Ray pulled the rooftop flashing lights out of the backseat of his red car and drove as if he’d never heard of speed limits, but the drive back to the farm felt far, far too long for Ben. The sick feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with the many twists of the mountain road, or the knowledge of what Harriet’s book, somewhere in the backseat, contained.
Nate was in danger and I wasn’t there.
He was out of the car before it rolled to a complete stop, taking in the damage with a sinking heart. Smoke hung in the air and the grass on the front lawn was scorched. The flower bed in front of the house had been trampled, and the front kitchen and living room windows were smashed.
A police officer came down the porch to meet them. “Excuse me, sir. I need to ask you to identify yourself―”
“Hawick’s staying with the family,” Ray said. “Shit. What happened here?”
As the police officer began to recount what she’d seen, Ben dashed into the house.
Nate sat at the kitchen table, a first-aid kit in front of him. He was laboriously wrapping a bandage around his hand. He looked up as Ben entered the kitchen and then away.
Ben felt a tension within him lift. Seeing Nate for himself reassured him in a way that their phone conversation hadn’t. He laid his hand on Nate’s shoulder for a moment, before pulling out the chair next to Nate and quietly but firmly taking the bandage from him.
“You’ll have an officer here all night.” The sheriff nodded acknowledgment of Ben’s arrival but continued to speak. In marked contrast to her earlier visit, she stood in front of the coffeemaker while Ma sat at the table. “And we’re not leaving till we’re sure you feel secure.”
Ma looked even older. There was a bandage on her cheek, and she didn’t have a speck of color in her face. “I taught Sunday School to some of those men! They’re our neighbors, friends… Dan came to our wedding!”
“Dan should know better than to run his mouth without thinking. That’s disturbing public peace at the very least, inciting violence at the worst… Him and that pastor.” The sheriff banged a coffee cup down in front of Ma.
“Don’t speak ill of a man of the cloth.” Ma’s response was automatic, reflexive.
Nate clenched his fist. “What the hell, Ma! He’s a jerk, no matter what his job is!”
“Nathan! I don’t want to hear that language from you!”
Ben placed his hand on Nate’s arm, waiting until he’d relaxed his fist to tie off the bandage. He shifted his seat closer to Nate, putting his hand on Nate’s arm.
Nate met Ben’s eyes and grimaced. He had a smear of blood on his cheek and an angry red mark, but Ben recognized the grimace for what it was―an apology. He squeezed Nate’s hand lightly.
“Pastor’s doing the Lord’s work. What he thinks is best.” Ma looked at the coffee cup in front of her as if she’d never seen one before. “This is―”
“A shock,” the sheriff said. “People acting hastily and jumping to conclusions. Don’t take it to heart, Emma. They’re at fault, and you’ve got a dozen police witnesses to the fact that it was entirely unprovoked.”
Ma shook her head. “You’ve been very kind to us, but if it’s the Lord’s will―”
“If anything was the Lord’s will, it was the Forensic Team being right around the corner. Come on, Ma. Snap out of this.” Nate leaned against the table to put his hand on Ma’s.
“Nate’s got the right idea,” the sheriff said. “You’ve got two good sons taking care of you. You’ll be fine.”
Ma put a hand to her face, as she turned aside, but it was too late. They’d all seen her face crumple.
“Ma.” Nate pulled her into a hug. She buried her face in his T-shirt, but it was not enough to muffle her sobs.
“That’s the way,” the sheriff encouraged. “Let it out.”
Ben quietly gathered the bandages Nate had been using into the first-aid kit and picked it up. He’d seen where it was kept in the bathroom and intended to put it back. Ben wasn’t sure what instinct prompted him to push the door to the bedroom Nate and Ethan shared open instead.
“Ethan?”
Nate’s twin was sitting on one of the beds. He looked worse for wear, pale except where red marks showed up injuries.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Ma told me ‘go to your room’.” Ethan’s voice was even flatter than usual, something Ben had not imagined possible.
“And no one’s looked at your injuries?”
Ethan frowned. “They trampled Ma’s dahlias.”
