After Ben

by Con Riley

  Maybe if he’d been less irritated by logistics like importing that fucking mirror from Milan—so old, tesoro, imagine all the lovers who looked into this same glass—he might have asked Morgan’s questions himself. If he’d shown more interest then maybe Ben would have asked him to come shop with him that very last time, instead of leaving him at home looking over columns of other people’s numbers. Worry had only just begun to nip at his ankles right before the cops arrived. Ben had been dead for hours already, alone.

  He held onto Morgan a little tighter. “I want us to be okay.” His voice sounded weird to his own ears. He pressed on through the high, tight feeling in his chest, determined to say things this time, pretty certain that after all of Morgan’s questions—online and in real life—he needed to hear things out loud. “I want us to be okay, so much, Morgan.”

  Morgan lowered his head and kissed him.

  JUST a few minutes later, the insistent ringing of a phone made Theo pull away, breathing hard. Fumbling in his pockets, he found his cell, switched it off without looking, and dumped it on the floor.

  “Might that have been important?” Morgan asked, smiling at Theo’s answer of, “Not more important than you.” He took the opportunity to pull Theo’s shirt the rest of the way off, having only partially removed it as they’d grabbed and twisted and humped their way horizontal onto the couch. Before the phone interrupted them, he hadn’t cared too much about stripping Theo completely. Once he had access to Theo’s stomach and chest, which he’d licked and kissed his way across with obvious pleasure, getting Theo’s shirt fully off hadn’t seemed that important. After their cell phone interruption Morgan pulled his shirt off too, throwing it behind him, knocking something from the coffee table.

  Neither of them looked to see what had fallen.

  Morgan shoved his sweats down. The way he held himself up on one arm—bicep and triceps taut—as he shimmied out of his clothes made Theo want to bite him. It was an increasingly hard urge to resist, because Morgan was edible.

  He’d thought that when Morgan had first leaned his dark-fuzzed head close, sharing chocolate-flavored kisses. Each lap of his tongue into his mouth made him hungry for more. Pretty soon he was stretched out under the man, legs apart, lifting his hips to get some relief. Theo watched Morgan strip, admiring his long, lean body, and the way his inky black hair emphasized his paleness, wanting to bite his shoulders, his neck, his belly.

  “What are you staring at?” Morgan asked, then ran his tongue from one of Theo’s nipples to the other, his rough-wet tongue making Theo shiver.

  “You.” He arched, feeling the dragging pull of Morgan’s suction at his chest all the way to his dick.

  “Yeah?” Morgan’s teeth were sharp, so sharp, his almost-bites just the right side of enjoyable.

  “Oh, yeah.” His hands were on Morgan’s head, pushing through his short, clipped hair, alternately feeling it as silk under his palms or as tickling prickles when he moved his hands. Morgan shifted up his body, lips deep pink and wet, kissing across his face, then slipped his tongue between Theo’s lips again, pushing deep. Theo sucked on Morgan’s tongue, just a little, just enough to make him thrust down, hips rolling. When he pulled back, telling Theo to get his fucking pants off already, looking pissed and so incredibly turned on, Theo couldn’t make himself move, certain that if he even grazed the fabric of his pants across his cock, he’d shoot.

  It was like being a teenager all over again, he thought. He’d felt the same when he hid in a corner of the dressing room during practice for the end-of-year play, still half-dressed in his costume while one of the seniors sucked hard on his neck. Theo had still been able to hear the drama coach’s shouted stage directions, as well as people walking up and down the hallway right outside the dressing room. The senior he was with had sucked on his Adam’s apple at the same time as he tightened his grip on Theo’s dick. When he’d shot—instantly, blinded like he was spotlit—the senior had whispered, “Damn, I’m good,” leaving them both breathless and laughing.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Theo.” Morgan’s hands were on him, fast and firm, dragging at his pants.

