by J P Barnaby
Ben’s touch was so gentle, so different from what he’d expected when he found out about the shit that he and Kage did together. In his fantasies, Jude always assumed Ben would be harsh and aggressive. It wasn’t something he really enjoyed, but to have Ben…. When his touch was tender, it threw Jude off balance, and his heart strained in his chest. He shouldn’t want more. He shouldn’t want to crawl up in the bed and claim Ben’s mouth with his own, he should just take what he could get.
“That feels so good,” Ben rasped as his uninjured leg shook beneath where Jude’s hand rested. His breathing had taken on a harsh, jagged sound that would have worried Jude if he hadn’t been causing it. Suddenly, he wondered if this would hurt his friend. Ben’s blood pressure had to be elevated, his breathing was off. He let Ben’s dick slide from his lips and sat up.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a small voice. He didn’t want to stop, he never wanted to stop, but he couldn’t risk Ben’s health. Ben’s hand tightened on Jude’s shoulder, and it took him a minute to answer.
“No.” Jude’s heart broke at the tremor in Ben’s voice. Something was wrong; the pain in those sweet blue eyes took away their normal intensity and replaced it with translucent heartbreak. Fucking Kage. It had to be something to do with Kage, who had been to their apartment earlier that evening. Jude didn’t want to talk about it then. He didn’t want the ugly, imposing man to interrupt the most important moment of his life.
Unable to stand the desperation in Ben’s face, Jude lay down almost on the edge of the small full-sized bed and pulled Ben’s head onto his shoulder. His hand was still wrapped around Ben’s cock, and he started stroking again, lubricated by his own spit from his impromptu blow job. Ben’s breathing became ragged and he moved, throwing his arm around Jude’s shoulders, pulling their faces closer. It took Jude a second to realize what was happening before Ben’s lips closed over his.
Oh sweet Jesus.
It was better than any fantasy he’d ever had, every half-remembered moment from their drunken night together. Ben’s harsh breaths washing into his mouth as his hips began to move into Jude’s touch. Soft lips matching each of his tender kisses. God, his body was on fire. He couldn’t remember ever having been so fucking hard. Swallowing another hot whimper, he changed his grip on Ben’s dick, fisting it, twisting his grip around the head. His own cock throbbed, trapped within the thin material of his pajama bottoms, but it wasn’t about him. It was about Ben and erasing the haunted look in his eyes.
One more hot and tender kiss broke Jude’s sanity, but Ben was right there with him. With a harsh, ragged moan against Jude’s cheek, Ben’s prick erupted in Jude’s hand. Warm semen jetted across his fingers, slicking his grip so that the final shuddering strokes were wet and hot as Ben shook in his arms. Ben’s flushed cheek was warm against his as he sat very still and didn’t let go of the man in his arms. Hot breath washed over his face as Ben, panting, worked to bring himself back under control and Jude’s cock throbbed in his pants.
“Raise up a second,” Ben whispered. Jude pushed up onto his elbow and watched Ben warily. He was horny, blown away by what was happening between them, and not sure he could take the rejection if Ben asked him to leave. Rather than pushing him away, Ben pulled his uninjured hand from beneath Jude’s shoulders, spit into it, and wrapped it around Jude’s dick.
“Oh my God,” Jude breathed against Ben’s temple.
“I’m sorry I can’t return the favor on that blow job, babe, maybe in a couple of weeks.” The relaxed humor in Ben’s voice warmed him, and he clung to the endearment even as his world started to spin. The slow, deliberate movements of the hand on his cock made his balls ache. Already so close from watching Ben come undone, from just being in bed with him, Jude closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensations. Ben was tired and hurting, but Jude’s selfish need for him wouldn’t relent. Rather than finishing himself off as he should, he jerked his hips up, fucking Ben’s hand. Tiny, helpless whimpers escaped him, but he couldn’t stop.
His heart hurt because he knew once the come started to cool, it would be over. He didn’t want it to ever be over. A cry of pain and frustration was muffled in Ben’s shoulder as the weight of his orgasm barreled into him like a freight train and come shot over his stomach. Ben continued to stroke him lightly, keeping him on edge, making him tremble. A single tear slipped down his cheek, hidden by the darkness, and he felt the crack in his chest open a little wider.