Ben’s mouth twitched. Now was not the time. “I think your mother’s more worried about her son than her dahlias.” He sat down on the bed. “Give me your arm.”
Ethan held it out obediently.
It was like practicing first aid on a mannequin. A really lifelike mannequin, but a mannequin nonetheless. Ethan sat motionless and silent throughout the application of disinfectant, bandages, and soothing gel. Ben frowned as he set the latter item back in the first-aid kit. Most of Nate and Ethan’s injuries were consistent with being in a fight, but Ethan’s burns were something else. Ben couldn’t help but think of the scorched grass outside the house. “Does this hurt?”
Ethan grunted.
“I can ask your mother if she has an ice pack. Or we can make one ourselves―”
“Thank you, Ben, but that’s not necessary.” Ma stood in the doorway. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she’d regained her self-composure. “I’ll mind Ethan. You’ve had a long day yourself, you’ll want to rest.”
It was dark outside the window. Ben realized just how late it was by the ache in his body. “Goodnight, Ethan. Sleep well.”
Ethan didn’t stir. His expression was just as blank as when Ben had entered the room, and his hand rested on his bandaged arm. He looked at the wall, in the direction of the front of house.
The dahlias? Ben turned to the door and received a shock. Ma watched Ethan with something that looked very much like fear.
She looked up, stepping back into the hall and the expression was gone. Ben followed her down the hall with an uneasy feeling. Fear of Ethan? Or for him?
“You have everything you need?” The question was automatic, Ma opening the spare-room door and waiting for Ben to enter.
“Yes. Don’t worry about me at all.”
Ma frowned. She looked around the spare room, her gaze resting on the shopping bags. “Are you packed? I don’t mean to be inhospitable, but it’s time you thought about leaving.”
“Because of what happened tonight? Mrs. Granger, don’t think for a second that I―”
“I don’t think, I know. Someone’s going to get hurt, and I don’t want it to be you.”
That wasn’t a threat. It was defeat. Ben rubbed his arm. “I want to help. I can help. I want to stay, as long as you’ll have me―”
Ma shook her head. “You can’t help, Ben. No one can. This is a judgment on me, and there’s nothing you or I or anyone can do about it.”
The hairs on Ben’s arm stood up one by one. Judgment? “What do you mean?”
Ma turned away as if she hadn’t heard. “The bus leaves from Rockford at ten fifteen. The sheriff has said she’ll see you get on it safely.” She started to shut the door.
Ben caught it before she could. “What judgment? Did you do something? Know something? If it’s got any bearing on this case―”
Ma looked at him. It was a dispassionate gaze that went through him. “That’s nothing to do with you, and it’s better that way.” She shut the door, leaving Ben in the dark of the spare room.
Ben stood, looking at the closed door, for a long time after her footsteps had faded away down the hall. A judgment on me… “She wouldn’t. Couldn’t.” Nate said she was passionate about her faith, and what Ben had seen of her bore that out. But a mother would go to dire lengths to protect a child… And Ethan was proof that Ma wasn’t above pushing the limits of her faith.
Ben leaned back against the door. He felt better with the wood as a barrier between him and the rest of the house. Is her faith a front? Or is she trying to make amends for her sin―whatever it is? No amends were possible for someone who’d summoned a demon. Their soul was forfeit, claimed by the demon as soon as the agent became unable to fulfill their promised contract. Ma could not fail to know that.
“Investigators rely on facts, not imagination.” Ben dug his fingers into his arm to drown out the voice that immediately reminded him he was no longer an investigator. “Ma’s scan came up empty. Whatever she’s hiding, it isn’t magic.”
On the other side of the door, he could hear the quiet tread of footsteps and the front door closing. Silence settled throughout the house, the occasional settling of boards taking the place of the house’s daytime inhabitants.
Ben slid down the length of the door to sit on the floor. Tired as he was, he knew getting into bed would do absolutely nothing. He was keyed up, wired, thoughts bouncing around inside his head. Does Nate know that Ma wants me out? Or that she admitted to something potentially ominous? Would the people of Little River make a second attempt at swaying justice? Was Nate upset that Ben was in Rockford instead of being there to help?