  “No, no, don’t touch me.” Scrambling on the leather couch cushion, hands slipping, Theo managed to get up, pushing Morgan down, switching places. “I’ll come right now if you do.” He dropped kisses over Morgan’s face, his throat, and all along his collarbones, tongue lapping the bulge of an old break. He sucked it a little while Morgan stilled, then relaxed under him. His long legs lifted, and Theo could feel the rub of Morgan’s thighs against his waist, his heels bumping his ass cheeks as Theo settled between his legs, bracing on his forearms. When Morgan shifted underneath him, Theo shuddered, skin prickling, feeling everything center toward his balls. He still felt far too much.

  Theo wriggled back, pulling up on his knees, hands sliding up the insides of Morgan’s legs. He shuffled closer, leaning in, burying his face in the crease between Morgan’s torso and thigh, breathing in deeply while pressing his palm against the inside of Morgan’s knee, opening him up wider. When he turned his face, sucking one of Morgan’s balls into his mouth, the “Oh, fuck” he heard was long and low. He moved to his other ball, licking the drawn-up skin, flicking it with his tongue while muffled curses rained down on him—Morgan had his forearm over his mouth, his whole body arched.

  Beautiful.

  Theo lifted his head, releasing a ball before licking—tongue flat, tasting as much skin as he could—up the length of Morgan’s cock. He groaned at the top, sucking the swollen, almost purple tip, tasting his sticky precome and loving it. Everything about Morgan tasted so good to him. He sucked around the firm circumference of his crown, running his tongue tip around it, making Morgan whine, both arms pressed across his face now, chest heaving. When Theo pulled off, he swore, threatening Theo, making him laugh.

  He moved back down to Morgan’s balls, cupping them in one hand while he shoved his own pants down, unable to resist the urge to touch, to grip, to jack himself quickly. Morgan’s swearing took on a frantic edge. They looked at each other then, black eyes meeting gray, cheeks flushed, mouths slack, both so close to coming.

  “Come on,” Morgan grunted. “Come on, come on, come on.”

  Theo licked up his cock again. This time Morgan held it up, knocking it against his cheek, his chin, his mouth, before Theo sank down, sucking, tongue pressing, lips tight. The noises Morgan made were obscene, glorious, making Theo shiver. Wriggling backward, cock still in his mouth, Theo lay down, braced on one forearm, the other sliding up Morgan’s lightly haired chest. He reached a little farther, fingertips sliding over Morgan’s licked-wet lips. When Morgan lifted his head, sucking his fingers in, teeth grazing his knuckles, Theo felt his own dick leak on the leather beneath him, slicking him.

  Slipping his fingers out slowly, feeling the ghost of a kiss on the pad of his index finger, he stopped blowing Morgan for a moment and shifted back a little. Morgan lifted his hips, swinging one leg over the back of the couch, hooking his hand around the inside of his other knee, exposing himself completely. Theo didn’t know where to look first. Every time his damp fingertips circled Morgan’s hole—learning the whirl of wrinkled skin, pressing, stroking, tap, tap, tapping—Morgan’s cock twitched, demanding attention. His own cock twitched too as he unconsciously humped in time to Morgan’s groans.

  Sucking his fingers quickly, wetting them more as he shifted to his knees again, Theo pressed one in as he bent over Morgan’s cock. Morgan’s initial tight resistance turned into a slow give as Theo pushed a finger in, then withdrew, over and over, until Morgan trembled, his torso tight with tension. Theo stroked Morgan’s dick a few times, firmly, then started to blow him properly—good and wet and as deep as he could manage—as he fingered Morgan deeper, feeling him quiver inside as his fingertip stroked.

  When Theo got Morgan deeply enough into his mouth to free up a hand, he jerked himself awkwardly, left-handedly, feeling Morgan clench around his finger, the grip incredible, his cock sh
oving toward the back of Theo’s throat as he suddenly came. Theo pulled off, back arching as he shot too, come spattering across Morgan’s balls, cock, and stomach, pooling with Morgan’s own as he finished, still spasming around Theo’s finger as he slowly withdrew.

  Breathing hard, swallowing traces of sharp, salty spunk, vision still spangled with inner light, Theo leaned forward, holding himself up as he pressed his cheek against Morgan’s, their scruff rasping together. He slowly sank down onto the sticky, relaxed body beneath him after Morgan lifted his leg—groaning—from the back of the couch and curved it around him instead, pressing him down, wrapping him up. They lay for a while, nuzzling and whispering.

