Chapter Three

 

 

 

Tuesday evening, John sat in Dr. Hannah’s office and stared at his hands.

“Is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss today, John?” she asked in that soothing voice she used when he was upset.

John didn’t look up as he answered, “I’ve had a lot on my mind, and I’m not sure if I’m okay.” If his medicine was failing or if he was just in a funk.

“John, we’ve discussed the medicine. It isn’t a cure-all.”

He glanced up and she gave him an encouraging smile.

“Has something happened?” she asked.

Sighing was becoming a habit. John slid his palms over his thighs, wiping away the sweat from his skin. “Yeah, I guess. There was this incident, and it’s stupid and weird, but it’s bugging me. Making me question everything I’ve been telling myself about my personal life.”

Dr. Hannah hummed and jotted something down on the pad she always took notes on. John wondered if it said something along the lines of, ‘hopeless head case’ or ‘it’s about time’. Maybe she was simply drawing squiggly lines so it looked like she was paying attention.

“I thought it was best for me to stay away from clubs, and the whole dating scene for a while,” he said when he couldn’t stand the silence or the way Dr. Hannah watched him expectantly. “I mean, I told you how I screwed around with everyone willing, before. I’m lucky I didn’t catch something even with condom use. Nothing’s fool-proof, especially with the risks I took.” Rough sex, strangers, lube as an option, sucking down more cocks than he could remember. John had been out of control. He hadn’t even enjoyed most of what he’d done.

“It was your way of seeking validation, and feeling wanted,” Dr. Hannah murmured, repeating John’s own explanations. “Yes, and I agreed that taking a step back, finding yourself and making peace with yourself, learning to love yourself was a necessary step to a better life.” She wrote something else down. “And is there a problem with that now? Has it interfered with you having a social life?”

Considering John had no social life… “I suppose it is. See, here’s what happened a couple of days ago.” John told her about Benji and the odd confrontation that had occurred. “I still think he seriously overstepped the line more than once. It was like he had no filters, you know.”

She nodded. “Hmm. Sounds like perhaps he was pushing, either to get a reaction or because he has, hmm, quirks or issues. Without meeting with him, I couldn’t say, but he does sound different. Is there any chance he was perhaps high or intoxicated?”

John sat back and frowned. “I didn’t even think—but he acted weird. His eyes were really dark, almost black. It could have been that his pupils were expanded instead of the iris being so dark.” He tried to recall anything else that might point to Benji having been chemically enhanced. “I just don’t know him, so I can’t say if his behavior was normal for him.” It still seemed abnormal, period.

“But he made you question your decision to remain alone for a while?” Dr. Hannah clarified.

“Yes.” John swiped at a chunk of hair that flopped onto his brow. “And I think I’ve gotten kind of snobby about it, you know? Like I’m above all the screwing around in back rooms and alleys, and that makes me better than the people who do it. But it doesn’t. I’ve been there and done that, and I don’t like the idea of being such a stuck-up ass.”

“Then don’t be,” she said. “That’s simple enough. We are all people, all here to learn and love and, I like to believe, to help one another. Judging others may make us feel better about ourselves, but in the long run, it’s detrimental because it’s a cover for our own insecurities and an excuse to keep people at a distance. We hurt ourselves more than those we judge.”

“Right.” So he was an ass. “I guess the thing to do is to start dating again. The very idea of trying to meet people to date scares me.”

“Why is that?”

John snorted and tapped his head. “Because of this. What happens when a guy I like finds out I might crash and spend six months barely functioning, getting out of bed and dragging my ass to work, then home again with no desire to do anything else?”

Dr. Hannah cocked one finely arched eyebrow at him and asked, “Well, what is it that you do now besides work?”

John was stumped for an answer at first, because he saw it then—while he wasn’t in a state of depression, he was surely still in a rut as if he had been. “I went camping with Henry this weekend,” he blurted out, as if that eradicated the routine he followed. “And I have dinner with my family on Wednesdays.”

“Okay, that’s something at least.” Another note was written. “This is the same Henry who called my office yesterday and used your name as a reference, correct?”

“Yes, I guess.”

She nodded. “Thank you for that. I hope to help him. However, as far as I can tell, your routine now is much the same as it was when you had your last bout of depression. Now”—she took off her glasses and steepled her fingers together beneath her chin—“I’m not advising anything wild—no clubbing and hooking up with strangers—but it might be a good idea to step out of the comfort zone you’ve built for yourself. There are several dating events in San Antonio, casual ways for people to meet. You’ve heard of speed dating, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t know that it’s for me,” John told her.

“But you don’t know that it’s not,” she pointed out. “For all you know, you might enjoy meeting many different men that way. All casual, no hooking up, just a few minutes to see if you might be compatible with someone else.”