Ben settled himself in a cross-legged pose, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and deliberately. Then again. On the third round, the cyclone of his thoughts had been downgraded to a tropical storm. Ben was calm enough to be aware that something was off.
Exhaling slowly, Ben worked his way back through his mental steps. He felt it again, a certain resistance, pushing him back from certain thoughts, just as he’d sensed the obscuration spell. No magic this time, but an instinctive knowledge to draw back from pain.
Demon-marked. Ben swallowed. He retraced the memory that had jumped into his mind in the hotel room.
A room, full of pungent smoke and the cloying, copper scent that made him feel sick. He was afraid, but he stepped forward as if compelled. There were shouts of alarm behind him, and a heavy hand clasped on his shoulder, drawing him away, but it was too late. Ben had seen it, and that instant’s glance was enough.
Ben caught himself on the brink of shying away from it. No. It’s time. He took a breath, was alarmed at how loud and raspy it sounded in the still, sleeping house. He wriggled himself back more firmly against the door. The smooth wood was not as cold as he expected. Ben thought of Nate, replacing the wooden surface with Nate’s solid presence. Taking another deep breath, he forced himself to picture the scene in its entirety.
Mother.
✩
Ben sat quietly on the flight of stairs between the second and third stories. The house was old and full of shadows. The light in the hall below didn’t reach more than halfway up the first flight of stairs, or if it did, the dark wood of the banisters and heavy carpet immediately swallowed it. He was almost positive no one could see him, but he wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees to be sure. He couldn’t see more than his father’s back and shoulders, still wearing the suit he’d worn for the funeral, and Godfrey, changed back into his usual suit. Hunter was entirely out of sight down the hall. But Ben heard them perfectly.
“A quiet affair.” Ben strained to catch Austin’s words, low and tired. “She’d have hated it. She always said that funerals were far too morbid. A waste of a good party.”
“Under the circumstances…” Godfrey’s placatory murmur was so faint as to be almost inaudible.
“What are the circumstances?” Hunter’s languid question was the most normal of the three of them. “You said the coroner’s ruling came in?”
Austin bowed his head. It was Godfrey who answered. “He admitted to some doubt, but I explained the situation. In view of Bennet’s youth, he agreed that it was better to keep the affair off the public record. As far as anyone knows, Audrey committed suicide while the balance of her mind was disturbed.”
“Department Seven won’t like that.” Austin crossed his arms. “They already don’t like it.”
“They don’t have to like it.” Hunter came into sight then, looking, as he always did, impossibly dramatic, even at a distance of two flights of stairs and a set of banisters between them.
Ben felt his heart give an unhappy lurch―he didn’t want to be spying on Hunter, but no one told him anything. They just got impossibly solemn and shook their heads―as if he was still in kindergarten, and not fourth grade and fully aware that his mother had not killed herself.
“This case is no longer their jurisdiction,” Hunter continued. “The only ones who know the truth are the three of us―and Bennet.”
Ben stayed very still.
“How much does Bennet know?” Godfrey’s inquiry was mild.
“Nothing,” his father said.
Hunter turned to glance at Godfrey momentarily. “I read the child psychiatrist’s report for Department Seven. She expressed concern. In her opinion, he’s not reacting like a normal child―”
“How would a normal child react to this?” Austin raised an arm in a sweeping gesture. “What is a normal reaction anyway?”
“She believes that Bennet is concealing something―or protecting someone.”
The silence following Hunter’s words seemed to seep into the house itself. Ben felt a cold clamminess creep up his arms. There was still time to creep back into his room. They’d never know he had heard.
But he couldn’t make himself move.
Austin’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Ben is…was…very close to his mother. She spoiled him and he adored her. It will be hard for him to accept that she’s gone. Even harder to accept how she died. It’s likely that he’s protecting her.”
Godfrey exclaimed. “Even though she―?”
