18
pats his jacket pocket and smiles, picks up the bag from the front seat and slams the door. Ben teased Alex about staying here last night so they could check the pantry and wash glasses and dishes until Alex asked him if he wanted to taste his brother’s cheesecake or have grapefruit for dessert. He’d then dispatched Ben to buy more wine, paper towels, and toothpaste. None of which they need in either apartment. The box in his pocket was not on the list.
The door is ajar, and Ben can hear voices inside; Matt and Claire must have arrived. He takes a deep breath, pushes the door open and goes in. For a moment, he has a weird sense of double vision when he sees Matt standing in front of Alex in the kitchen, then he blinks and can see the differences. Matt isn’t quite as tall, closer to Ben’s height, and his hair is shorter and receding a little in the front; his face is rounder and he doesn’t have his younger brother’s lean, muscular build. Nor do his chocolate colored eyes have the wary look so often present in Alex’s hazel ones.
Seated at the Formica counter is a short, blonde woman in a pink sweater and jeans who turns to look Ben over as he walks through the door. A sunny smile lights up big blue eyes and she jumps off the stool, arms open to hug him.
“You must be Ben,” she says. Keeping a firm hand on his waist, she turns to speak to Alex. “Brat, you didn’t tell me he’s gorgeous.”
“Oh God, don’t encourage him, Claire,” Alex says as he comes around the counter. Ben leans over and kisses him before handing him the bag of groceries. Red faced but smiling, Alex shakes his head and begins unpacking the bag.
Matt steps around the counter and Ben holds his hand out toward him with a grin.
“Hi, I’m Ben Larsen,” he says.
“So, you’re the man my brother’s all turned inside out over,” Matt says as they shake hands. His handshake is firm and as he holds his gaze steady, Ben is aware he’s being sized up.
“The gorgeous man,” Claire chimes in.
“Oh, I like her,” Ben says as Matt finally lets his hand go.
“Uh huh, what a surprise,” Alex says rolling his eyes. He hands Ben a bottle of wine and the bottle opener. “Make yourself useful, idiot.”
Ben opens the bottle, pours a glass for each, and takes the stool next to Claire to watch Matt paint egg yolk over a long pastry case and mark three slashes in the top. Next to him Alex is tossing shredded lettuce and chopped tomatoes in a large glass bowl. He stops to gulp his wine and Ben smiles at the nervousness.
Over lunch, Matt asks Ben about his work and what sport he follows. Amused, Ben answers, feeling as though he’s being vetted by an overanxious father on prom night. By the time, they open the second bottle of wine, Claire has kicked off her shoes and is sitting cross legged on her chair, laughing as Ben tells them about Alex and the tarantula.
“He’s always hated spiders.” Matt says. “I’m surprised he didn’t crap himself on the spot.”
“I think it was a close thing,” Ben says reaching for the mashed potatoes. Scowling, Alex holds them out of reach.
“Are you quite done?” he asks.
“Aww baby, you know you love me,” Ben says and holds his hand out. Alex shakes his head and hands over the bowl.
“Alex says your mom’s an architect,” Matt says as he returns from the kitchen with the cheesecake. It’s at least six inches deep and covered with a raspberry coulis and chocolate shavings. Ben turns wide eyes toward Alex.
“I thought you’d approve. Wait until you taste it,” Alex says with a grin before turning to face Matt. “And you should see their house, Claire. It’s incredible and she’s got this gorgeous window in her studio that takes up an entire wall.”
“Larsen?” Claire’s hand, holding a spoonful of cheesecake, stops in mid-air and hovers as she frowns at Ben. “And your mother’s an architect?”
Ben nods, notices Alex and Matt exchange confused looks, and grins. He knows what’s coming.
“Oh my god, is your mother, Alison Larsen?”
“Yup,” Ben says, “sure is.”
“So when you say your grandmother is named Polly, you mean your grandmother is the Polly Larsen? The writer?”
“Uh huh,” Ben says and nudges his already empty plate toward Alex hoping he’ll be too distracted by the conversation to argue about giving him another slice. Sighs when the second slice is markedly smaller than the first.
“Am I missing something?” Alex asks, looking from Claire to Ben.
“Ben’s mom is famous, she’s won awards, I studied her work in college,” Claire says, excitement dancing in her eyes. “His grandmother’s books got me through college. They’re hot – you know like Jackie Collins kind of hot. Only way before Collins and way ahead of her time. I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection until now.”
“Is that true? About your mom?” Alex asks, and Ben glances up at the strained tone. “How come I didn’t see any awards anywhere? Not even in her studio.”
“She has them packed away somewhere. Says it embarrasses her to have them on show,” Ben says. For years he’s tried to convince her to at least put them in a cabinet in the living room, but she always refuses. He stretches his leg out and rubs Alex’s ankle with his foot, hoping to reassure him. Claire continues to chatter, and Ben realizes it’s directed at him.
