by Con Riley
Theo remembered it all so clearly as he sat at the desk he used to share at home with Ben.
He remembered the noise and laughter of the people he worked with every single day, muted by the fire door he pressed Ben’s back to, and the heavy click of the lock.
He remembered the growing excitement he felt as Ben clung to him, pulling his hair a little, groaning into his mouth.
He remembered the way his breath had slammed out of his body as Ben turned him—quickly, forcefully—then flicked the light off, plunging them into darkness so complete that he almost fell.
Ben held him up, then sank down his body, nipping through Theo’s shirt, almost growling. The vibrations from his lips shot straight to Theo’s cock, and when Ben bit, then sucked hard on his nipple, Theo had made a sound that was one long, prolonged consonant. He couldn’t see a fucking thing. All he could do was feel.
The inky darkness made everything—each breath, each touch, each bite—a hundred times more intense. He leaned back against the door and stretched his arms out, bracing himself on the shelves that lined the walls to either side, giving himself up to Ben, needing him so badly.
In the dark, Ben’s Italian cursing and the sound of his own zipper being unfastened pushed him closer to the edge. His clothes had been yanked down roughly, and Ben shoved his face in close, huffing, licking, murmuring against Theo’s balls until he turned his face just enough that Theo’s cock was scuffed by Ben’s five o’clock shadow. The soft almost-scrape made Theo’s hands grasp, hanging tightly onto the metal of the shelf supports until they cut into his palms.
Seconds later, his cock was engulfed in wet heat. He jerked, feeling Ben’s teeth, the ridges in the roof of his mouth and—fuck, fuck, fuck—Ben’s lips tightening as he pulled back a little. He felt fingers slide their way up under his shirt, short nails pressing into his pecs before scraping across a nipple. Lightning bolted across the inside of his eyelids.
Theo lurched forward, making his cock slam against the slick constriction of Ben’s throat. His choke and cough made Theo groan so, so loudly. In the utter darkness, Theo sounded like a man dying, being killed, suffering terribly. He hadn’t ever felt anything so good. The hand on his chest flattened, pushing him back, holding him up. He might have been smaller than Theo, but Ben had been so fucking strong.
Sitting at his desk at home, Theo’s hand reached out—shaking—as he switched off his desk lamp and PC monitor.
He sat in the dark and tipped his head back, pretending for a moment that he was back in the archive room.
Back with his Ben.
The darkness had wrapped around them, leaving Theo feeling like he just might be floating as Ben started to suck him off. His groans filled the narrow space, and when he felt a tongue flick—right there—exactly where he was most sensitive, his knees had buckled. Ben’s throaty chuckle as he pulled Theo down onto the floor, both of them clumsy with blindness, had made Theo grin.
Their teeth clashed as they kissed, still smiling.
Theo tried his fucking best to get Ben’s pants off as he kicked his own away, but Ben grabbed for his hands, pressing soft, wet kisses into Theo’s palms before whispering how much he wanted to fuck him—here tesoro, right here, right now, yes? He shifted over Theo’s dick as he unfastened his own fly. Theo’s breath caught as he heard the zipper’s distinctive rasp. He helped to pull off Ben’s clothes as his lover wriggled and tugged himself free.
When Ben finally straddled him again, Theo hooked a hand around the back of Ben’s neck, dragging him down for a kiss that missed initially but went on to become deep, damp, and desperate. Ben kissed him back, sucking on his tongue until Theo felt his cock twitch, leaving its own wet kisses on his stomach.
In the dark, Ben’s dick felt heavy and so hot in Theo’s hand. He started to jack him off fast as Ben’s ass rubbed over his own dick. They both panted. Theo planted his feet flat on the floor, and Ben did too—feet next to Theo’s ribs—before leaning back against Theo’s raised knees, the angle making the crack of his ass a perfect groove for Theo’s dick to rock through.
Ben had told him in a least three languages that he wanted to fuck, needed to fuck—please baby, please—but the combination of complete darkness, the weight of Ben’s hot ass, and the muffled sound of music from the break room just yards beyond one locked door, sent Theo spinning. He pushed up, up, up, feeling his orgasm approach like someone switching on a light—instant, blinding, explosive.