“Perhaps we should continue this conversation in the dining room,” Hunter suggested casually. “What is that saying? Something about little pitchers…?” His dark eyes rested on Ben’s banisters for a second, and then he turned, leading the way into the dining room.
Ben stayed where he was, not daring to move until he’d heard the door close behind them. He counted all the way to a hundred twice, before he stood, making himself go downstairs.
Hunter was draped over the chaise longue when Ben opened the door. “Evening, Bennet. Do you like your new room?”
Ben nodded. He crossed the room to where Austin stood, looking out the window, and put his hand in his father’s. “I like the desk. And the bookcase.”
“If there’s anything you want, feel free to let Godfrey and I know. A TV, perhaps?”
Austin made a sound of protest. “You’re spoiling him!”
“It’s all right,” Ben said quickly. “I don’t want a TV.”
“But there is something you want?” Hunter turned his crystalline gaze on Ben.
It was like watching the snakes at the zoo. There was something unsettling, something dangerous, something absolutely fascinating about Hunter. Only Austin’s hand tightening around him, stopped Ben from taking a step towards Hunter. “I want a new copy of Dracula.” Ben belatedly remembered his manners. “Please.”
“Ben!” Austin hissed, mortified. “You mustn’t―”
“My copy’s missing!” Ben protested. “And I always read it before bed!”
“Oh, that’s easy.” Hunter stood. “I’m sure there’s a copy of the library. Shall we take a look together, Bennet?”
It was tempting―very tempting. Looking at a real vampire’s library with a real vampire! But Ben shook his head, tightening his grip on his father’s hand. “Maybe later.”
“I’m very sorry.” Austin hastily apologized. “I really don’t know what’s got into him.”
Hunter’s smile was amused. The hint of a fang was just visible. “No apologies necessary. I―or Godfrey―can show you the library anytime, Bennet. After all, this is your home now.”
✩✩✩
Ben’s phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him out of the memory. It buzzed three more times as he found it, and Ben shook his head wryly as he looked at the lock screen. Was giving Nate a phone a bad idea?
―Ben
―Ben
―Going to keep doing this until you reply
―Ben
―B
―E
―N
Ben smiled, tapping in his passcode. ―That’s entirely unnecessary, Nate. What’s so important it can’t wait?
―Think you can get to the barn without anyone seeing you?
Ben stared at the message for a moment. Then he stood, making his way through shadow to the window. The night was clear, the moon casting a faint glow, making the shadows darker. The barn was one solid black profile against the night, unfathomably deep.
Something in Ben woke. His heart beat in anticipation. Navigating the garden in the dark was a challenge even without the police officer stationed outside on guard duty to contend with.
―Absolutely, he typed. Why?
―Tell you when you get here.
Ben placed his phone in his pocket. Fortunately, his sneakers were close at hand. Nate was confident that Ethan liked Ben, but Ben wasn’t convinced. He’d taken to keeping his sneakers inside the spare bedroom when he wasn’t wearing them to make sure they didn’t get lost a second time. Ben pulled them on in the dark. Eyes already adjusted to the night, Ben opened the spare-room window.
The garden felt different in the dark. The sweetly scented flowers had retired with the sun, and the cool night air carried a smell that seemed to come from the earth itself. Unseen trees whispered softly in the breeze. The porch creaked as the officer on guard duty paced.
Easy.
Ben slipped quietly across the grass. The floral hedge masked him from view, and he moved with the wind, letting the sound of rustling leaves disguise any sound he made. The open field before the barn gave him slight difficulty, but Ben used the shadows cast by Nate’s truck and the barn itself to melt into the night. He pulled the door behind him, heart beating fast but his breathing perfectly under control. The night was his.
The only light in the barn came from a dusty skylight, through which the moonlight fell in one pool. Nate stood in its center, looking at his phone. He was perfectly outlined as if he stood on stage beneath a spotlight―or only seconds away from an alien abduction.
Little River is getting to me. Shaking his head, Ben ghosted across the barn floor to place his hand on Nate’s arm. “I’m here.”
