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“WHY DID WE COME here?”
The crowd at the Sea Wolf Saloon was lacking in Ryan’s estimation. The celebration for having the offer accepted on their apartment had been delayed for three weeks. Ryan’s broken hand, Ben’s work schedule, and a million domestic necessities kept them from a night out picking up a trick. Two weeks until they closed on the apartment sale, and they’d come to a bar with no suitable prospects.
Pet Shop Boys’ “Before” thumped and bounced loud enough to cover conversation other than the nearest people. Ben leaned on his elbows against the bar.
“It was your idea to start as far away from the house as possible, so we had many bars to hit on the way back.”
Ben had worn the same jeans out cruising since college for good reason: they looked fantastic on him, accenting the firmness of his ass, the broadness of his thighs. His shirt, a button-up with wide lavender-and-white stripes, was unbuttoned low enough to draw Ryan’s eye from anything else on offer in this bar. If they weren’t set on finding another man to fuck, Ryan would happily sit here and show off that Ben was with him.
“Why did you let me talk you into coming to the Sea Wolf instead of going up to CC Attle’s? It’s dead here. Now I remember why we never come here.” This early, there were as many couples as singles. Not that it mattered, but a foursome was much harder to negotiate than a threesome and presented the huge risk that they’d end up with three tops and one bottom.
“Early still. But we can hit the next place if you want.”
“We’re already here. What about that guy?” Ryan pointed to a stocky brunet sitting alone at the end of the bar, smiling shyly at the bartender as he ordered.
“Isn’t that Neil? He was like the second or third guy we ever pulled together. I remember it as being pretty good.”
If they were going to start breaking rules about repeats, Ryan would call Dillon again. But the rules were firmly set and never deviated from. The rules worked; they were the hard conversation that made all this possible.
“Good enough to break our one-time only rule?”
As soon as Ryan asked, a broad-chested man with black hair came up behind Neil and wrapped his arms around him, kissing Neil’s neck before sitting down to order a drink.
“Never mind.”
They scanned the slightly growing crowd. If more people didn’t come in, they’d have to go back out into the early October chill and hit another of the half dozen bars between there and home.
“Oh, him?” Ryan nodded toward a dark-haired man, broad chested and well dressed in a cream oxford shirt and dark slacks, as if he’d come straight from the office. His hair failing across his forehead gave him a sweet, boyish charm, though he obviously worked out enough to compensate for that innocence.
“Not for me, but you should get his number for one-on-one when I’m not around.”
Ryan checked the guy again and stifled a laugh. It didn’t happen frequently, but when one of them rejected the other’s choice, often that choice was only one of their types. So yeah, this guy? Ben’s more muscular doppelganger if you squinted. Of course, Ben didn’t want to fuck him. Ryan never understood how those boyfriend twin couples managed. Didn’t it feel like vanity the entire time?
“Nah, if I want to fuck someone who looks like you, why go to the extra effort?”
“If you feel like you need the practice, I can go stand at the other end of the bar and pretend like we’ve never met.”
“Too easy. I already know how to seduce you.”
“Are you sure?” Ben winked at Ryan and turned back to scoping the crowd.
Ryan was sure, and it was too bad. Ryan crackled with a need to hold someone down who would beg Ryan to let him come. That Ryan immediately picked Analogue Ben wasn’t lost on him. He wanted Ben more than anything, but he needed another player to round out everything he wanted from tonight. Willing submission and Ben’s beautiful body didn’t come in the same package.
At least they’d have the morning together. It had been another long, busy week for Ben. The prospect of staying in bed together late tomorrow was as appealing as a threesome. In bed, Ryan wouldn’t be teased by the hint of Ben’s chest hair, but finally able to lazily run his fingers through it while Ben dozed.
“Do you have a hospice shift tomorrow?”
Ben’s attention switched back to Ryan from the room at large. “Yeah, at one. Why?”
Ryan wanted to make the most of the morning. “Was hoping to enjoy a lazy morning.”
Ben’s work schedule remained excruciating when combined with holiday chorus rehearsals and his usual hospice shifts. Ryan noticed less since, without sales commissions, he took as many shifts as possible at Nordstrom. There seemed no way out of this status quo, where a day off together was a treasure. So, Ryan awaited news from Steven, that he’d put together a job offer for Ben.
“I’ll make breakfast.” Ben offered this suggestively, as if breakfast in bed had the same reckless appeal as threesome sex. It was pretty close.
