7
is working on a file for a case due in court when Alex’s first text asking if he’s home lights up his phone. He answers ‘yes’ and is surprised by the next one.
‘Could I come over a for a while?’
This is different. All their dates so far have been at Ben’s instigation or by unspoken agreement; Alex has never asked to just come over out of the blue like this. Ben didn’t think they’d see each other today since Alex was spending the afternoon with his family. But he’s more than happy to be wrong and sends back ‘of course’ before getting up to see what there is to eat in the kitchen.
A quick survey of the fridge and pantry turns up a jar of olives, some cheese, half a box of stale cereal, and some left over Chinese take-out from Thursday that he sniffs before throwing out. After a moment’s hesitation, Ben opens a bottle of red wine and phones for pizza. Pepperoni, double cheese, and capers on half, because although he hates the things, Alex loves them.
He’s putting the pizza in the oven to stay warm when Alex buzzes to be let in. When he opens the door, Alex is stepping out of the lift, head bowed, and shoulders slumped. What the hell happened at lunch Ben wonders.
#
Inside, Alex drops on to one of the chrome and leather bar stools, sighing in duet with the cushion. Ben moves behind him and eases his head back to rest against his chest, then leans forward, to drop a gentle kiss on Alex’s mouth.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Better now.” Alex reaches a hand up to rest on Ben’s neck.
“Yeah?” He likes that answer.
“Yeah.”
Ben dips his head and they kiss until they’re interrupted by a long, loud gurgle from Alex’s stomach. Ben pulls away, snorting.
“Did you actually eat or was lunch just an honorary name?” he asks passing Alex one of the glasses and opening the oven door.
“It was a few hours ago and I wasn’t that hungry,” Alex says following Ben into the living room. Ben drops the pizza on the coffee table and goes to shut down his laptop.
“Oh shit, are you working?” Alex asks when he sees what he’s doing. Frowning he puts his glass down and turns toward the door. “You should have said something. I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
Startled, Ben catches his elbow as he moves past him and tries without success to read his face.
“What the hell? Jesus, sit down.”
Doubt clouds Alex’s face. He bites his lip, eyes dark and troubled, as he plays with that damned leather bracelet again. Ben doesn’t know if it’s a tic or what, but whenever Alex is nervous he plays with the thing. Recently Ben has also noticed that if they’re out somewhere and Alex is unnerved he fingers the hem of Ben’s tee-shirt, the need for discretion at war with an obvious need for reassurance. As endearing as it is, Ben is desperate to know what’s behind it, he just isn’t sure how to ask. He leans forward and places a firm kiss on Alex’s mouth.
“Sit,” he orders, smiles when Alex obeys, and pick up his glass. He settles down next to him, opens the pizza box, and hands a slice to Alex who twirls melted mozzarella around his tongue and pulls it into his mouth.
“Keep doing that and you’re going to give me ideas, baby,” Ben says reaching for his own slice.
Alex sniggers and bumps their shoulders together.
“Idiot,” he says and has a mouthful of wine. “I kind of like it when you call me that.”
Ben raises an eyebrow. To his recollection, he’s never used it for anyone before Alex and hasn’t even used it often with him, worried he might be uncomfortable with it. Obviously not.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Alex says, his face now the exact color of his wine. “In my family, we don’t use terms of endearment. Or nicknames or anything. Our parents even refuse to shorten our first names.”
“Really? Wow. I’m not even sure if my mother put Benjamin on my birth certificate; I’ve always just been Ben.”
Ben isn’t sure what else to say; Alex hasn’t talked about his family, other than to mention his brother once or twice. In fact, he always changes the subject when it comes up and now that he’s talking, Ben doesn’t want to put him off.
“When we were kids, we weren’t allowed to call each other Matt and Alex in the house. Or anything else for that matter. I mean we do these days, but our parents don’t.”
Making a sound he hopes is encouraging, Ben goes to get the wine bottle. When he returns, Alex continues without looking at him.
“My family is a bit,” he pauses, reaching for another slice of pizza, “conservative I guess. Not my brother but my parents are very traditional. My mother especially is very religious.”
“Okay.” Ben nods; he has a sinking feeling he knows where this is going. “If it’s not too indelicate to ask, do they know that you’re gay?”
Alex’s huff of laughter has no humor to it at all.
“Oh yeah they know, they don’t like it, but they know.”
“Well you know that’s not that unusual really.”
Alex looks up, eyes filled with sadness and something more intense, something desperate Ben still can’t read. Alex stands and goes to stand by the French doors, looking out at the darkening sky. When he speaks again his voice is so low, Ben struggles to hear him.
“When I was seventeen and they found out, they wanted to throw me out. Only reason they didn’t was because Matt told them they’d never see him again if they did.”