Nate jumped, hastily grabbing at his phone. “Jesus Christ, Ben! You scared me!”
“Keep your voice down.” Ben hoped that the shadows hid his amusement. “Not unless you want our police escort rushing in to investigate.”
Nate breathed out, turning to face Ben. “After all the effort of sneaking out here? Pass.” He tucked his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.
Ben looked around the barn. The musty air smelled of hay and animals. The floor was mostly clear, but Ben could see hay bales piled up against the wall, and a ladder leading up to some kind of loft. Pieces of machinery, unidentifiable in the dark, loomed strangely. “What’s up?”
Nate reached for Ben. “I wanted to talk to you. But now you’re here, I don’t know what to say.” His fingers traveled restlessly up and down Ben’s arm.
Ben raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to talk?”
“Well, yeah. I mean―given everything that’s happened, anything else would be weird.”
And yet, Nate was still touching him. “Heard of terror management theory?” As Nate shook his head, Ben continued. “You were threatened tonight, confronted with your own mortality. Faced with the prospect of death, our biological imperative kicks into overdrive, making us want to reproduce as quickly as possible.”
“Shouldn’t we decide whether we’re dating before talking about kids?”
Ben nudged Nate with his elbow. “It’s only a theory. But if it’s right, basically, we’re hardwired to want to fuck.”
“This explains so much about why vampires are so popular.” Nate drew Ben towards him.
“It’s a subconscious urge. Completely natural.” Ben lightly placed a hand on Nate’s side. “But vampires take advantage of it.”
“Really.” Nate’s voice lowered confidentially. “Planning on taking advantage of me?”
“You forget.” Ben leaned in, deliberately speaking to Nate’s sensitive neck. “I’m no longer a vampire.” He was so close to Nate that he felt the shiver go through him.
Nate leaned over Ben. His voice dripped with calculated insolence. “You’re saying we’re just some biological urge then?”
Challenging me. Ben felt the spike in adrenaline at the same time as the arousal. He placed his hand on Nate’s chest. Nate’s breathing was rapid, his body tense. Violence, the urge to fight, assert dominance and reclaim territory seemed equally as likely as sex. Supernatural being who has hurt you once, the logical part of Ben’s mind reminded him. You won’t survive a tree being thrown at you―if that’s all he does. The voice coiled at the back of Ben’s mind, sinuously inserting itself in a cold shiver running across his shoulders. You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s capable of.
I’ve had it up to here with the unknown. Ben tightened his fingers in Nate’s T-shirt, tugging him down to face level. He could feel Nate’s startled exhalation on his cheek. Time to tackle this head-on. “Want to find out?”
The words came out more aggressively than he’d intended, but Nate’s response was immediate. “How?”
Even though it was dark, the moonlight not reaching between them, Ben still looked down. He felt for and found the rough denim of Nate’s jeans. Nate was hard and hot beneath the fabric. Ben gripped his erection tightly, stroking it through the cloth. “You’d like to fuck me.” Nate grunted, an admission of need that went straight to Ben’s cock. “You’d like to push me back against the hay and take me.”
Nate surged forward as if Ben’s words had pressed a button. Mouth on Ben’s, he gripped Ben’s hips as he ground against him.
Ben didn’t realize they’d moved until he bumped into the hay bale. Stretching out an arm for balance, he found nothing behind him. The next second, he was on his back, neck tickled by the blades of hay, and his hands locked around Nate’s ass. Nate thrust against him urgently, and Ben arched his hips to meet him, reveling in the mindlessness of it. Who’s thinking now?
Nate swore as he fumbled with Ben’s fly.
Ben had a moment of triumph―Nate was miles more experienced than he was, so seeing him this needy was a thrill―before realization hit. He caught Nate’s hand. “No.”
Nate came to an immediate halt. “No?”
Ben took a breath to control himself. “You wanted to prove we are more than a biological impulse, right?” Nate made no attempt to rebut him. Ben felt awareness of his power grow as he continued. “We’re not going to do that by giving in to our urges.”