“I’d like that. Don’t forget we have Marcus’s thing at Thumper’s tomorrow night.” Ryan finished his beer. A second drink was out of the question if they were bringing someone else home. But how long would be spent cruising bars until they found that someone?
The music bumped louder again, making it harder to talk. Ben scanned the newcomers in the bar.
“What about that guy?” His mouth close to Ryan’s ear, Ben suggested an athletic-looking blond, in a pink tank top despite the autumn weather. Attractive in a bland way that didn’t do much for Ryan, but that was okay. The game was about whether a trick wanted to play, not whether Ryan might date him. But he certainly didn’t appeal like Ben’s doppelganger. Sometimes cruising was fun; tonight, it was an effort.
Ben smiled at the guy and half waved with his beer bottle. A move that felt awkward and gawky when Ryan did it, but was graceful and obvious from Ben.
The guy’s smile, full of uneven teeth, gave his face character that it lacked in repose. Ryan liked him better already. Better still, the guy raised his bottle back at Ben and made his way down the bar towards them.
“What are you girls doing tonight?” he asked.
His entire vibe grated. It wasn’t his flamboyant manner and speech; Ryan had plenty of fantastic nights with campy, femme guys. Still something about this guy...
“Looking to meet someone,” Ben said.
The blond turned his back, effectively cutting Ryan out of the conversation. “Mmm, honey, and what exactly are you looking for? Do I meet your needs?” He twisted his body to show it to better effect to Ben.
Ryan started to say no. Not because this guy tuned in only to Ben. No blame in being interested in Ben with his hair slightly tousled, the few dark curling hairs teasing out of his open shirt, enough to keep Ryan’s attention in a room full of other possible men. However, from experience, the guy’s attitude told Ryan this guy wasn’t what they wanted. But before Ryan replied, Ben spoke.
“We’re looking for a third tonight.” Ben shifted to include Ryan in the conversation.
The blond glanced over his shoulder at Ryan and flashed a sticky-sweet false smile. “Oh, not for me tonight, chile. I’m no rice queen. I’m a size queen. I’m a good bottom boy. I like my man hung, like I’m sure you are.” He ran a finger up Ben’s chest. “If you’re interested—”
“Bye.” Ben’s mouth set in a firm, disapproving line.
“Whatever for you, miss thing.” The blonde turned on his heel and stalked to the opposite end of the bar.
“Maybe CC Attle’s after all?”
The blond pointedly ignored them, but Ryan guessed from experience that the guy would have another drink and come back to be hostile.
“The fuck is wrong with people?” Ben shook his head in disgust.
Whenever they were out cruising, Ben was always more angered and hurt by people’s casual racism than Ryan, because Ben didn’t experience it before dating Ryan. Ryan ceased being angry about the racist and the ignorant to avoid that rage taking over his life, fearing it would bleed into his art. What good came from anger about things he’d never be able to control? Arguing with bitter queens about their so-called preferences always ended in white homos declaring they couldn’t be racist because they were gay. Their announcement of those preferences was a good way to weed out people Ryan definitely didn’t want to know.
“Forget it,” Ryan said. “He’s obviously not one for us. There’ll be others.” Ryan checked the possibilities against Ben’s appeal again. Going home was the best option. Ben never left him unsatisfied.
“Why are people so awful?” Ben asked again. “We’d have better luck picking random classifieds in the Seattle Gay News. At least then they tell you up front what they’re looking for.”
“Yes, we’d know right up front to discount any ‘GWM seeks Asian.’ Those guys all think Asians are submissive and femme. They are probably worse than what we just met.” Ryan saw the same problems in classifieds that he did in the bars. At least here, it was over quickly; no waiting for replies.
“The willing bottoms are straightforward about what they want.”
“Yeah, but when it comes to kink, they all want to be hurt. And I hate doing that beyond a little spanking.” Ryan thought of Dillon again. He didn’t want to break the rules with repeats necessarily, but Dillon had been easy. And wonderfully fun.
Ben finished his beer. “Yes, but those ones warn you upfront too. There was one ad the other day that looked good, but it’s probably too late to call now. Maybe I wasn’t even looking at this week’s issue.”
Ryan chuckled at the idea of Ben making notes from the paper for future threesomes. “What are you doing cruising the personals? Pretty sure you only have to come here alone and guys would swarm you. I should send you in as bait. You reel them in like you did with Dillon.” Their good luck with Dillon made Ryan want all other hookups to be smooth and easy.