John didn’t see how a few minutes could give him an answer to that. He thought it would take time and many conversations to be sure—but Dr. Hannah wasn’t talking about being sure, she was suggesting only possibilities. John tried to keep his mind open as she listed groups and events he might be interested in.

“All of these that I’ve talked about, I wrote down for you.” Dr. Hannah tore off a sheet from her notes. “There is no pressure, but having options might help. And, John, there’s nothing wrong with you having taken the past two years to work on yourself. Someone will really appreciate that someday, when he’s spending the rest of his life with you.”

John blushed and took the paper from Dr. Hannah. “Thank you.” He stood and said goodbye before returning to the waiting room. Once he’d taken care of his co-pay and scheduled a routine check-in appointment for a month later, John left, feeling somewhat better about everything.

He didn’t have to be a judgmental prick. In fact, he didn’t have to be a prick at all. That also didn’t mean he had to fuck around just because he could. There was nothing wrong with valuing himself and wanting someone else to do the same.

Taco Cabana’s pink building caught his eye and John drove over to the Mexican food restaurant. He didn’t indulge often, because he could eat his weight in Mexican food. Today he wanted a treat, though.

The line at the drive-thru was blessedly short, and he placed his order for sweet tea, fajita tacos and sopapillas, his mouth watering as he imagined biting into the sweet treats. There were hundreds, possibly thousands, of Mexican food places in San Antonio, and some of them were just amazing. However, Taco Cabana was his favorite for fast food.

The drive home seemed longer than it was, thanks to the delicious scent of his dinner beside him. John parked and unbuckled, then he grabbed his drink and the bag of food. He got out and strode quickly across the parking lot. He paused in front of the entrance to switch the bag to his other hand so he could get the apartment lobby door when it was flung open from the inside.

“Oh!” John took a startled step back then froze as he stared at Benji. “Um.” Jesus, what do I say? “Hi?”

Benji wasn’t quite looking at him, but John was fairly certain he knew who was standing there. “Hi.” Then Benji did look at him, just a quick glance that conveyed embarrassment and something else that John couldn’t decipher. Benji bit his bottom lip and stepped back, still holding the door open. “Do you think I could talk to you for a minute?”

John thought of his hot sopapillas. The tacos he could warm up, but the tasty, doughy treats were best eaten fresh. He usually ate them before whatever he’d bought as a meal. Still, they were only a couple of bucks and Benji’s feelings were worth more than that, even if he was prone to bursts of anger. “Yeah, okay. Come on up. I take the stairs.”

Benji gave a tentative smile that seemed a bit wobbly, but he nodded and once John was inside, followed him wordlessly. John tried not to think about being in a stairwell with someone who’d been so moody and angry a couple of days prior. Benji must have known he was uncomfortable, because he was very quiet as they walked to stairs. Benji went in first, bounding up the steps.

John almost swallowed his tongue when he saw Benji’s cute ass flexing and bouncing as Benji jogged up the stairs. His mouth went dry and he clenched his drink so hard the lid popped off. Benji didn’t seem to hear it over his footfalls on the steps. John managed to pick up the lid without looking away from Benji’s denim-clad derrière for long.

How anyone could wear jeans so tight and still move like that was beyond John. He took the stairs more slowly, losing sight of Benji at each turn of the stairwell. Benji waited for him at the exit to the third floor, panting a little.

“I’m not used to that,” Benji mumbled, sweat glistening on his forehead and above his top lip.

John grunted, because he didn’t really know what to say. Agreeing seemed like a way to get his head snapped off. He left the stairwell with Benji following him. John’s apartment wasn’t but a few yards away.

“Want me to hold something for you?” Benji offered when they stopped at number three-sixteen.

John handed him the drink then slotted the key in the lock. The awkwardness of the situation made the back of his neck itch, and he peeked at Benji. Maybe he should try being polite? “How’ve you been?”

Benji didn’t answer and John looked fully at him. Benji’s eyes really were dark brown, the pupils barely discernible from the irises. That didn’t really disprove anything, because John hadn’t paid enough attention to Benji’s eyes on Sunday to know if his pupils had been blown.

“Can I do the whole apologizing thing inside? Please,” Benji added before John could answer. “I’d like to try again.”

Try what, John wanted to ask, but being the kind of dick Benji had accused him of being wasn’t a very noble goal. “Sure. Come on inside, then. You can have some of my sopapillas.”

“Ohhh,” Benji moaned. “I love those! Did you get some of the dulce de leche dipping sauce?” He batted his long lashes at John and John decided that the man was just a flirt, and there was nothing wrong with that, he reminded himself. Some people were naturally more outgoing than he was. A lot of people are.

“Yeah, I did. After you.” He let Benji enter first, then he followed and shut the door. “Just set my tea on the table, please. If you want a soda or water, there’s some on the fridge, but I don’t have any tea.”