  Morgan’s voice was rough. “When we finally fuck, I might actually pass out. That was so intense.”

  Theo nodded. Everything about Morgan was intense. Everything, from the way he questioned relentlessly, to the way he sometimes used silence like a corkscrew, black eyes fixed on Theo until his words twisted their way out whether he wanted them to or not.

  “You should be in porn.” His whisper made Theo shiver, his tongue tip on Theo’s ear raising goose bumps on his skin. “You looked amazing between my legs. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

  Theo felt an overwhelming urge to kiss Morgan, so he did. They kissed until they started shifting against each other again, semen sticking and pulling, taking them out of the moment, suddenly all elbows and clammy, cooling skin. He stole one last kiss, then swiped at their mess with some discarded sweats.

  Once he set Morgan up in the bathroom with towels and a spare toothbrush, Theo wandered back to the kitchen. The pizza box lay open, plates dumped near the sink, bottles lying on their sides nearby. He cleared everything away quickly, restoring order, then moved through his home, noticing that things were in the wrong spots in pretty much every room. The living room looked like a warzone, the coffee table covered in fallen objects, as if giants had started playing a crazy game of chess, then tipped the board, scattering their pawns.

  Clothes were heaped on both sides of the couch—its leather stained now with spunk and soap after Theo’s quick clean-up—and melted ice cream pooled across the cherry flooring. He wiped it up, dragging in a shuddering breath. Nothing looked as it had before.

  Nothing was the same.

  Morgan’s voice rang out loudly, shower-singing his contentment.

  Theo went to join him.

  Chapter 18

  “YOU’VE taken minimalism to a whole new level,” Theo said as he turned in a slow circle, looking around Morgan’s home. His voice sounded hollow, its volume absorbed by the space’s high, vaulted ceiling.

  “What did you say?” Morgan’s head poked out from a doorway along a narrow hallway at the far end of the living area. Theo crossed the room toward him, his footsteps on the bare floorboards sounding dull and heavy.

  “I said that it looks as if you follow the minimalist school of interior design.” Morgan’s bedroom wasn’t any different—the bedding plain, the walls bare. He turned his back on Theo, saying nothing in reply, continuing to haphazardly stuff a bag with clothes, leaving rejected shirts and pants hanging from drawers, and T-shirts discarded on the floor behind him.

  Morgan had been quiet for a while. The drive over had been awkward, with Theo finally realizing that he was essentially talking to himself the closer they got to Morgan’s address. They rode the elevator in complete silence. When Theo put his hand on Morgan’s shoulder as he unlocked his front door, he’d jumped, then shaken his head. Theo offered him a rain check, convinced that somewhere between Morgan’s low, “I don’t want to leave,” and his own whispered, “I don’t want you to go,” in bed that morning, the younger man had changed his mind.

  As Morgan pushed his door open, Theo said, “It’s okay if you want some time on your own. Really, it is. Maybe you could call me and we could get together later in the week?” He’d stood, shifting from side to side, staring at his feet as he waited in the apartment hallway.

  Morgan’s voice had been so warm in his ear. “You’re a terrible liar, Theo. It’s probably best if you don’t do that shit.” He pulled Theo into his apartment, pressed him up against the back of the door, and kissed him until Theo started to try to shove his jacket off. Morgan pushed Theo’s hands away, saying, “No, I just want to get out of here already,” and left him leaning against the door, multiple locks digging his back, dazed, breathless and half hard.

  He heard Morgan’s footsteps echoing as he moved around and followed the sound into the almost empty living space, asking what he could do to help.

  “Can you pack up my laptop? I’ll just be a minute.”

  Theo did that, finding it beside a recliner, its bag slung across the back, then waited, looking around. The apartment walls were mainly exposed brick, rough and rustic looking, while any paintwork was stark white and completely bare of art. Morgan had no photos, no personal looking items on the shelves; he could have just moved in. When he watched Morgan pack a few changes of clothes in his bedroom, Theo asked how long he had lived there.

