
“You didn’t say no.” Marlene gave him a slight smile. “That’s promising.”
Ben had enough going on in his own head without trying to explain it to someone else. “It’s not that I don’t … that I can’t see where we could be great together.”
“Let me guess. It’s complicated, and you don’t want to risk screwing up your friendship if it doesn’t work out.”
“Something like that,” he said, not inclined to get into his unique talent and its limitation. He really needed to look for a message board related to his gift. Surely, he wasn’t the only person in the world who could identify which couples were meant for each other.
“My brother doesn’t deserve to be kept in a holding pattern, whether or not you realized you were doing it.”
So much for his peaceful Saturday. Ben sighed. “When you put it that way, I sound like an ass.”
Marlene’s eyebrows jumped. “Do you? I don’t think you’re trying to string Ize along. He chose not to give you all the information you need, and the situation has gotten bad enough that I’m interfering for his own good. Not that he’s likely to see it that way, but it’s true.”
Ben was an only child, and he wondered if he should be grateful he didn’t have a sister to meddle in his life, or regret the lack of someone who cared enough to do it.
Blind Spot Page 2