“No beer?” Benji asked, setting the tea down.

“No.” John wasn’t going to feel guilty for his caution about alcoholic beverages. He’d used them to escape his depression, or had tried to, too often to have them in his home.

“Huh. Okay.” Benji looked at him for a second then moved over to the fridge and opened it. “I like this kind of water. It’s got a sweet taste to it.”

John murmured an agreement as he put the bag down and fetched some paper plates. Might as well split dinner with him. It wasn’t going to hurt John to have half the calories he’d intended on ingesting.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Benji stopped at the table and shook his head. “Really, especially after I was such an asshole the other day.” He glanced at John. “Why would you be that nice to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” John retorted. “It wasn’t like you hit me or anything.”

Benji shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense to me. People can hurt you plenty without physically hitting you.”

“Yeah, they can,” John agreed. He sat down and pulled the tacos out of the bag, along with the hot sauce. “Are you going to stand there, or do you wanna sit?”

Benji pulled out a chair and sat down. He toyed with the edge of his paper plate—John couldn’t help but see even though he was trying not to watch Benji. There was just something about the guy that caught his attention. Something other than that bubble butt he had.

“I do want to apologize,” Benji began.

John gave him his full attention and Benji continued.

“I do tend to overstep, and I’m pushy and loud and obnoxious,” Benji rushed out. “And it’s worse when I’ve had a few drinks, so maybe it’s best that you didn’t have any beer, really. I am sorry for being an asshole Sunday.” Benji hitched one shoulder. “I do think you’re pretty hot in this controlled, ‘I don’t make mistakes’ sort of way. Don’t know that I could handle it in a relationship, but maybe we could get off together?”

It was on the tip of John’s tongue to point out he hadn’t mentioned being interested in a relationship with Benji, but he refrained. Partially because he didn’t want to argue with the guy, and he figured that was what would happen if he did speak up. Benji’s apology seemed sincere enough, but John noticed he didn’t seem to be a whole lot different sober than he was drunk, if that’s what Benji had been on Sunday. There was still an almost confrontational air about Benji.

“It’s okay. I could have handled things better myself,” John finally said. Benji seemed to relax, that combative part of him vanishing, at least in John’s opinion. “Here, have some.” He set half of the sopapillas on Benji’s plate. Benji opened the small containers that held the dulce de leche and honey. John hoped he wouldn’t bring up the part about them getting off together, because his dick had perked up when Benji had mentioned it.

What would it be like to fuck that sweet ass? No, he didn’t need to know the answer to that. Didn’t need to, but he wanted to.

Benji dipped a sopapilla into the creamy sauce and moaned when he took a bite of it. “Oh my God, so good,” Benji said around a mouthful of the treat. He closed his eyes and moaned again. There was a dab of the sauce on his lip, and it took all of John’s self-control not to lean over and lick it off. He almost whimpered when Benji licked it clean.

Benji opened his eyes just a little and looked at John. “So what do you say about getting off together? No strings, nothing but feeling good and coming until we can’t move?” He leaned forward and put a hand on John’s arm, squeezing the muscles there. “I know you stared at my ass when I was going up the stairs, that’s why I wanted to go first. I could feel you watching me.”

Would it really hurt anything? John was so hard his gut was aching. It’d been over two years since anyone other than himself had touched him in more than a friendly or familial manner.

“It’s okay to say no.” Benji stood and jutted his hips, the swell of his cock beneath his tight jeans unmissable. “But I don’t think you want to say no. I think you want me to get on my knees and suck you until you come. That’s okay, I want that, too. You don’t even have to suck me back.”

“Oh, God,” John rasped, his sopapillas forgotten as he imagined Benji kneeling and blowing him. “Yes, please,” he got out before his brain could decide anything for him.

Benji bent and brushed a sloppy, wet kiss over his lips, then he was crawling under the table. John scooted his chair back enough to give Benji some room. His hands shook and his chest was so tight with nerves he could hardly breathe as Benji got between his knees.

“Lift your butt up for me,” Benji whispered, his eyes piercing John’s with a hot look before he glanced away.

John was so tangled up in his body’s need that he couldn’t do anything but what Benji told him to. He canted his hips and Benji reached for his belt. In seconds, Benji had John’s cock and balls freed.

“Nice,” Benji murmured, stroking his length slowly. “Thick. I bet this would feel so good in my ass.” He flicked a glance up at John then went back to watching his hands. “It’s going to stretch my mouth, make me ache. I don’t know if I can take it into my throat—”

John moaned then, and closed his eyes. He was going to come and embarrass the heck out of himself if Benji kept it up. The touching alone was pushing him to the edge, but add in the talking and he was in real danger of shooting off already.

John swallowed his pride as he gripped the sides of his chair. “Please,” he begged. “Please, suck me.”

