Chapter Twenty-three

IT WAS strange for Liam to have Ben in his apartment, as if past and present had collided into a not quite coherent whole. Strange, but not bad. Not necessarily.

“Eric Wilton’s a good guy,” Liam said. Maybe it wasn’t kind, but maybe he wasn’t feeling all that kind. He paced restlessly around the living room while Ben stood and stared at him. “And he’s gorgeous and sexy and he’d be good for my career. And I walked away from him tonight. No, wait. I didn’t walk away. I had the fucking nerve to ask him to give me and another guy a ride to my apartment in his damn limousine. So if this is another one of your teases, Ben? If this is another hello-goodbye, push-me-pull-me mind fuck? You should expect me to not be impressed.”

“It’s not that,” Ben said. He sounded strained, as if he was operating on too much adrenaline and not enough sleep. And he kind of looked that way too.

“So what is it?” Liam was suddenly almost as tired as Ben looked. “What are you doing here?”

“I came because—” He stopped and turned away.

“Yeah. Great. You came because you didn’t want the angst to be over. You don’t want to actually do anything, don’t want to have anything to do with me, but you want to make sure I keep on—”

Ben moved fast for someone who looked so worn out. Across the room in only a few steps, jerking to a stop in front of Liam, raising a hand toward his face, then catching himself and lowering the hand before saying, “I want you. I want—us. I don’t know what—no, I do know what was in the way. I was scared. Scared of being hurt. Again.”

Liam stood frozen. It sounded like Ben wanted—but it had sounded like that before. And Ben had pushed Liam away those times. Who was to say he wouldn’t do it again?

“And now you’re scared,” Ben said. There wasn’t much humor in his short laugh. “For good reason, just like I had good reason. But at some point we just have to—don’t we? Don’t we just have to get past that? I know I’m no one to talk, but I think I’m right anyway.”

“Could you—” Liam swallowed hard. “I need you to spell this out for me. You’re here because….”

“I’m here because I want to be with you. I have no idea about the details. I mean, you live in the city, I live in the sticks, and that’s not too convenient. And there’s no way I’m going to be good for your career, so if that’s what you’re looking for in a guy, I guess I’m not a prime candidate. But… I miss you. I’ve been missing you for fifteen years, but I managed to convince myself I was missing a memory, a dream, an idealized version of someone who never really existed. But you came back, and—fuck, Liam, you’re not ideal. You’re a pain in the ass and you make me crazy and you totally destroy my Zen. But I still miss you. I still want you. You.”

Ben stopped talking and took a half step backward. “Shit. Sorry. That was a lot. And I’m totally embarrassed now, and I want to start running away or making up a cover story or doing whatever I can to make myself feel less open, less vulnerable, less… less honest. Because it would be really, really nice if I was feeling a bit calmer right now. But I’m trying not to do any of that. I’m trying to be brave.”

“You’re doing a good job,” Liam said. His voice was huskier than he’d expected. “You’re right. It is scary, and I’ve given you every reason to not trust me. But for what it’s worth? I absolutely, completely learned my lesson. I did something—well. I was going to say unforgivable, but I’m really hoping that isn’t quite true. But unforgettable, at least. For me. I’m always going to remember what I did, and I’m never going to do it again.”

“Okay.” Ben nodded. “Okay. But—you will hurt me. Not on purpose, but you will. And probably I’ll hurt you too. That’s just what happens. Maybe nothing big, but even if it is, I can survive it. You can survive it. It’s better to take the chance than to sit around afraid to try.”

“Who’ve you been talking to? Calvin?”

“Partly. But not just him.” Ben shook his head. “I can tell you the whole story, if you want. But I feel like I’m maybe going to pass out from stress pretty soon. Could you just—can you tell me? Am I too late? You were right about Eric Wilton. Well, I don’t know if he’s a good guy, but the rest of it? I can’t really compete with—”

Well, no words would tell Ben what he needed to know. Liam stepped forward instead, wrapped a hand around the back of Ben’s neck, tugged just a little, and kissed him. Slow and deep, with every bit of truth and love he could summon. And Ben kissed him back with just as much sweet sincerity.

Which was nice. It was more than nice. But it wasn’t enough.

Liam pulled free long enough to ask, “Can you stay? You’re not going to take off? And I mean, stay. Not forever, I get that—we’ll have to figure all that out. But for breakfast at least. Maybe lunch, or even dinner? Like—stay a while. Don’t run away, and don’t push me away. Can you do that?”

Ben’s eyes were wide, but he nodded. And Liam believed him.

There was no rush after that. They stayed in the living room for quite a while, clothes on, kissing and swaying in a sort of music-less dance. When they needed more skin, more contact, they made their way to the bedroom and lay down on the bed, and Liam wedged his thigh between Ben’s just as he used to, decades earlier when they still weren’t ready to go too far.

Ben’s lips, his cheeks, his ears, his neck, his chest, his rib cage—Liam needed to explore every part, needed to touch and kiss and taste and let himself sink back into the new/old familiarity. He needed to hear Ben’s whispered words, his gentle huffs of laughter when Liam found a ticklish spot, his sharp inhalations when Liam’s explorations found other kinds of sensitivity.

The cool light of dawn was leaking past the curtains before they were completely naked, and it was full day by the time Liam finally let himself sink into Ben’s body and complete their dance. They moved together slowly, almost sleepily, easy and gentle even as their climaxes built. At the end, as Ben gasped into Liam’s mouth, as they arched together and then apart and then together again, they were as close to perfection as they’d ever been together. Maybe as close as they ever could be.

They dozed afterward, comfortable and cozy, until hunger drove them to the kitchen to forage for sustenance. They stood together, staring into the fridge as if it held the secrets of the universe, until Ben said, “You don’t have any food.”

“There’s cheese. And milk. I’m well supplied from a dairy perspective.”

“You need some fruit. And some grains.” Ben leaned back into Liam’s arms. “I’ll bring groceries next time I come.”

Such a simple statement. Such a simple promise. But it was enough to make Liam’s chest ache in a wonderful way. “Okay,” he agreed, turning to bury his lips in the crook of Ben’s neck. “You’ll bring groceries. In the meantime, should we order in?”

“Breakfast? Does breakfast get delivered?”

“This is New York City. Everything gets delivered.”

“Okay. You order us food. I’ll have a shower. And I’m going to have to give Uncle Calvin a call. He’ll want to know how things turned out.”

“Not with details, I hope?”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he’d want any details I cared to share. But, no, I won’t give him much. Do you have stuff you need to do today?”

Liam had work. Lots and lots of it. But he shook his head. “Not ‘need,’ no. Not if you’re still okay to stick around.”

Ben smiled. “You’re going to have a hard time getting rid of me.”

“I’m not even going to try,” Liam replied. And he didn’t.