The Square Peg (37 page)

but he could see the appeal if it meant being with Benedict like this.

“Not all of it. Have you seen
Queer as Folk
?” Benedict sounded distracted, which

was Shane’s intention.

He licked Benedict’s skin and grinned when Benedict’s cock hardened under his

cheek. “Tell me about it.” There was something incredibly appealing about the thought

of sucking Benedict’s cock while he tried to explain something, of hearing his voice

crack and his breath catch.

In the kitchen, what Shane assumed was the microwave made a beeping sound.

“Maybe later,” Benedict said.

Shane could put a commanding note in his voice too, but when he said, “No.

Definitely later,” it came out as a plea. “Need you,” he added and found he didn’t care

how desperate he sounded, because it was no more or less than the truth.

“Later,” Benedict said, and made it a promise.

After Shane had dutifully eaten the best part of what was on his plate, he carried it

out to the kitchen and rinsed it, listening out for Vincent, who’d gone to the loo. When

he heard Vincent walking by, he called to him.

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“Yes, boss?”

“You don’t have to call me that now.”

“Still true.” Vincent shrugged. “Might have to get a temp job somewhere else, but

as soon as you’re up and running again, I’ll be back.”

“Wouldn’t be the Peg without you.”

“I do give the place some street cred,” Vincent agreed.

“Well, that’s a matter of opinion, but fine, if you say so.” Shane beckoned Vincent

closer. “Look, I don’t want to kick you out when you live here, but if you had

somewhere to be for a few hours…”

Vincent’s mouth dropped open. “Are you asking me to disappear so you can have

sex?”

“If you even think the word
gross
, you’re fired.”

“Hey, just because I don’t do it doesn’t mean I mind other people getting naked

and sweaty. You and Ben are great together. I don’t want to think about what you get

up to because it’d be weird, but I’m all in favor.”

“Good to know.” Shane eyed Vincent, curiosity getting the better of him. “So why

don’t you?” he asked. “I know you had a thing for that boy you knew in high school,

but you can’t have him, so isn’t it time you moved on?”

Vincent’s eyes hardened as if Shane had crossed a line, but then he sighed,

reaching up to play with one of his earrings, the dragon, the one that always hung from

that hole, though the other earrings changed frequently. “Would you move on from Ben

if he dumped you? Find someone else and forget about him?”

Shane sighed and shook his head. It wasn’t possible to compare a high school

crush to what he had with Benedict, but it wasn’t as if he could say that to Vincent

without sounding like a prick. He settled for saying, “It’s a long time go without. That’s

all I’m saying.”

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“Gets easier after a while,” Vincent said, grinning and patting his upper arm.

“Don’t worry, I’m going. Have fun and never, ever tell me about it.”

“Never,” Shane agreed.

Benedict came out of the dining room holding two plastic bags as the front door

was closing. “Was that Vin? Why aren’t you sitting down?”

“Yeah. Benedict, I had a bit of smoke inhalation. I’m not a paraplegic.” Shane

gestured at the bags. “What’ve you got there?”

“Some stuff Shelly picked up for you,” Benedict said. “Come on, let’s go in the

living room, and I’ll show you. Did Vin say where he was going?”

“Out, I suppose. Said he’d be back later.” Shane sat on the sofa and watched as

Benedict took a package of briefs out of one of the bags. “Christ, you had Shelly buying

me underwear?”

“It’s not a dildo,” Benedict said mildly. “She offered.”

“She offered to buy me underwear?” That was a disturbing thought.

“Not specifically, but you needed it. And here are some jeans—hopefully the size

will work. I based it off your old ones. Shirts, socks—we can get you whatever else you

need, but this is something to start with.” Benedict looked at him. “Are you tired? We

should probably get you into the bath for a soak.”

Shane smiled. “I’m not tired,” he said slowly. “But I’ll have a bath if you’ll keep

me company.”

Benedict raised his eyebrows, already smiling. “Why do I get the feeling you’re

trying to seduce me?”

“Because I am? And if I have to try any harder, I’ll start thinking you’ve gone off

me.”

“Never going to happen.” Benedict bit his lip. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“No,” Shane said and slid off the couch to his knees, bracing his hands on

Benedict’s thigh. “Dying of frustration. It’s making my legs go weak, see?”

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“Get up,” Benedict said, laughing, but with something in his eyes that told Shane

Benedict liked seeing him down here.

Shane rested his head on Benedict’s leg, loving the feeling of peace that washed

through him when Benedict stroked his hair at once, the caress gentle without being

hesitant. “I want to be with you. I know we can’t push it as much as we usually do, but

it doesn’t mean we have to act as if we’re just good friends.”

“I suppose not.” Benedict’s voice was already husky with arousal, his fingers

sliding to the back of Shane’s neck, making Shane shiver and close his eyes, pleasure

replacing peace, as they curled around it possessively. “Those bruises I put on you—

they’re still there?”

“Along with a few new ones.”

Benedict’s fingers tightened until Shane had to moan, the sound slipping from

him as easily as a breath. “They don’t count. Do they?”

“No. No, they don’t.”

“Good.” Benedict dragged his fingertips up into the hair at the nape of Shane’s

neck. “Come on. Let’s get you into the tub.”

Ten minutes later, Shane was lying with his back against Benedict’s chest, arse

between Benedict’s spread thighs, in hot water up to his collarbone. The heat had been

on the verge of unbearable at first, but Shane trusted Benedict to know what would

help, and the thought of soaking the ache out of his muscles would have been appealing

even if it hadn’t been coupled with being pressed to Benedict’s naked body.

“Relax,” Benedict murmured into his ear.

“Not sure I have much choice in the matter.” Shane sighed in appreciation as

Benedict slid a hand down his chest.