He hung on to whatever came to hand while he shot. Papers shifted on the shelf he grabbed hold of, fluttering down around them.
Ben cursed, calling him a quick little shit. Then he laughed and shuffled on his knees until his cock nudged Theo’s chin. His ciao, bello had Theo laughing, then swiping blindly with his tongue. The sharp salty flavor of his man’s cock made him shift up onto his elbows, chasing the taste until Ben’s hands cupped both of his cheeks as he slid into Theo’s mouth.
The room filled with filthy, husky Milanese, and Theo loved it. He loved the smell of the man who had followed him all the way across the Atlantic Ocean with nothing but blind trust and a passport. He loved Ben’s hand yanking his hair just like he had the first night they were together, fucking like they’d been made to fit each other, and he loved the way he beg-demanded: In me, in me, in me.
Pulling off for a moment, Theo had slicked his own fingers, then pulled Ben’s cock to him again, licking, sucking, drooling some—not caring at all. He was mindless as his wet fingertips sought out where Ben would open to him, his head still reeling.
Every inch of skin that he mapped, tracing slowly and lovingly, was familiar. Theo didn’t need any light to know exactly where to touch, or exactly where to push in. His fingers pressed, slipped, slid into Ben, making him stammer and jerk. It had been Theo’s turn to choke until Ben’s fingers slipped through his hair, apologizing, demanding, soothing, and then tugging all over again.
Ben fucked Theo’s face slowly, keeping one hand on his cheek—he loved to feel where they were joined—while he alternately pushed back on Theo’s fingers, then slipped forward into his mouth again, bruising his lips. When he started to curse again, speeding up his hip thrusts, Theo pressed his fingers in as deeply as he could, feeling the spasm around his knuckles start before he tasted the bitter, metallic salt of Ben’s hot release.
Alone in his study in the home they had shared for nearly ten years, Theo shut his eyes and was back in the dark archive room with the man he didn’t want to let go. His hand stroked and pulled out his solitary orgasm, but it was a bittersweet and fleeting feeling, like trying to hold onto smoke.
Like trying to kiss a ghost.
He sat in the dark for a little while longer, then slowly dried his eyes.
After cleaning himself up, he turned on all the lights in the apartment. Every single one. Then he switched on the PC monitor and finished his e-mail to Peter.
He agreed that things would probably be fine, but just to be certain he would talk to the interns on Monday. He needed to be sure that Evan was okay; he owed that much to his father. Then he would talk to Joel, and he wouldn’t let himself be distracted. Distraction was one of Joel’s skills, but he had to learn to be professional.
If he couldn’t, Theo would have to let him go.
It was better, Theo wrote, to make sure that things were completely clear right from the outset. That way, expectations could be managed. While he was on the subject of expectations, Theo typed quickly, explaining that he’d had time to think about what happened between them—between him and Peter—and it probably wouldn’t happen again. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. He wrote that he hoped they could stay friends.
He wasn’t ready to let Ben go. He had no clue when he would be. Most of all, he didn’t want to.
Not now.
Not yet.
Theo pressed send, then turned out all the lights.
HE WAS crossing the street, heading back to his car after completing Saturday morning errands—dry clea
ning, groceries, post office—when a hand grabbed at his elbow from behind. If it hadn’t been for the cheerful “Mr. de Luca!” which accompanied the yank to his arm, Theo might have reacted physically. Instead, being called by Ben’s surname made him catch his breath.
He hadn’t been called Mr. de Luca for so long.
Too long.
As their years together passed they’d found it easier to avoid confusion—and Lordy, some people confused easily—by assuming each other’s surname from time to time. Ben was often home during the day, organizing the import business he ran with his brother via the Internet, so often dealt with deliveries or bureaucracy. He soon discovered that answering to “Mr. Anderson” made some transactions so much simpler.