  “Too long. I should have moved out already.” He stopped what he was doing, turning toward Theo. “Look, I’m not assuming that I’m moving in with you right now, Theo. I just mean I shouldn’t have stayed here on my own.” Theo nodded, smiling, backing out of the bedroom, leaving Morgan to finish packing. Of course, he’d lived here with his last boyfriend. That was why the place looked so bare. It was only half a home.

  Back in the main living area he spotted things he’d missed on first inspection: The mess of cable in the corner of the room with no corresponding electrical equipment, the open-plan kitchen that looked unused, and the half-empty coat hooks. When he looked a little closer, he could see that Morgan had hardly made an impression on the space. That seemed so strange to Theo. Morgan had been with him for only one day, and already he’d left his mark all over Theo’s home.

  Earlier, Theo had walked through his own apartment, setting it straight. Morgan didn’t seem capable of being left in a room without touching things, moving them, holding objects up to view them from a different angle. He left his shit everywhere too, like an infant who picked up a brand-new shiny toy, only to drop the one he held already. Add in his multiple wet towels and abandoned shoes and socks, and Theo was reminded of former roommates from his first years at college.

  He sat for a moment on the recliner near the window where he’d found Morgan’s laptop. An empty bottle of water stood on a side table, iPod earbud wires tangled around its base. Those few things were pretty much the only traces of Morgan that Theo could see. He had a perfect view down to the building entrance from where he sat, as well as of the apartment’s front door. He didn’t want Morgan to stay somewhere so barren, where he used to sit looking out for someone else to come home. He wanted Morgan at home with him.

  Theo listened, feeling a little weird as Morgan hunted, grumbling, for a toiletry bag, and to the clink of bottles being scooped up, wondering if Morgan felt the same about his place. Did he feel weird in a space that contained someone else’s life? Theo’s own apartment looked pretty much exactly the same as the day Ben walked out, shouting, “Ciao, baby.” If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the quick, warm press of lips to the back of his neck as he bent over his paperwork. He couldn’t remember if he even looked up. He couldn’t remember if he had said ciao in return. Sometimes not remembering was the hardest thing to live with.

  He stood quickly, needing to find Morgan, wanting to bring him home right away.

  The sound of muffled cursing led him to a storage closet. Morgan backed out, arms wrapped around a carton. He started when he bumped into Theo, apologizing, asking if it would be okay to bring the box with him also.

  “I just don’t want to leave this stuff here.”

  Theo nodded. Morgan could bring everything he owned as far as he was concerned. He’d said as much that morning, snorting laughter into Morgan’s sweat-damp neck after Morgan described himself as Theo’s imaginary midlife crisis.
Theo guessed his summary wasn’t that far from the truth, nor were Morgan’s following comments. He unpeeled himself from Theo, flopping down onto the mattress beside him, face and chest flushed beautifully.

  They lay quietly—recovering—heads turned toward each other. Morgan dragged in a huge breath, then reached over, running one finger along Theo’s jawline before saying, “You do realize that I don’t usually put out on the first date, right?” He smiled sweetly, eyelashes fluttering, and Theo had laughed—tickled—replying that he always did.

  It was true, he guessed. He listened as Morgan quietly and steadily told him just how crazy it was that they’d jumped right into sex, only hours after meeting. His stare was intense. “It is crazy, Theo. If someone started a debate about Internet relationships, I’d be first in line to tell them to expect the worst.”

  Theo wasn’t sure that was true. He was pretty certain that Morgan would weigh in on a thread like that telling other posters to shut the fuck up or walk a fucking mile before they started being judgmental.

  “I’m not sure what you would have made of my story. I didn’t even know Ben at all—we didn’t spend months wasting time on the Internet.” He winked. “I saw him once, just once, and I couldn’t really remember what my life had been about before then. He turned up at my hotel the same day he nearly killed me in the street, and we were hardly apart after that. He could have been a serial killer. It could have been a disaster. If I told that story on the Internet you would have called me a fucking idiot.”