“Your grandmother is one of my favorite writers,” she says. “Don’t take this the wrong way but she’s the literary equivalent of a hot fudge sundae, hot and sweet and sometimes exactly what you need.”
Ben bursts into laughter.
“She’d love that description. You guys should come down one weekend and meet her, Claire.”
“Really? Oh my God, I would so love to do that. And your mom too of course, but wow, I can’t believe you’re Polly Larsen’s grandson,” Claire says and pushes her untouched cheesecake in Ben’s direction. Alex intercepts it and stands up.
“Coffee?” he asks, picking up the plate of cheesecake with the other hand.
“Hey, she gave that to me,” Ben says grabbing for the plate. “Claire, make him give it back. Alex. Baby!”
#
is stretched out on the couch, eyes closed, his head resting on Alex’s lap listening to the comforting hum of the dishwasher from the other room.
“Your brother’s a genius.”
“Yeah and he’s straight. And married. And you love me, remember.”
“I remember,” Ben says. He smiles at the little flash of insecurity but doesn’t open his eyes. “Claire’s cute.”
“She’s a honey,” Alex agrees. “My mother gives her a hard time too, but she just gives it right on back.”
“Go Claire. You know, I think I had a spiritual experience with that cheesecake.”
Alex snorts.
“Let me know if you need some time alone together,” he says, running his fingers through Ben’s hair and Ben feels his body tense. “Why didn’t you tell me about your mom and Polly? About them being famous?”
“I don’t know that they’re all that famous really. I mean they’re not celebrities or anything,” Ben says opening his eyes and swinging his legs around, so he can sit up, groaning and rubbing his stomach. “Look when I realized you didn’t know, I didn’t say anything because I figured if I told you, you’d freak out, but if you just met them, you’d be okay. Was I wrong?”
“No, you’re right,” Alex says after a moment. “I probably would have freaked out. But only a little.”
It’s Ben’s turn to snort.
“Yeah, because you only freak out on a small scale, baby.”
He bumps his shoulder against Alex’s; smiles when Alex bumps him back. In the kitchen, the dishwasher falls silent. Alex looks around the room.
“Alex? Everything okay?”
Alex nods.
“Can we go home?” he says. “To your place.”
Ben catches his breath. Is Alex saying what he thinks he’s saying?
“Home? Really? You sure?”
Alex nods again.
“Yeah I’m sure.”
“Okay then,” he says and stands up. “Do you want to get any more of your stuff tonight?”
Alex thinks about it for a moment and decides to get the rest of his clothes. They can sort everything else later. Ben hugs him.
“Come on then, let’s do this,” he says. “You get your things and I’ll get the cheesecake.”
#
Alex rolls his suitcase to the bedroom, calling over his shoulder to Ben to put the cheesecake in the fridge and to keep his fingers out of it.
“You’re really bossy,” Ben yells back.
“Thought you liked me being bossy,” Alex says when he comes back into the living room. Instead of answering, Ben pulls him closer and kisses him. Alex closes his eyes and opens his mouth, meets Ben’s tongue with his own. Tastes raspberry and chocolate and pulls away.
“I told you to leave the cheesecake alone,” he says, trying not to laugh at Ben’s attempt to feign innocence.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh huh, you will when your blood sugar goes through the roof. What am I going to do with you?”
“Well I have a suggestion,” Ben says, tightening his fingers in the small of Alex’s back. “But there’s something else I want to do first.”
Curious, Alex lets himself be led to the couch. Two glasses of wine are on the coffee table and next to them is a glossy black box with the word Omega printed on the top in gold letters. Alex looks back at Ben, puzzled; Ben opens the box and takes the wine glass from Alex. Runs his fingers along the leather cuff. Brushes a fingertip over the inflamed skin at the edge.
“I understand why you wear this thing,” he says, “but I think it’s time you updated, okay?”
The watch has a navy leather bracelet. The face is a shade lighter, edged in gold. Two smaller faces, tracking minutes and elapsed time, are set within and offset by elegant roman numerals, and hands in gold.
Ben unbuckles the leather cuff and takes it off. Lifts Alex’s wrist to his mouth and kisses the soft skin, then attaches the watch in place of the cuff. The strap hides the scar but the raw skin is uncovered, able to heal.
“This way, you might be on time for a change too,” he says.
Alex runs his index finger over the face of the watch and bites his lip.
“I was going to give it to you earlier, but we got side-tracked packing your clothes up,” Ben says. “Are you really sure you want to do this?”
Alex hesitates a moment, trying to find the words he wants. Laces his fingers through Ben’s and sips his wine. He can feel Ben waiting, trying to not push him. He looks around the room at the black and white furnishings, the framed photos of Ben, Allie, and Polly, the chrome cased technology.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he says, “I’m fucking terrified but I’m sure. God only knows what my parents will say. Or do. But I’m sure.”