Nate groaned. “Fuck, Ben. I― I need―”
Ben gripped Nate’s shoulder tightly. “Can you control yourself? Do what I tell you―exactly what I tell you?” Nate drew a sharp breath and Ben pressed on. “Then you’ll know it’s not all biology.”
“I don’t remember any of this from Ms. Pollock’s class.”
“Go. Stand in the moonlight.” It was a relief to say the words, know they carried nothing more than Ben’s own thoughts.
Nate pried himself away slowly, giving Ben a last caress before he stood. His obvious reluctance gave Ben a thrill. He sat up, trusting the dark would hide his smile. After days at the mercy of events out of his control, calling the shots felt very good indeed.
“What now?” Nate stood at the center of the moonlight. His eyes were dark pools, the light not touching them. He looked back over his shoulder, catching and holding Ben’s gaze. “Aren’t you going to join me?” He ran his hands over his own body in a deliberate caress―and equally deliberate challenge. Nate was taking power back.
Ben felt a rush of affection. Nate was a consummate professional in his own right, thinking of Ben’s pleasure in the midst of his own needs. “It’s not your body,” he said, the words rough and unconsidered. “It’s you.”
How was it that the unguarded surprise on Nate’s face was more intimate than seeing him naked? Ben rolled off the hay bale and onto his feet, seeking the cover of the shadows. He wasn’t sure that he wanted his own expression to be visible.
“So why I am I standing here all on my own?” Nate had recovered enough bravado to give a convincing challenge.
“Clothes off.”
Nate turned, trying to pinpoint Ben’s location in the dark. “Where are you?” His T-shirt was already halfway up his chest.
“I don’t want a show, Nate. I want you naked.”
Nate’s smile curved dangerously before it was hidden by the T-shirt being jerked over his head. “Who’s needy now?” He casually skimmed a hand across his perfectly toned stomach, before letting the T-shirt drop to the floor.
Ben abruptly realized he’d paused to watch entirely unthinkingly. Nate’s good at this. No surprise there. “The longer you take on this, the longer you have to wait.”
“Yeah, yeah. Isn’t that the point?” But it seemed to Ben that Nate fumbled with his fly in his haste. Finally, he stood beneath the skylight, completely bathed in the moonlight. His freed erection swayed lightly as Nate shifted. It looked heavy, demanding attention, but Nate lightly stroked his stomach, denying himself the contact he obviously craved. “Naked as ordered. You gonna do something about it?” As the barn creaked, the old boards, shifting, Nate turned eagerly toward the sound.
Wanting me. Worry flashed through Ben. Am I being cruel? He stepped out to join Nate beneath the skylight, announcing his presence with a hand on Nate’s back. “What do you want, Nate?”
Nate started, but he recovered quickly, turning around to face Ben. “You to hurry the fuck up.”
“You don’t know what I have in mind.” Ben’s hand had traveled as Nate turned and lingered over his hip.
“I don’t need to know. I trust you.” There was no hesitation in Nate’s voice, none at all.
Ben caught his breath. Nate’s admission was terrifying―as was his immediate reaction to it. I shouldn’t be so turned on by his vulnerability! I could hurt him―use him―
But I’m not going to. Ben gripped Nate’s ass with both hands, rocking against him so that his trapped erection brushed against Nate’s, making his intentions clear. “This is about you. Tell me what you want.”
Nate ground back. “Fuck me. Hard, fast, furious.”
That’s not proving anything, said the single part of Ben’s brain not occupied by with the immediate need to be inside Nate. “Can you―” Ben groped for the right word, his mouth dry. “―handle that?”
Nate stepped out of Ben’s grip, turning around. He bent over, moonlight catching the shift of his muscles as he braced himself, deliberately pressing back against Ben. “I want you to push me right to the edge.” His voice was low but absolutely certain. “I can take whatever you give me and more. Let me show you my control.”
It was on now. Ben undid his fly, pushing his briefs down to free his erection. “You can’t touch yourself. No matter how close you get, you’ll keep your hands on your legs.”