Eight
“DO YOU want to talk about last night?” Ben asked the following morning as Jude sat him up at the couch with a tray of oatmeal, toast, and coffee balanced over his legs. He didn’t pick up his spoon or even take a drink of the coffee. Instead, Jude could feel Ben’s stare as he set up a bowl at the breakfast bar. He didn’t want to talk about it. Talking about it would shatter the illusion that Ben wanted to be with him.
“Dude, we got off, guys do that all the time. No big,” Jude replied, not turning around, and prayed silently that would be the end of it. He was sorely disappointed.
“I just don’t want shit to get awkward again.”
Jude’s felt physical pain in his chest at Ben’s statement. I just don’t want shit to get awkward. I don’t want you to think it meant something. You were convenient. The dark voice in the back of his head filled in the blanks Ben left like gaping holes in Jude’s heart. It took him less than a minute to scrape his untouched oatmeal into the trash. Ben tried to call him back, but the safety and solace of his room called far louder.
He closed the door behind him with a sharp snap, muffling Ben’s voice. Grabbing the closet door, he flung it open and ruffled through his perfectly pressed shirts and crisply hung pants to find something for work. His life seemed to mock him from every corner of his room. Such a fucking geek, no wonder Ben didn’t want him. The collection of replica lightsabers hung over his dresser didn’t exactly mesh with the tattooed auto mechanic who liked Harleys and big guys in leather. Several shirts fell as he ripped a blue button-down from one of the hangers. He didn’t bother to pick them up. He just didn’t care. Though, he was more careful as he pulled out a pair of khaki pants to go with it. Fisting the hangers in one hand, he rifled through his drawer with the other and found underwear and socks. With an exasperated breath at his own naivety, he headed for the door so he could shower and escape to his office.
He opened it to see Ben swaying on his good leg, half supported by the wall next to Jude’s bedroom door. Face flushed with the exertion of getting from the couch to Jude’s room, his body was covered in a light mist of sweat. It was virile, male, and made Jude want to bury his face in the curve of Ben’s neck. Instead, he took a step backward.
“I know I took advantage of our friendship last night, and I’m sorry,” Ben confided with a slight tremor in his voice, an emotional response Jude rarely saw in his friend. His face colored as he continued. “It didn’t occur to me that you could hear me, or that you’d feel you had to help me with that. It crossed the line. I never meant to make you feel sorry for me like that and—”
“You didn’t force me to do anything. Did it ever occur to you that I could have just rolled over and gone back to sleep?”
“Yes, that’s why I don’t understand why you… did what you did.” It was almost like Ben couldn’t force himself to say “sucked me off.” Jude lifted Ben’s arm and carefully put it around his shoulders. Taking one slow step at a time, he avoided answering by guiding Ben back to the living room. He left the tray perched precariously on the edge of the low coffee table and eased his friend back onto the couch. Eyes averted, he grabbed the breakfast tray and placed it across Ben’s legs, ever conscious of the brace.
“I did it because I wanted to,” he replied with an unfamiliar rasp to his voice. He thought maybe it was pain. Ben didn’t try to stop him when he moved away. He sat staring at his breakfast tray as Jude made his way around the couch and headed up the hall.
IN ORDER to get better, he had to eat. His body needed it, he kne
w that; but as Ben watched Jude’s back going through the bathroom doorway, the thought of food made his stomach turn. Something was wrong; Ben just couldn’t understand what. Jude made a good point: guys got off together all the time—even close friends like them. So, what was the big deal? Why did Jude look like Ben had kicked his puppy? It was just like that time they got drunk and ended up in bed. He hadn’t been able to stand the devastation in Jude’s face and avoided him until things went back to normal.
He picked up the bowl of oatmeal, congealed into a cold lump of carbs he’d have a hell of time working off once he could move again. The spoonful of slime-covered oats got stuck in his throat. Kage cast him off like a busted doll no longer capable of filling his needs. Jude looked like he couldn’t wait to get away from him and go to work after he’d taken such awful advantage of their friendship, again. It was like he had absolutely no impulse control. Whenever he wanted something, he just had to have it and damn the consequences. So fucking selfish. He deserved to be alone.