Benji didn’t torture him any longer. John’s tip was engulfed in silky, wet heat that had him crying out. He wanted to watch, but couldn’t keep his eyes open as pleasure spiraled through him, spreading out from his cock to every part of his body.

Benji sucked strongly on the head, and palmed John’s balls in his hands. John’s legs quivered and he tried to control his body, but Benji took in more of his cock, tonguing and sucking with a skill that John ever remembered experiencing.

His knuckles ached from the force of his grip on the chair, but if he let go, he feared he’d grab Benji’s head and slam him down on his cock. He’d fuck his mouth and push into that tight throat, spill his load—

“Condom,” John all but yelped, trying suddenly to push Benji away. He was lucky he didn’t get bitten or have his balls pulled painfully. Benji let him go without resistance, and glowered at him.

“Seriously? For a blow job? I wasn’t going to swallow.”

John shook his head. Benji had to know better than that—but why should he? How many guys had John sucked off without protection? The risk might be small, but it was still there, still real. “You’re worth more than that,” John said, leaning until he could trace the outline of Benji’s lips. He hoped the touch would soothe the anger he could see brewing in the man. “You deserve to have your lover, or whoever you’re getting off with, be concerned enough to insist on keeping you safe.”

“Or are you afraid I’ll give you something?” Benji snarked, belligerence in his tone. “I don’t even have a condom on me. It wasn’t like I thought we were going to fuck. You could have just said no in the first place, I wouldn’t have gone all psycho on you.”

“I didn’t want to say no, but now I’ll have to since I don’t have any rubbers either.” John waited for the explosion from Benji but it didn’t come. He started to put his softening dick away, but Benji scrambled to stop him.

“Wait!” Benji fisted his cock and pumped it a time or two. “No, okay? I mean, if you don’t want to get off, okay, but I don’t want to stop. Do you?”

John shook his head. “I told you, we need a condom for—”

“No, not that.” Benji stood and freed his own cock, an impressive length for a guy of his stature. “We can do this.” He straddled John’s lap. “Help me.” John felt for a moment like he was back in school fumbling his first hand job, but he licked his palm then took Benji’s cock in hand. The heat and heft of it was beautiful, especially after so long without touching another man.

“Oh yes, just like that,” Benji whispered, fisting John’s length. “Damn, that feels so good.”

“Yeah,” John got out before biting his tongue to keep from coming. Benji was working him so perfectly it was like he knew John’s cock intimately already. He thumbed the slit and John loosed a garbled sound.

“Give it up for me,” Benji encouraged. “Next time, I’ll bring rubbers and you can fuck my mouth or my ass, but right now, give me this.”

John wanted to say there wouldn’t be a next time. He didn’t think Benji was what or who he needed, and Benji didn’t seem to want anything more than to get off. But Benji twisted his hand around John’s crown while at the same time rutting against him. John gasped and clutched Benji’s cock, trying to keep a steady rhythm. His climax slammed into him the next time Benji rubbed his slit. A sound almost like a sob got past his lips, then he was coming, his body suffused with sensations that carried him to release.

Benji cursed and grunted, wiggling in his lap. John thought Benji must have come too, but he wasn’t sure and his head was buzzing from the orgasm he’d just had.

“God, that was something,” Benji finally mumbled, slumping against him.

“It was,” John grated out. He would have to figure out just what it was later, when he could think again.

“Can we do it again sometime?”

John managed to open his eyes and found Benji peering up at him, so much hope in those dark eyes that saying no wasn’t possible. He couldn’t say yes, either, though, because he wanted more than this, no matter how good it had felt.

Benji must have seen something in his expression, because the hope died out in Benji’s eyes, and bitterness was in his tone when he spoke. “Right. What was I thinking. You didn’t even want me to blow you. I should learn, right? I should know better than to push myself on someone. I just keep doing it every fucking time. Every. Fucking. Time.”

“Benji—”

“No,” Benji snapped out as he got up. “I don’t want to hear it. I know. You told me. Just forget it. I won’t bother you again.” He began swiping at his belly and cock with his shirt tail.

“Wait,” John pleaded, trying to figure out how everything had gone ass over teakettle so quickly.

Benji tucked his cock back in his briefs and shook his head. “I can’t do this right now. I just—” John opened his mouth to say what, he didn’t know, but the glare Benji shot him had him rethinking speaking at all.

“I’m leaving. You don’t want me, that’s fine. I’ve never been enough for anyone, anyway. I’ll see you around.”

“Benji,” John shouted, finally getting his ability to speak back. “Wait, I want to talk to you—”

Benji stopped for a moment, then muttered, “Another time, John. I need to get out of here right now.”

John was left sitting with a mess on his lap and more confusion than he’d experienced in ages. He’d hold Benji to that promise of another time, though.