“Challenge accepted.” Nate sounded eager.
A good part of Ben wanted to thrust in right then, catch Nate by surprise. He firmly checked the impulse. Nate’s too willing to be what other people need. I have to make sure this is what he wants. He ran his hands over Nate’s ass, sliding his cock over Nate’s crack in a shallow thrust.
Nate hummed, rocking back. The moonlight gave his skin the black-and-white quality of an artistic photograph. Ben ran his hand down the curve of Nate’s spine, admiring the way he held himself almost still, despite the tautness of his muscles indicating his need, even as Ben’s hand slid across his cheeks. Nate was beautiful.
“You an ass man?”
“What?” Ben was startled.
Nate grinned at him over his shoulder. “Feeling me up like that.” His eyes shone darkly. “You’re totally getting off.”
Daylight Ben would have snatched his hand away in immediate denial, his cheeks burning. Nighttime Ben considered Nate’s words, his hands continuing to work Nate’s skin. This is a turn on. “Learn something new.” He pressed his length fully against Nate, letting him feel how ready he was. “Lube?”
“Don’t need it.” Nate’s response was immediate. “Fuck, Ben. I can handle it.”
Ben squeezed his hip in warning as he stepped back. “I’m not hurting you.” He trod on the denim of Nate’s jeans and picked them up. Nate usually had something in his pockets―there. The condom was immediately recognizable, but the thin tube could have been a number of things. Ben held it up to the moonlight to see the label and raised an eyebrow. Just as he’d thought. Lube. “You came very well prepared for a guy who wanted to talk.”
“Come on, Ben. Don’t leave me hanging.”
That note of breathlessness in Nate’s words sent an immediate reaction through Ben. He rocked against Nate’s leg as he hastily coated his fingers with the lube. “Self-control. It won’t hurt you to wait.”
“It might. God, Ben.” Nate readjusted his position, trying to push back as Ben’s fingers sought his entrance. “Come on―” The plea ended with ground teeth.
Ben added two fingers, and then a third. He’d managed to subdue his straining cock, but Nate’s raw need rocked through him. Precome leaked from his cock, smearing Nate’s leg and eliciting another moan. Not Nate. That was me.
Nate rocked back, fucking himself on Ben’s fingers. “Ben, please. I want you in me, filling me. I’m ready, I’m so fucking ready.”
Ben fumbled to pull the condom on. He lined himself up with Nate’s hole. “Brace yourself.” He slid smoothly into Nate in one thrust.
First it was just the heat, the incredible sensation of being buried deep in Nate, joined with him. Then Nate gasped, purposefully tightening around him. “Ben…”
Ben grunted, pulling back to thrust forward. Nate was fighting for control, trying to take what he wanted. So why not give it to him?
“Oh fuck.” Nate readjusted his footing, to better meet Ben’s thrusts. “Yeah. Don’t hold back― Ben.”
He wasn’t going to last long. Already his body moved of its own accord, slamming against Nate in an urgent rhythm. Ben bit his lip, fighting to clear his head. What was he resisting exactly?
“God, Ben, yes. I need to feel this, feel you―” Nate rocked so forcefully that he was in real danger of falling―and he didn’t care.
Ben gripped him by his hips, taking firm hold of them. He could feel the rush starting, gathering force. “Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Make yourself come.”
Nate didn’t respond with words. There was a prolonged gasp, and then his entire body rippled, enfolding Ben in his release. Ben pushed desperately, heedlessly against him. Nate’s climax had pushed him over the edge, and then it was all he felt, flooding his senses with glorious sensation.
His legs abruptly decided they’d had enough of standing. Ben pulled out, managing a single step before finding himself abruptly on the barn floor.
Nate laughed breathlessly, following his example. “Jesus, Ben.” He brushed the hair out of Ben’s face, resting their foreheads together. “Have I told you how freaking hot it is when you take control like that?”
Ben leaned against Nate. Soon they would have to move. Already the hay that littered the barn floor was making itself felt, but now, for this one moment, everything was content. “You may have mentioned it. But you can tell me again.”