Juliette’s face swam across the tears welling in his eyes. They used to sit for hours in the family room playing chess on an old glass set he’d gotten for Christmas years before. She had been fiercely competitive and wickedly smart, and it didn’t take very long once he’d taught her to play for her to start beating him. He got a good game in every once in a while, but she had always taken at least two out of three. In that moment, he’d do anything to have her sitting across from him, cross-legged on the floor planning out her next five moves. The need tore at him.
He wanted more than anything not to feel so alone.
The cold toast tasted like cardboard, but he ate it anyway, washing it down with lukewarm coffee. He couldn’t give Jude any more grief. If it wasn’t for his friend, Ben would be back with his parents, in the room with his sister’s shrine. Looking at that memorial, that testimonial to his failure every single day, made the trapped, panicky feeling in his chest worse. Until finally, he knew if he didn’t get out of the house, he would lose his fucking mind. No way he’d move back in with his parents, not and keep what little sanity he had left.
“Do you have everything?”
The spoon clattered to their hardwood floor as Jude’s voice made him jump. Jerking around to see Jude standing behind him, Ben winced at the stabbing pain in his shoulder. His roommate came around the couch and stood just beyond the end of the coffee table, just out of his reach. With a sigh, Ben looked around and inventoried the stuff Jude had set out. Laptop, phone, crutches, books, remotes, morphine pump, pills, bottles of water in a small cooler of ice, and protein bars—everything an invalid needed for a quiet day at home sat around him in a helpful semicircle.
“Yes, I have everything. If I don’t, I have crutches and a phone,” he muttered. God, he hated feeling like that. He hated being dependent on anyone—emotionally or physically—and right then he was both. The distance between them bothered Ben, not just because he relied on Jude for his survival, but because it hurt to see his friend in pain.
“Ronnie will be down to check on you after her shift, and I’ll bring something home for dinner. Text me if there’s anything in particular you want, okay?” Jude dug through his bag, and Ben got the feeling he was looking for a reason to avert his eyes.
When Ben didn’t respond, Jude finally looked up, and Ben held his gaze for a long time. He wanted to tell Jude what it meant to him that Jude volunteered to care for him, and how much he needed their friendship, but the words got stuck in his oatmeal-coated throat. Instead, he simply watched as Jude gathered up his bag and his lunch and left.
The closing of the door was loud in the apartment, silent except for the little clicking of claws on the hardwood floor.
“Max, come here, baby,” Ben called with the first real stirring of joy in his heart. The sound accelerated wildly as it got closer, and he saw the sweet dog slide around the end of the couch headed for him.
Finally, someone who will always be happy to see me.
Ben tilted forward, careful of the morphine pump, and scooped Max up in his left arm. Nuzzling the little bundle of fur against his face, he held his tiny friend close even as the tears began to fall.
“You need to be careful with me today, buddy. I’m broken,” he whispered. Max didn’t seem to mind. He crawled slowly to the middle of Ben’s chest and lay down, nuzzling against Ben’s shirt in a way that begged to be petted. Ben tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. Instead, he simply rubbed Max’s head, comforted by the gentle weight. As the clock ticked away the hour, and another infusion of morphine hit his bloodstream, Ben fell asleep with Max tucked safely in his arms.
He slept on and off all afternoon. The only real interruption came when their neighbor Ronnie came to check on him and Max. Ronnie was a sweet, quiet woman who worked part-time at the local library to supplement her late husband’s pension checks. Though somewhere in her late sixties, she never batted an eye at their lifestyle or their friendship, and they carried her groceries up the stairs. She came to check on them when they were sick, and they got up on the ladder to change her lightbulbs. Ben was thankful for Ronnie because not all of their neighbors were so friendly.
“How are you, honey?” she asked as she sat a paper bag on the breakfast bar. They’d exchanged keys about a year ago in the event of an emergency. Hers sat in the drawer of the table in the hall. A tiny blue pig on the key chain identified them conclusively as hers.