“Not looking for anything. Just lunchtime reading. The Weekly wasn’t that interesting this week.”
“Maybe we could call that one guy who always advertises in The Weekly. ‘Bi white male seeking sincere partner.’”
Ben chuckled, the tension of their recent encounter clearing. “He’s always the only gay ad! Do you think he’s the same guy periodically seeking a sincere dominatrix? What does he think that means?”
“I’m sure he knows it when he sees it,” Ryan said. “But it’s likely the reason he advertises in The Weekly and not the Seattle Gay News. Closeted.”
“You’re probably right. ‘White male seeks same, discrete, sincere, slender.’ Discrete means don’t tell our wives. Can you be sincere and closeted?”
“Do you think we’re sincere enough for him?” Ryan appreciated Ben’s sincerity. Maybe more that night than usual.
Ben’s laugh rippled through him, pulling him closer to Ryan. “Definitely not discrete enough.”
“What do you want to do now? Around the corner to the Madison Pub?” More people were filing in, but Ryan got the sense everyone here was pink tank-top’s friend. Or maybe he assumed the crowd here would act the same. Maybe their early failure would be enough to convince Ben to go home early.
“We could go home.” Ben glanced at the crowd, matching Ryan’s disregard for it.
“Lots of bars to hit between here and home.” Ryan wanted to make sure Ben got what he wanted, but ever since Ryan broke his hand, sex had been slow and careful—until Ryan wanted to scream. Or make someone else scream enough that he’d convinced Ben to cruise for a threesome. But now Ryan was torn between wanting to find a guy submissive enough and not wanting to deal with the hassle of hunting.
“No. I mean, do we need a third tonight?” Ben asked, relieving Ryan of being the one to say it.
It wasn’t the first time that encounters with jerks put one of them off their plans. That night, happy with only Ben, Ryan didn’t completely trust himself. The day he broke his hand, he’d finally understood that Hector hadn’t dropped him because Ryan had expressed his desires. Perhaps Ben wouldn’t reject Ryan’s desires—complete honesty between them would be good.
However, right now, it seemed safer to exercise those desires with a third until he was certain of how Ben might respond. Maybe when they celebrated closing on the apartment in two weeks, he’d feel secure and steady enough to christen home ownership with a fresh understanding between them. And maybe Ben would have a surprise new job by then, relieving additional pressures. Until then, Ryan intended do his best to keep from picturing Ben stretched beneath him, flushed face and chest, sweaty and disheveled, limp and satisfied.
“I’m sure you can find a way to make me come until I cry,” Ben said.
Ryan’s eyes snapped open. “What?”
“I said, I’m sure we can find a guy to take home tonight.”
“Maybe you’re right, that we don’t need a third tonight. Or maybe that blond guy glaring at us is putting me off,” Ryan said.
Ben’s smile was positively lascivious. “Want to go home and make our own fun?”
“Those open buttons have been teasing me all night. I want to rip your shirt open so I can see more.”
Ben dug the car keys out of his jeans. “I’ve been thinking all night that you don’t wear those jeans enough. Maybe you should walk in front of me on the way to the car, so I can enjoy the view before I strip them off you.”
Ryan obliged. The prospect of teasing Ben appealed more than a willing stranger begging for Ryan’s dick.
All of blondie’s friends glared as Ben and Ryan passed the end of the bar. Ryan smiled sweetly at them, satisfied with taking home the best guy in the bar tonight.
◊
Despite the early October chill, Ben rolled up his sleeves when they got in the car. As he switched between the steering wheel and the gear shift, the muscles in his forearms flexed, similar to the way Ben stretched his legs and flexed his toes when he was about to come.
At the stoplight at Broadway and Pine street, Ryan trailed his hand up Ben’s thigh to the join at his hip. He held still when the car was in motion, tension vibrating between them as Ryan stayed centimeters from touching Ben’s dick.
Eyes forward at every stoplight, Ben shifted and wiggled, moving his dick toward Ryan’s hand. After he parked, they raced across the courtyard and up the stairs, abandoning shoes and coats in the hallway inside the apartment.
In the bedroom, Ryan unbuttoned and slipped off Ben’s shirt. “I spent the whole evening teased by those two buttons open on your shirt. I’ve been considering what to do— ” he backed Ben against the door while he unfastened Ben’s jeans “—once I got it off you.”