He puts his wine down and leans back. Looks at the watch on his wrist and then at the man sitting next to him. This isn’t how he ever imagined his life would be and he’s still not sure what to do with it all.
“It’s beautiful, thank you,” he says, running his fingers along the strap. “How did you end up in my life?”
“Blame Bono.”
#
Ben grins, his tongue between his teeth, suggestion dancing in his eyes and Alex catches his breath; they’ve made love twice since Monday and his recounting the truth of what happened and both times Ben has treated him as though he’s fragile. As nice as the tenderness is, it’s not what Alex wants right now.
He leans forward and kisses Ben. Glides his hand around his waist to pull him closer and traces his tongue along the seam of Ben’s mouth. Pulls at the back of his shirt until his fingers are sliding over warm skin. Digs his nails in until Ben moans against his mouth.
Alex stands and pulls him up, leads him to the bedroom. Ben tugs at his hair and he shudders and presses against Ben’s body, gripping his hips tight. Swirls his tongue back into Ben’s mouth, capturing his breath. Groans when Ben bites down on his lower lip.
Frantic, he yanks at Ben’s shirt, pulling it free from his jeans and up over his head and dips his head to run his tongue over bare skin while he tries to unbutton his own shirt. Ben takes over and throws the shirt on the floor.
Alex rubs his hand over the hardness he can feel pressing against him, smiles when Ben whimpers and grinds into his hand. Biting at his neck, Alex fumbles with Ben’s belt buckle until finally he’s pushing Ben’s jeans down. Ben steps out of them and kicks them aside then pulls Alex back into another scorching kiss, kneading and groping the cheeks of his ass.
Still lost in the kiss, Alex manages to get his own jeans off and pull Ben down on to the bed with him. Dances his fingers across Ben’s skin, feeling the muscle ripple and twitch beneath them. Drags his palm the length of Ben’s cock and runs his thumb over the head, rubbing at the bead of clear liquid there, and revels in the strangled cry he gets in response.
“Oh ...” he moans, unable to stop the jerk of his hips, when Ben slides his hand down past his length, fingers dipping further back, probing, and demanding entry.
Then Ben’s mouth is on him, licking and sucking, his fingers working him open at the same time and Alex can’t control the sounds he’s making. Ben’s mouth is hot and wet and driving Alex mad as he lifts his hips up, begging for more. Reaches for Ben and whines in frustration when Ben keeps moving out of reach.
Grabbing Ben’s shoulders, Alex opens his eyes to look up at him, then without warning, wraps his leg around Ben’s and flips him onto his back.
Ben moans; scrapes his nails down Alex’s chest, tracing each muscle. Rubs his thumb over his nipple; Alex gasps at the rough friction. Closing his eyes, he leans forward to close his mouth over Ben’s again. Urgent whisper in his ear and he lifts his hips and takes a deep, heated breath as Ben wraps his arms around him, holding tight, and thrusts up and into him in one smooth movement.
Oh God, there’s too much and too little and he’s too close to the edge to think. Alex clenches his muscles, pulling Ben deeper and holding him there before he trusts himself to move; steady, gentle movements up and back down again, matching Ben’s breathing. Moves Ben’s hand down to his cock, wraps Ben fingers around him, covers them with his own and sets a steady, firm rhythm.
“Oh fuck, you feel so good,” Ben breathes, arching to meet him. “So good, baby.”
He pushes up hard, forcing Alex to lose his balance and thrust into his hand, with a groan. Alex drops down and buries his head in Ben’s shoulder, whimpering and pleading
“Oh ...God....Ben.” Alex shudders as Ben bites and kisses along the line of his shoulder. “Please.”
His body is on fire, skin rippling and tightening at Ben’s touch. As if allowed to use his voice for the first time he begs Ben for more, for deeper, for harder. Ben bites into the tender muscle of his neck, holds for a moment, then sweeps his tongue over the reddening imprint. Oh God, if he keeps doing that, Alex thinks, he’ll come.
“Close…close…Ben,” he pants.
Ben tightens his fist and drives up against him with a low grunt. Pleasure collects at the base of Alex’s spine before beginning to work its way through his body. If feels as though everything is exploding, driving his hips forward and oh God he can’t take any more of this, it’s too much. He cries out as his hips stutter and slickness covers them both, his muscles clasping and tightening around Ben. When he hears Ben curse and cry out against Alex’s skin, shuddering and moaning, he forces his eyes open so he can watch Ben’s face tighten in pleasure, head thrown back, mouth open, hands holding Alex’s hips with enough force to bruise.
Eyes dark and possessive, he watches Ben’s pleasure ripple through him then presses his lips to damp skin and repeats “mine” over and over. .
“Yeah, yours,” Ben says stroking Alex’s hair.
Finally, they separate and lay down, Alex in Ben’s arms, his head on his chest. Ben is murmuring something Alex tries to decipher but he’s already sinking into sleep, feeling safe, satisfied, and loved.