Conversely, when they were out shopping together, the specialty store owners that Ben came to know so well grew to treat them like any other married couple. In Ben’s weekend world of herbs and spices they were known as the de Lucas. Secretly, Theo thought that Theo de Luca sounded so much better than boring and dependable Theo Anderson. Yes, to his thinking Theo de Luca sounded like a man of the world, and somewhat exotic. In reality, Theo Anderson was a middle manager for a Seattle-based company who had held variations of the same position—slowly advancing up the pay scale—for nearly fifteen years.
The only exotic thing he had ever managed was standing—transfixed—as almost certain death had hurtled toward him in the middle of a busy Milan street. He’d gone away on a rare spur-of-the-moment trip and came home with an amazing, beautiful creature who thought he made the sun rise and set. Dependable—boring even—on the outside, Theo de Luca was his other side: the dark side of his moon that he hadn’t even realized existed until Ben took over his life.
He turned to face the breathless man who still gripped his elbow, forcing a smile. Theo could almost predict what was going to happen next.
“Mr. de Luca! It’s so good to see you! Where have you been hiding?”
Theo shrugged and smiled a little, waiting for the next question.
“Where is the other Mr. de Luca today? We have the first pressing already; we’ve had it for weeks! We expected to see him long before now. I hope it was okay to set aside his usual order….”
Theo stared at the sidewalk and gritted his teeth momentarily. He guessed what was coming next.
“Is… is everything okay, Mr. de Luca?”
As Theo raised his eyes to meet those of the man who imported the extra-virgin olive oil that Ben used, he noticed his wife standing right behind him. He saw from her expression that she realized her husband had asked a difficult question. He nodded in gratitude as she pulled her husband away, explaining that there was a customer waiting on the store telephone, making an excuse to shuffle him away.
Sagging, wishing he’d just washed his own fucking shirts instead of calling into the dry cleaners, Theo walked blindly across First Avenue toward Cherry Street. His next stop was the bookshop to cancel their fucking incessant invitations to murder-mystery readings. That was Ben’s thing, not his. Finding out that the butler did it held zero interest for Theo.
He couldn’t count how many times he’d drifted off in movie theaters, or while watching terrible—in Theo’s opinion—amateur productions of Agatha Christie stories. He soon figured out that he didn’t really need to watch them at all, as Ben would recount every single plot point all the way home, sometimes even continuing while they were in bed.
Theo snapped once after unwittingly agreeing to watch a movie, only to find out that it was a more recent version of a DVD they’d watched just a few days before. The thought of sitting, surrounded by strangers, with all their candy-wrapper rustling and incessant coughing, after a too-long day at work, made Theo uncharacteristically tetchy.
He’d been unable to keep his temper to himself, hissing almost as he said, “For fuck’s sake Ben, you know what’s going to happen. You know!” He couldn’t bear to sit through the performance, stalking out instead to pace up and down the sidewalk outside the theater for what felt like hours. When Ben eventually came out, he went to hail a cab, then jumped with surprise when Theo put his hand on his shoulder. He’d hugged Theo quickly, scanning his face before asking, “What are you still doing here, tesoro? You must be chilled to the bone.” He hadn’t criticized Theo for leaving early or for spoiling his evening with his bad mood. While he drove them home, he apologized instead to Theo, explaining that he couldn’t resist the lure of a good story.
“But you knew what the ending would be. You knew they were all going to die.” Theo couldn’t get his head around Ben’s compulsion to revisit the same plot over and over again.
“Ah, we all die in the end.” Ben paused, struggling momentarily before continuing, eyebrows raised as he questioned his word choices. “But sometimes the cast is compelling enough to make living through loss—twice—worth it. Besides, different actors bring a little of themselves to their roles. It can still be a great story, even with unfamiliar faces, no?” Ben had looked across at Theo, his dark eyes shining—unbearably handsome.
“Think about it, baby. If you enjoy an experience once, why wouldn’t you want to feel the same way over and over and over? So what if you know how things will turn out? So what?” He’d banged the steering wheel with the heel of his palm before reaching over and squeezing Theo’s leg.