“That was my evil plan.” Benedict’s hand moved an inch lower.

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“You don’t have to get me into the bath to have your way with me,” Shane

pointed out. He closed his eyes and focused on the feel of the hot water and Benedict’s

touch. Fuck, he was hard already.

Benedict licked the edge of Shane’s ear. “I can have my way with you whenever I

want,” he agreed.

“How did you manage before? When you weren’t with someone like me?”

The lick became a bite, the tiny darting pain making Shane hiss with pleasure.

“There isn’t anyone else like you,” Benedict told him.

“That’s not an answer.”

He felt Benedict’s reluctance as clearly as if he could see the frown he was sure

was puckering Benedict’s forehead. The body he lay against shifted restlessly; then

Benedict sighed. “I didn’t know I wanted this.”

“You had to. On one level, at least.”

“Did you?” Benedict countered.

“I tried to get it, but I didn’t know what to ask for, not really, so it didn’t work out

all that well.” Shane moved his hand slowly through the clear water, feeling the

resistance as it pushed against his palm. “It was frustrating as fuck.”

“If it ever is with me, I want you to tell me.”

Shane smiled, unseen. “That an order?”

Benedict’s hand was resting low enough on Shane’s stomach now that another

inch south, and he’d be touching the head of Shane’s cock. Maybe if Shane moved…

Even as Shane thought it, Benedict slid his hand sideways to one of the bruises he’d

caused, dark on Shane’s hipbone. Benedict ground his thumb against it, awakening a

throbbing pain that had Shane’s cock hardening with a twitch and a jerk.

“Oh yes,” Benedict said. “It definitely is.”

“Touch me,” Shane begged. “Make me come.”

“That sounded like an order. It doesn’t work that way.”

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251

“How does me groveling sound like a fucking order?” Shane snapped.

“When you don’t say
please
.”

Oh. Right. Shane let his hands sink under the surface of the water until they came

to rest on Benedict’s thighs. Slowly, he pushed backward against Benedict’s erection

until Benedict gasped. Then he said, “Please touch me.”

Benedict let his fingers linger over Shane’s bruise. “Tell me when you think about

me.”

“When I—” Shane broke off when Benedict’s hand closed around him. “All the

time. I think about you every time I think about anything. Your hands, like this. Your

prick, inside me.”

Benedict groaned and squeezed, his grip tugging upward along Shane’s shaft. “I

think about that too. And about sucking you.” His lips dragged along the side of

Shane’s throat. “Holding you down.”

“Don’t stop,” Shane pleaded. “Christ. Benedict.”

“I’m not stopping.” Benedict’s hand was moving steadily now, his thumb slipping

over the head of Shane’s cock deliciously. “I don’t want to stop. I want you to come like

this.”

“Going to be soon if you keep doing that.”

“Thanks for the warning, but I’m not feeling patient.” Benedict bit down on

Shane’s shoulder, the softness of his lips making the sharp dig of his teeth more intense

by comparison. “Don’t keep me waiting, Shane. I want to see you. Feel you shudder,

hear you moan.”

“God—” He was gasping for breath, his skin flushing from more than the heat of

the water. “Please. Faster.”

The slow rock of Benedict’s wrist didn’t change tempo. “No. You can come from

this. I can feel how ready you are.”

“Need—”

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“You need me,” Benedict told him, the rhythm of his strokes unrelenting. “You’ve

got me. I’m not going anywhere, Shane. Now come for me.”

Shane cried out at the command, closing his eyes and riding out his climax, held

safe in Benedict’s arms, his world reduced to heat and water and the strong body

cradling him. He felt the warm, light rain of spunk against his damp chest, barely

noticeable.

“My Shane,” Benedict whispered into his ear and moved his hand, gently rinsing

Shane clean. “Mine.”

For once, Shane had no reason to argue with Benedict. He nodded. “Yeah. Yours.”

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Epilogue

Ben dragged a stool behind the bar and slumped on it. His feet were aching. It was

a good ache—the kind that came from hard work—but it was still a relief to get off

them for a few minutes. The bar was crowded, the bartenders working feverishly and

Dave dropping one basket of french fries after another in the kitchen. The smell of crisp,

salty potatoes filled the air, and according to Shane it increased the number of drinks

people bought.

Dave wasn’t alone back there. They’d hired two new people to help him because

business was going so well. No matter how dedicated the staff was to the bar, none of

them was crazy about the idea of working a hundred hours a week. Somehow Shane

had found a young British woman who was full of ideas and suggestions but managed

to express them without offending Dave.

“Christ, I’m tired,” Shane said into Ben’s ear, and Ben felt the warmth of his

partner’s chest lean against him.

“You can go home,” Ben said. He checked his watch. “Patrick and Helen’s shift

starts in half an hour, and I can hang out until later.”

Shane shook his head—Ben felt it rather than saw it—and said, “Not that tired.”

“We don’t both have to be here all the time.” Ben stood, nudged Shane down onto

the stool, and started to rub his shoulders. Truth be told, Ben loved being at the bar,

even when he was tired. Since they’d reopened—again—six weeks ago, he’d officially

left his office job and thrown himself full-time into running the bar with Shane. He’d

even taken a weeklong intensive class at a bartending school and gotten his national

liability certification. Even though his getting qualified hadn’t been a surprise to Shane

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the way Ben had originally imagined, he knew Shane was proud of him. Which was

why Shane’s next words came as a surprise, even if they were said mildly.

“If I’m not here, who knows what’s going to happen to the place?” Shane said.

“You don’t trust me?” Considering what they’d done together on their last joint

day off, it wasn’t really a question he needed to ask. He remembered the yielding

quiver Shane had given as Ben finished tying him down, any pretense at reluctance just

that. Ben wasn’t under any illusions, though; Shane would surrender his body willingly