“I’m okay, Ronnie,” he replied with a sigh, feeling anything but. She didn’t need to hear about his problems though; she’d taken on enough just agreeing to come down and check on him, feed him, and help him to the john while Jude was at work. Somehow, he didn’t think the nice lady with her jaw-length brown bob and glasses on a chain would really understand about his relationship with Kage. She pulled a sweater tighter around her shoulders as she went into the kitchen with the bag she’d brought.
“You look like crap,” she said, and he laughed. He couldn’t help it.
“Thank you, Ronnie,” he replied. When she came back in with utensils, two bowls, paper plates, and the paper bag, he saw that she was smiling. With a wink, she started pulling things out of the bag: sandwiches, a large plastic container of soup, a big baggie of chips, and a slice of chocolate cake wrapped in Saran Wrap. It looked amazing.
“I hope you like chicken. I’d just baked one last night and had some leftovers for sandwiches.” Ronnie laid everything out on his tray before opening the soup and stirring it slowly.
“I hope you brought some for yourself, I’m starving,” Ben said, a little more animated after seeing the chocolate cake. Ronnie looked at him, a little startled. He could see the exact moment she realized he was kidding when she relaxed and swatted him on his good arm.
“Boy, I’m gonna break your other arm if you eat my sandwich.”
He laughed, for what felt like the first time in months.
They talked for the better part of an hour as Ben struggled to eat his soup left-handed. Though Ronnie offered help, Ben couldn’t stand the thought of being fed like a toddler. He managed, only spilling a bit of the lemon rice on his shirt. The Greek chicken sandwich was amazing with its light lemon-garlic flavor and soft crusty bread. He felt almost guilty that Jude was probably eating yogurt or maybe one of the frozen dinners while he had this wonderful lunch.
“I wish Jude could have had some of this. It’s incredible, Ronnie,” he mused, taking another bite of the sandwich he’d just held up for emphasis. Ronnie smiled and patted him lightly on his good knee.
“Don’t you worry ’bout that. I left him a bit in your refrigerator for his lunch tomorrow.”
“Ronnie, you can’t cook for both of us every day like that. We’ll eat you out of house and home.” Ben grabbed his wallet from the side table and started to open it when she put a hand on his.
“Jude already took care of that, sweetheart. Your only job right now is to get better, okay?” She held his hand for a long moment. “Anyway,” she continued, “
I have some painting I want you to do for me. So, you have to get better and stop lounging around on this couch watching soaps all day.” She winked at him and he laughed again. As if he’d watch soaps. Working the afternoon shift for a while, he’d seen what currently passed for daytime television. No thanks.
The afternoon shift.
Rufus.
He knew that Jude had already called the shop and spoken to Rufus about his accident, but he really needed to get the man on the phone at some point over the next few days and see if he was still going to have a job when he could walk on his own again. God, he was tired. He didn’t want to think about Kage, or Jude, or his job, or even the pain in his head and limbs. He just wanted to hit the button on his little magic machine and let it all go away. As Ronnie carried the bowls into the kitchen from lunch, he did just that. By the time she’d cleared everything away, he was drifting again. He was starting to really like that feeling, and that scared him most of all.
JUDE CLEARED everything off his desk by four o’clock, determined to leave on time so he could stop by Ben’s favorite Mexican place and pick up a bag of tacos for dinner. Dennis smirked as he walked by. Though Jude couldn’t even muster up energy to wonder at the cause, he still wanted to trip him as he passed. Then he remembered what Ben said about pushing Dennis off the boat at one of the company functions, and he smiled.
“Hey Jude, can we talk about the audit schedule?” Andy called from his office just a few feet away, and Jude sighed. In all of the upheaval over the last few weeks, he’d completely forgotten about the start of audit season. They always had to work either late or weekends, mandatory overtime that Jude just didn’t want this year. He threw his MP3 player and empty lunch bag into his messenger bag so he’d be ready to leave and trudged into Andy’s office. Each step felt like chains on his ankles, but he kept walking nonetheless. He had no idea how he would keep his promise to Ben while working nights and weekends. Ronnie could pick up some of the slack, but he didn’t want to rely on her too heavily. She had her own life too.