Ben ran a finger along his own collarbone, watching Ryan, eyes half closed.
Ryan stepped back and tugged the hem of his t-shirt. “Now that I can see what those buttons teased at, I better investigate further.” Ryan dropped his t-shirt on the floor.
“My pants don’t seem to want to stay up. Can you investigate that first?” Ben turned sideways, displaying how his undone jeans hung on the curve at the top of his ass, ready to slip down with a quick tip of his hips.
“Hmm, this undone zipper might be the cause.” Ryan’s hands dipped under the waistband and pushed down until the jeans pooled at Ben’s ankles. “Oops, I didn’t manage to keep them up.”
“Yours seem quite firmly in place. Maybe I should check to see what’s different here.” Ben fumbled with the buttons on the fly of Ryan’s jeans. “What happens if I twist this?”
Ben dropped to his knees to pull Ryan’s jeans the rest of the way down. He came up slowly, kissing the back of Ryan’s thigh, his right cheek, then his tailbone, the curve of his lower back, between his shoulder blades.
“Sorry we didn’t pick up a trick. Maybe I can make it up to you?” Ben’s tender whisper, ripe with the promise of something rougher, tickled across Ryan’s back.
The sensation, the deliberateness of it, Ryan could easily imagine it as worship, and his dick responded accordingly.
“Bed.”
As he passed it, Ryan cracked the window against the over-exuberant old steam radiator that never went off when it should.
Ben stretched on the bed, hands behind his head, and Ryan climbed up his body, their mouths meeting in the first true passion they’d shared in days. Ryan fell into it when Ben pulled him close. Ben’s fingers twisted into Ryan’s hair as he brought their mouths together. Supple lips, slick teeth, their tongues slid together. Ben’s touch made Ryan tingle and shiver. Like tiny stars bursting on his skin.
One of the many pleasures of having an open relationship was the variety of bodies and men that Ryan got to see, touch, and enjoy. But Ben remained the most perfect. Thicker than Ryan, solid in a way that Ryan marveled at when touching Ben’s warm skin, appreciating the hardness of his muscles under it.
Ryan’s hands glided over heated skin. He licked taut stomach muscles, tasting the warm salt of Ben’s skin. He investigated the hard planes of Ben’s abdomen with his lips. He bit and sucked his way along Ben’s hipbones, holding him tightly while Ben writhed. Ryan leaned so close that the dark curls of hair snaking down from Ben’s belly button tickled his nose.
Ryan settled between Ben’s legs, licking up the length of Ben’s half-hard cock as he did. Long, strong fingers ran over his head, gripping his shoulders. The taste of Ben’s cock, the texture of it, familiar and new every time; Ryan’s own excitement making novelty of something he’d done hundreds of times. He closed his mouth around the head and pressed his tongue hard back against it, rewarded by hearing his name drawled long, frayed, and tattered with need.
Ben’s gasp was the reward Ryan sought. Ben pushed his hips up toward Ryan, who pressed them back down against the bed and followed, swallowing Ben’s needy cock. Ben’s fingers curled against Ryan’s skull. Ryan grabbed Ben’s wrist and pulled it aside, trapping Ben’s hand against his own hip, and holding it there while he took Ben all the way into his throat. Ben bucked up and cried out.
It was precariously close to the kinky way they played with one-night stands. Ryan released Ben’s wrist, blood rushing to his face at the reminder to tamp his desire for domination. Perhaps they should have found a surrogate for Ryan’s needs after all.
Ryan teased under the head of Ben’s cock, where Ben was most sensitive before sucking him down again.
Even with his new revelation of what went down with Hector, Ryan hadn’t been able to psych himself up to change his behavior. It weighed heavily, not giving Ben the intimacy he needed: those three little words. Not afraid of the intimacy of it; however, Ryan saw now how it went hand in hand with what he wanted from Ben.
Love wasn’t transactional; it was something freely given. But a relationship was different. With too much time to contemplate it these weeks while he wasn’t painting, Ryan now believed that to sustain a relationship, he needed a return on the trust he gave. A power exchange, though not strictly in the BDSM sense.
To tell Ben he loved him would expose Ryan’s vulnerability enough to ask for Ben’s submission. And if Ben gave it only because Ryan asked, and not out of true desire, would Ben come to resent it the way Eli had?