“Jesus,” Ben says, though he’s heard similar stories from other friends. “I’m really sorry.”
“My mother believes homosexuality is an illness that can and should be cured. And that if you don’t want to do that then you’re committing a mortal sin. If you don’t at least try to cure it, you’ll burn in hell and you deserve to. They tried to send me to the conversion camps the church was running until Matt stepped in.”
“What the fuck?” Ben feels as though someone has punched him in the gut. How could this gentle, generous man who stops to greet strange dogs in the street (once nearly giving Ben a heart attack when it was the biggest Rottweiler he’d ever laid eyes on), who spends his day helping children learn how to cope with daily life again, and who has laughed himself into hiccoughs watching Donald Duck cartoons in bed after a particularly satisfying and athletic bout of sex, be the product of that kind of closed minded thinking?
“What century do they live in? I’m amazed you have anything to do with them.”
“They’re my parents,” Alex says as if this is the most obvious thing in the world, “And I couldn’t do that to Matt.”
Ben isn’t sure he cares who they are and if Matt is prepared to forego their company, he thinks maybe Alex should accept the offer. He scratches the back of his neck and tries to gather his thoughts.
“Well, I have to say if I wasn’t resistant to the idea of religion before, I sure as fuck am now,” he says finally, gulping a mouthful of wine and winces when Alex laughs. There’s no humor in the sound.
“I don’t think you should consider my parents to be indicative of modern religion, Ben,” he says. “You know, our childhood was okay. Yeah, they were strict, but we never went without. And they paid for both of us to go to college, so we didn’t have to have loans or anything.”
He emphasizes the word both making Ben wonder how much blackmailing Matt did to achieve that. And okay is hardly reassuring. Who are these people?
“It’s nowhere near as bad as it used to be. I just make sure I’m discreet. It’s one of the reasons I live here. There’s less chance of them seeing me with someone or someone they know seeing me with someone. Not that there have been that many to be seen with.”
This is so unlike Ben’s experience growing up that he feels dazed, as if he’s just been dumped in the surf by a large wave. He only has his mother and his grandmother, and they have only ever shown him love and acceptance. Sure, he’s been on the receiving end of stupidity and discrimination from time to time, but it has only ever come from strangers, not his family. He’s never had to hide or apologize to his family or friends; as this thought occurs to him, so does another.
“Alex,” he says putting his glass down, “is this why you don’t think we can date?”
Alex nods. When he turns to face him, Ben is alarmed to see he’s close to tears. He’s leaning against the wall, biting his lip, throat working, hazel eyes wide with fear. Knocking the pizza box spinning, Ben stands and goes to him, wraps his arms around his waist.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says as Alex’s head drops to his shoulder. “It’s okay.”
“Ben.” The word is little more than a breath against his neck.
“I’ve got you,” he says again, rubbing circles across Alex’s back. For a moment, he allows Alex to simply cling to him, then tilts his head back just enough to be able to look the taller man in the face.
“I’ve never done this before,” Alex says. “Had a relationship, I mean. I’ve never tried to have one.”
Ben’s mouth feels as dry as sandpaper and he licks his lips, waiting for whatever is coming next from the man trembling against him. He slides his hand up and down Alex’s back again, hoping it will calm him.
“My parents will never accept this, and I’ve never felt I could ask someone else to accept them. They’re my parents, for better or for worse, but I can’t ask someone else to –”
His voice cracks and the first tears spill over.
“Alex, can I ask you something?”
After a moment, Alex sniffs and nods.
“Do you like me?”
“Ben…”
“Do. You. Like. Me?” Each word is punctuated with a kiss. He waits.
“Yes,” Alex says finally. “You know I do.”
“Good. Because I really like you and I’d like to try to make this work.”
“It isn’t that simple, Ben.” Alex tries to pull away but Ben tightens his hold.
“I didn’t say it would be, baby.” Sees the deliberate endearment register in Alex’s eyes and grins. “But I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself. You’re not asking me to take on your parents, I’m telling you I want to try.”
Alex still hesitates, and Ben kisses him again.
“I’m a lawyer, I defend crazies for a living. I think I can handle myself.”
“What if ...”
Ben cuts the words off with another kiss.
“I have a what if for you, Alex,” he says, swiping away tears with the pad of his thumb, “what if we try?”
He watches the struggle in Alex’s eyes and says nothing.
“I don’t know how,” Alex whispers.
Ben smiles.
“We’ll figure it out,” he says for what feels like the millionth time since meeting Alex, pleased when it wins him a watery smile.
#
Soft yellow light from the beside lamp isn’t enough to see by, not really but it’s enough to see the important things. Things like the black linen bed cover that needs to be turned back. Things like hazel eyes and dimples and buttons that need to be unbuttoned with deliberation. Light isn’t needed for the faint cherry taste of wine on Alex’s lips or the oily saltiness of pizza and finally, beneath that, the taste Ben recognizes as simply Alex. Tongues touch and Alex makes a low, pleading sound in his throat.