Theo remembered then how hot Ben’s palm had felt, even through the fabric of his pants. He’d shivered—it had been cold outside the theater—and Ben had driven a little faster. Later, in their steam-filled shower, Ben had kissed Theo, one soapy hand wrapping around his cock, stroking him to the straining point before backing away.
“Oh, so sorry! We both know what will happen if I continue. No point doing the same thing over and over….” His laugh had been muffled against Theo’s mouth.
Walking into the bookstore, which was full of different versions of similar mystery stories, Theo guessed that he still didn’t truly get it. He just knew that if he could live that evening again, he’d sit through the same movie without complaining, even though he knew what the end would bring.
He’d sit next to Ben and hold his hand if he could.
Or just look at his own de Luca for a while as he watched the show, face lit, dimples deepening with enjoyment.
Instead, he talked with the store clerk and had Ben’s name removed from their mailing list. Watching the cursor blink across the screen as his name was deleted was so much worse than sitting through the same movie twice.
So much worse.
THEO was exhausted by the time he returned home laden with dry cleaning and groceries. He fumbled awkwardly for his keys, then kicked the front door closed behind him with more force than usual. Dumping his load on the kitchen counter, he guessed that maybe a morning of explaining why he was canceling memberships wasn’t ever going to be fun. He’d known before he even left the apartment.
He told himself that it was for the best. The sooner he closed down these areas of their old life the sooner….
Theo slumped onto a stool.
He didn’t want to move on.
He didn’t.
He wouldn’t.
Not today.
Especially not today.
Eyes burning, he scanned the kitchen for something—anything—to focus on. The red blink of the answering machine had him reaching over the counter before he could get sucked into dwelling again. When he heard Maggie’s voice he called her back right away.
“Hey.”
That was all Maggie needed to hear. Theo listened to her sigh and mentally shook his head at himself. Maggie didn’t need a weekend dose of him on a downer. She’d already had more than enough of that at the office over the last year.
“Sorry, Mags. How are you? What can I help you with?”
“Maybe this isn’t a good time….” He heard the hesitation in her voice.
“Hit me with it.” Theo thought the day couldn’t go any further downhill.
“We’re buying a playhouse for Janie’s bi
rthday. Mike’s mom is watching the kids so we can go get it and then unload it into the garage without them seeing when we get home.” Theo had no clue what Maggie’s gift shopping had to do with him.
“Do you need me to pick up the kids later? They could come watch a DVD here. We could make popcorn.” Theo walked through to the living room, assigning new spots to fragile treasures Ben had brought back from their travels.
“It’s not that….” She hesitated, making Theo stop mid-relocation.
“What’s up, Maggie. Come on, spit it out already.” He was worried now. Maggie always said what she thought. Maybe she was worried about spending money on birthday gifts after all the job cuts.
“This playhouse is huge, Theo. It comes in lots of pieces, and it’s going to take up a lot of room in the garage. I’m sorry to ask you to move your stuff, but we really need the space.”
“No, no, it’s okay.” Theo slumped down onto the couch, hand in his hair.
Fuck.
He’d already liked Maggie a great deal before Ben died. She’d worked with him for a month, learning his little ways while he learned hers. After… well, afterward he’d relied on her without really realizing just how hard he’d leaned. She needed the storage space in her garage back. The space she hadn’t even discussed with him as she boxed up Ben’s clothes. The space that Theo had half forgotten he had taken up in her home.
Walking through their apartment, Theo gathered his keys and coat as he told his assistant that he’d be right over, telling himself that he might as well have a full day of shitty things to do. He’d been dreading the day for weeks anyhow; at least this gave it a focus. He stopped for a cup of coffee with her husband, Mike, while Maggie searched online for a shelter that might appreciate men’s clothing. Theo could just about cope with that idea. It wasn’t like he’d ever see anyone wearing Ben’s things, and he knew Ben would have freaked if Theo had thrown everything away.
Watching as she googled, then placed a call to a shelter on the other side of the city, Theo considered taking everything home with him. He could spend the evening folding soft sweaters and neatly paired socks back into the empty drawers that waited for them.