Ben pushed at Ryan’s shoulder with his free hand. “You’re going to make me come too soon. Slower.” The syllables were split by ragged panting.
Ryan sat back, wiping his arm across his wet mouth. Ben never begged Ryan to top him, to take control, but debauched as he looked now, it was hard not to wish for it. Plenty of people had hard deal-breakers in their relationships. Ben helped set their rules around sex, rules that kept Ben on top, not submissive at all. Asking for what Ben wasn’t ready to give could drive a wedge into their relationship. What Ryan wanted only mattered if it was something he could have.
Ben struggled to sit up, but Ryan leaned down against him, sealing their mouths together. Ryan’s erection slipped in his own saliva along Ben’s cock. Ben arched up to rub back against Ryan.
Between their bodies, Ben closed his hand around Ryan’s erection. Ryan thrust up into it, distracted by the pleasure of Ben’s touch before he recalled how to kiss. Enveloped in the rush of the kiss, Ryan’s chest swelled to bursting with longing, hollow with need. The rough, achingly sweet kiss wasn’t enough.
“Want to fuck you,” Ben whispered.
Ryan’s heartbeat doubled. He locked away thoughts of what he couldn’t have and focused on making Ben feel good. He wriggled back down to kneel between Ben’s thighs, spit in his hand. He wrapped it around Ben’s erection.
Jacking Ben slowly, then faster, Ryan listened to Ben’s breathing, pressing a palm to his chest. Ben’s heart raced. Sensing how close Ben was, Ryan drew it out, keeping Ben on the brink. Ryan adjusted until his hand fit around both their cocks, squeezing them together. Ben ground his hips, and pleasure rolled through Ryan like pounding surf. Ben’s kiss demanded satisfaction, urged Ryan on, and still Ryan needed more from Ben.
Ben cried out and bit down along Ryan’s neck with ferocity. A thunderstorm. Ryan arched and pressed into every bit of contact. Ben’s mouth was liquid fire, stoking Ryan’s desire to take control. The need to see Ben fall apart under his ministrations was breaking Ryan’s own control.
Sitting back on his haunches, Ryan wiped the pooling pre-come off Ben’s stomach. He pressed for entry at Ben’s lips. Ben opened and sucked Ryan’s fingers. Ryan descended lower, pinching wet fingers on Ben’s nipples, licking wet lines through the tangle curls on Ben’s chest and abdomen.
Ryan grabbed the lube and condoms and messily did his best to prep his own ass as he slowly sucked Ben, whose hips rolled up, needing more than a tentative touch and light suck, whimpering when Ryan stopped altogether.
“Feel good?”
“Fuck yes. Why did you stop?” Ben’s cock stood nearly upright.
Ryan slicked lube on Ben’s dick before sliding on the condom, then making a slippery mess of the condom before he straddled Ben’s hips.
“Is this what you want?”
“Fuck yes.” Ben was breathless with need, the words more air than sound.
His grip firm on Ben’s dick, Ryan spread his knees wider and lowered himself down. The blunt pressure at his entrance was easy. He pushed back against Ben until his internal muscles relaxed enough to let Ben enter, pausing to let them both catch their breath.
Ben stared up in awe, pupils blown wide, mouth red and wet. Sweat glistened in the curls on Ben’s chest. Gorgeous, like something to be devoured. Honey candy that would melt away under Ryan’s need. Dissolve until nothing existed but the bond between them.
Ryan shoved the rest of the way down, wincing, so full it altered every part of his body, as if his nerves misfired and reconnected, spreading the strange sensation of holding Ben inside. The heat was intense, from his body and Ben’s. Ryan rotated his hips.
Ben groaned, gripped Ryan’s hips to slow him down, but Ryan batted his hands away again.
“Please—”
The phone’s ring jangled up Ryan’s spine. Ben bucked against him.
“Fuck.” Ben’s hips twisted, Ryan folded over him, rolling with him as Ben stretched for the phone.
“Don’t fucking answer it.”
“It’s the middle of the night. Hello,” Ben said into the phone. “No, you have the wrong number. Sure, buddy. Fuck, Fuck!”
Cold water hit Ryan’s shoulder. He jerked back. Ben pulled free from his body, leaving a disappointingly empty ache. Ryan crawled off the bed and stood up, trying to figure out what happened.
“Can you get a towel?” Ben hung up the cordless phone and set the empty water glass back on the night stand.