Whispering encouragement, Ben keeps his touch gentle, hoping to transform tension into desire. Before long Alex responds, pressing against him with growing impatience. His hands dart from shoulders to buttock, from thigh to nipple until with a growl Ben grips both and pins them to the pillow.
“Keep still,” he ordered.
Alex bites down on his own lower lip, dimpling the tender skin hard enough to worry Ben that he’ll split it, but obeys and keeps his arms still. Satisfied Ben dips his head and brushes his lips first over the abused lip then down to the skin of Alex’s jawline, and traces the bone with a long, slow sweep of tongue, from chin to ear. Nips at the fleshy lobe and smiles at the whimper rising from beneath him.
Learning to decipher Alex’s near silence had been disconcerting at first. Now, though, Ben enjoys it; it’s a challenge to see how many times he can break through it. How fast he can coax desperate pleas from Alex.
Lips skim Alex’s pulse, murmuring reassurances. Just below the collar bone, skin is sucked hard, then soothed with gentle licks. Thumbs brush over nipples, only to flick back against them until a deep protest escapes. A light trail of warm kisses on cool skin trace the line of hair that mark the trail from Alex’s chest past his navel down to his groin.
Ben traces the network of muscle beneath the skin, intrigued when he sees them twitch at his touch. Presses his thumbs hard against angular hip bones, loving the way Alex jerks up against him. Holds his breath until he feels Alex’s thighs trembling with tension then takes his cock in his mouth, closing his eyes when he hears Alex’s groan. Only then does he begin to bob his head, running his lips and tongue the length of smooth, hard flesh, smiling when impatient hands tug at his hair.
Taking his time, he smooths his palm along the warm skin of Alex’s thigh until he reaches the tight ring of muscle and begins to trace gentle circles with his fingertips until Alex relaxes enough to allow him to push them in. Uses slow, gentle movements until Alex whimpers and grinds down; Ben scissors his fingers, stretching the warm muscles and sucks and finally is rewarded with a loud groan. He crooks his fingers and searches for the bundle of nerves he knows will push Alex closer to the edge. Every movement of his fingers is careful and unhurried, increases only when Ben hears what he is waiting for.
“Ben … like that … yes there…oh God …please.”
Alex jerks up, thrusting into Ben’s mouth, then back down on his fingers. Curious to see what will happen, Ben pulls off, so he can speak.
“What do you want?” he asks.
Alex whines the word ‘please’ and tries to push Ben’s head back down. Resisting him, Ben decides to take a chance.
“Tell me what you want.”
Ben knows he is talking about more than just the sex and for a second, worries he’s gone too far. Then Alex pulls on his shoulders.
“You,” he says answering both questions before letting his head drop back and moaning, “Oh fuck … Ben… please…I want you.”
Groaning Ben sits back on his heels, fighting for control as he smooths lube over his cock and leans forward to slide his fingers back in for a moment, then guides himself in. As always, Alex catches his breath, tenses for a second, then relaxes, locking his ankles behind Ben’s knees and tilting up to meet him as he sinks in, in one steady thrust. Clenches enough for Ben to feel it, groan, and attack Alex’s swollen mouth with tongue and teeth, kissing and biting the last of his reticence away.
Thrusting with deep, controlled movements, Ben trembles when Alex releases and tightens his muscles around him again, moaning when he is pulled deeper. Circling his hips, he presses forward until he feels Alex’ swollen prostate, presses against it, aware he’s close to losing control. Slides his hand between them and begins to stroke Alex’s cock.
“Ben,” Alex pleads, voice wrecked and desperate. “Ben ... don’t stop … please...”
On a hunch, Ben leans down until his mouth is against Alex’s ear.
“Come for me, baby,” he says.
Exactly as Ben hoped, Alex cries out as he arches up, digging his fingers into Ben’s back, pulsing and spilling over Ben’s hand. His body locks around Ben and for a moment the sensory overload is so intense Ben thinks he might pass out; his vision dances as his own orgasm tears through him. When it finally eases, he collapses on Alex’s chest, ignoring the stickiness between them. A disapproving sound from the mouth resting against his temple stops him moving and he closes his eyes. Eventually, Alex stirs.
“I should probably head home.”
Ben withdraws with a hiss, before dropping onto his back and gathering Alex against him.
“Stay,” he says.
“I have work ...”
“You can shower here in the morning; I’ll drive you to your place, so you can get changed and then take you to work.”
Alex is silent.
“Stay,” Ben says again and when he feels Alex’s arms tighten around him, kisses the top of his head. “Please.”
Alex stays.
#