23
Ben
Ben could have laughed with relief at Sam’s words. He had been fairly sure that he’d read the signs carefully on the yacht, but then when Sam had mouthed the words ‘I love you,’ all that fear and doubt crept back in. The hesitancy in Sam’s eyes had said it all. But maybe that hesitancy came not from a lack of feeling, but from not knowing how Ben felt—a problem that had been solved, apparently, by looking through Ben’s photos.
When he had opened the door to find Sam looking through his camera, Ben felt like he was going to be sick. Nothing was more private and personal than the pictures he had on his camera. Unedited, unfiltered, it was the way he saw the world around him, and he knew that a lot of what he saw was Sam.
“I said it was the most amazing thing I’d ever had because it was.” A small smile flickered across his lips as he remembered that morning. “Of course, I didn’t say that the barista was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen.”
He wasn’t lying when he’d told Matías that he thought he’d been in love with Sam from the first moment he’d seen him. From the dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, to the way a strand of his hair fell in front of his eyes, Ben had been smitten with every part of him.
“I said I can explain the pictures, and I want to, before we go any further,” he said. Their confessions intertwined—Sam’s confession that he wanted to stop pretending and Ben’s confession that he had taken pictures of Sam for months. “I like you. In a romantic way. The pictures weren’t supposed to be creepy. They were just candids. I take pictures of things that interest me and make me happy. You do both.”
Sam smiled, and some of the tension eased from Ben’s shoulders. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t creeped out or disgusted or any of the things that Ben had feared he would be.
“Remember before we left?” he continued. “When Faith and I went into the storage closet?”
“How could I not? You two were gone longer than it took to get some cups.”
“Yeah, that was because she was telling me to ask you out.”
“What?” Sam looked like he didn’t know whether to be angry or amused. “Seriously?”
Ben nodded. “She was pretty pissed when I told her I was too much of a coward to.”
“I can’t really say anything. They’ve been pushing me toward you for ages, but I didn’t think you felt the same way, and I didn’t want to make things weird.”
“I didn’t want to find a new coffee shop.”
They both laughed, but when the laughter died, silence filled its place. Ben wasn’t entirely sure where to go from here. They both liked each other, and that was great, but now what? He didn’t normally do things this way. Normally when he started dating guys, he wasn’t friends with them first. He’d go on dates and see where things went.
He looked around, trying desperately to figure out something to say, but then he looked up at Sam and all need for words was gone, because Sam was staring at him with a very intent look on his face. Ben swallowed hard.
“You remember yesterday when we had to kiss in front of my entire family?” Sam’s voice was slightly raspy and so quiet that Ben had to strain to hear it.
“Yeah.”
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
Ben thought of the night before, how he had jerked off to the thought of Sam kissing him. Touching him. “You’re not the only one.”
Climbing off the bed, Sam walked over and held his hand out. Ben took it and stood and they stared at each other in silence for a moment, drinking in the fact that they were actually doing this, their fingers linked loosely together. Sam reached up with his free hand and cupped Ben’s cheek, and Ben closed his eyes, nuzzling against his palm.
“I wondered for months how your beard would feel,” Sam murmured.
“You could have asked to touch it at any time. I wouldn’t have said no.”
Sam smiled and stroked Ben’s cheek with his thumb, then brushed across his lower lip. He darted his tongue out, licking slowly up the thumb, never once breaking eye contact even as a shiver ran through Sam. Slowly, deliberately, Ben wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist, pulling him closer until they were touching and he could feel the rise and fall of Sam’s chest. Then he leaned forward and captured Sam’s lips in a slow, soft kiss.
Almost immediately, Sam melted, his lips parting to allow Ben inside. He groaned, sliding his tongue across Sam’s, tasting the bitter tang of the beer Sam had been nursing earlier. Pulling his hand from Sam’s grasp, Ben skimmed his fingers up Sam’s sides, grinning as he pulled away with a laugh.
“Not so light. I’m ticklish.”
Ben grinned. Oh, this could be fun. He wiggled his fingers and lunged, grabbing Sam around the waist with one arm and repeating the movement with the fingers of his free hand. They both laughed, Sam’s coming out as more of a pant, but in one swift move, Sam flipped them and pinned Ben against the wall. Humor was instantly replaced by lust, and he pressed back against Sam’s sturdy body, his breath coming too quickly.
“I think we’re wearing too many clothes,” he said lowly.
In any other relationship, this might have been moving too fast, but they had been friends for a year and skirting around the fact that they were interested in one another for several months. They’d wasted enough time. Ben wanted to know what it felt like to go to bed with him.
“I think you’re right.” Sam stepped back, allowing Ben to turn around. “You’re wearing more clothes than me. So go on. Take them off.”