By the time Ryan dried water and laid a clean towel over the spot on the bed, his erection was gone. But that didn’t deter Ben from pulling Ryan down on to the dry side of the bed.
“Now, where were we?” Ben’s words tickled Ryan’s lips.
Grinding his hips against Ryan, Ben wrapped his arms around him and tumbled them until Ryan was beneath him, his knees pressing outside Ryan’s hips.
“Got you where I want you.”
Ben slipped lower and worked a slow rhythm on Ryan’s cock, down fast and slowly back up. The cool air from the open window heightened the wet heat of Ben’s mouth on Ryan’s cock. Ben worked his hand in counterpoint to his mouth; he squeezed and stroked Ryan’s spit-slick cock to fill the void of his mouth moving off.
Thrusting into the silken, slippery heat, Ryan’s chest hollow with unfulfilled need, his cock only half hard. Each sweet stroke of Ben’s mouth was like falling, reaching, a hand closed on nothing. Perfect and sweet, it should have been enough, but was the spilled water a sign? Stopping Ryan before he crossed a line with Ben? Worry prevented Ryan’s erection from returning with Ben’s sweet sucking. Ben on the brink, Ben moaning for him. On this night, nothing would be enough.
“Come kiss me,” he whispered to Ben, tugging his shoulders up.
“Okay?”
Close enough to see Ben’s creased brow, Ryan tried to laugh it off. What more he wanted from Ben wouldn’t stop Ryan from enjoying what he had with Ben. “Nothing like cold water to kill the moment.” Ben’s erection pressed insistently against this thigh. “Hmmm, what is this huge issue you seem to have? “
Ryan grazed his teeth across the muscle along Ben’s shoulder. Pushing Ben back, Ryan crawled over him again and leaned down, his weight on his elbows as he found Ben’s nipple and worried it with his teeth. Ben cried out and arched up as Ryan kissed the little bites away. The response was too delicious to ignore. Ryan switched to the other nipple, rebalancing to splay his hand on Ben’s ribs. Ryan’s cock hardened in interest as Ben arched up again.
Ryan mapped the faint grid of muscle under a tangle of dark hair on Ben’s torso with his tongue. He bit and sucked his way over Ben’s hipbones. Ben squirmed. Ryan’s dick pulsed, matching Ben’s need.
Ryan closed his mouth over the head of Ben’s cock, taking it all the way into his throat. The back of Ben’s hand brushed Ryan’s forehead. Ben palmed circles on his own belly before tracing his fingers up the base of his dick until they touched Ryan’s lips.
Tracing Ryan’s face, then back to his own cock, Ben wedged his hand down farther to cup his balls while Ryan sucked. Ryan pulled back, teasing the crown with his tongue and sucking hard there, trying to get a glimpse of Ben touching himself. He slid his hand down over Ben’s and squeezed, timing the pressure on the head of Ben’s cock with the gentle squeeze of his balls. Ben bucked up and cried out, coming hard in Ryan’s mouth.
Ryan climbed up to catch Ben’s final moan, to kiss it away. He clutched his erection, stroking and shoving it against the yielding, slick wetness of Ben’s shrinking dick. He didn’t second-guess his fantasy when Ben’s hand closed around his and jerked him harder. Ryan let the vision fill his mind: Ben, arms stretched up, clutching the bottom rail of the headboard, his legs spread wide, dick so hard it curved away from his belly, but leaked a clear pool next to his navel. The Ben in his mind spoke, voice trembling with desire: Please fuck me, please, I need you to make me come. I can’t until you tell me. Please let me come.
Ryan’s orgasm came on shockingly fast, pulling through him like torn silk.
Ben’s hand relaxed, cupping Ryan’s cock like a precious thing, letting Ryan ride out the last wave. Ben’s voice rumbled along Ryan’s spine as he pulled Ryan to him.
“Was it everything you hoped for? It wasn’t what we planned for the night.”
“You’re always enough for me,” Ryan answered. But regret buzzed at the edges of his post-orgasmic bliss. The fluttering dark edges of the intense fantasy of dominating Ben worried Ryan, that he couldn’t bury that desire, keep it safely imaginary.
Ryan curled against Ben’s side, his hand possessively cupping Ben’s soft cock. He sank into sleep memorizing the way Ben gazed at him before a ringing phone and a douse of cold water turned everything sideways.