The Square Peg (9 page)

no hair to grab, but Ben could still cradle Shane’s head in his palm and tilt it until the

line of Shane’s neck was a taut, inviting curve. He set his teeth into that curve and bit it,

sucking at the captured skin until it felt hot against his tongue. Shane’s hands flailed at

him, curses spilling out of Shane’s mouth. He might have stopped if Shane hadn’t been

grinding his erection against Ben’s leg, riding his thigh.

He eased back when Shane’s hands settled onto his ass, urging him closer, some

begging mixed in with the swearing, Shane pliant enough against him that Ben knew

Shane’s head would stay tilted even without his hand holding it in place.

Jenson had never let Ben lead the dance like this. He’d gotten snappy if Ben had

asked for a blowjob with Jenson on his knees, saying it was demeaning and insisting it

happen on the bed, both of them lying down. But Jenson seemed like a shadow fading

in the sunlight now, a vague memory, not a recent heartbreak.

Shane filled Ben’s senses, overwhelming him. He’d never wanted anyone this

much, this intensely. If they’d been in the bar downstairs, a hundred people watching,

he’d still have kissed Shane like this. Hell, he’d have bent Shane over the fucking bar

and slid his cock into that tight, firm ass, telling the crowd to hush so they could all hear

Shane’s desperate, anguished, pleading groans of pleasure as he was fucked.

The thought of fucking Shane in public, with an audience, made Ben shudder. He

was caught between wanting to tug Shane’s shirt off him and not wanting to move

away far enough to make it possible. He settled for shoving it upward and rubbing

knuckles over Shane’s spine until Shane gasped into his open mouth. It was good to

know he wasn’t the only one into this; it made Ben a little bit crazy.

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“God, I want to fuck you,” he growled into Shane’s ear. “Turn you around and do

it right here.” He couldn’t imagine stopping his slow, grinding thrusts against Shane’s

pelvic bone long enough to relocate.

“Yeah?” Shane threaded his fingers through Ben’s hair and kissed him harder.

Fuck stubble burn. They were both going to have bruises at this rate, not that Ben cared.

What he wanted was for Shane to say yes, to give him some hint there was a

chance of more than what they were currently doing. He’d met guys who wouldn’t be

the receiving partner, guys who didn’t fuck at all, but kept their activity to handjobs

and oral sex. If Shane said rutting against each other fully clothed was as far as he’d go,

Ben would accept it. But he wanted more.

Shane moved his mouth to the side, breaking the kiss. “Want to make me bend…”

It took a moment to remember his words to Shane the day before, spoken

unthinkingly, regretted immediately. Now he was wondering if he’d been speaking a

wish aloud, because yes, that was exactly it.

“I want to make you beg.” Had he said that? To Shane, tough-as-nails, hard-as-

rock Shane? Maybe he had a death wish, but he didn’t feel boring now. Just wild, free,

and horny as hell.

Shane choked on a sound that wasn’t a scornful laugh, but more of a needy groan,

smothered quickly. He tipped his head back so Ben could see his face, the craving in his

pale eyes, the stark hunger there, a flush of arousal suffusing his skin.

“Make me…” It hung between them, the inflection at the end almost a question, as

if Shane had gone as far as he dared and needed a push.

Ben could push Shane. Oh God, yes, he could.

“You’ve got condoms, lube in here somewhere. Get them and get your ass back

here so I can fuck it.”

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Shane’s eyes slid closed, his breathing ragged. Ben put his hand against Shane’s

cheek and ran his thumb over that trembling lower lip, dragging his thumb back and

forward until Shane whined a protest, arching against Ben, rubbing off on him.

“Get them,” Ben said. “And get naked too.”

He didn’t let himself tremble until Shane had left the room. When he did, he had

to brace himself on the counter with both hands. He was so fucking hard. Ben took a

couple of slow, deep breaths and unfastened the front of his pants, reaching inside to

grip his cock in his fist. He couldn’t chance stroking himself, because he didn’t want to

get any closer to the edge than he already was, and he wanted this to last as long as

possible.

Shane came back and paused in the doorway. His expression didn’t give him

away—he didn’t look worried or anxious or eager—but every other part of him did,

and his gaze went immediately to Ben’s hand around his cock.

Ben didn’t take his hand away, but he did turn slightly toward Shane to get a

better look at him. Shane swallowed as Ben’s gaze took in his bare skin. Not a lot of

body hair, wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and hips. Muscular thighs. Hard

cock upright, flushed.

“Come here,” Ben said, and Shane obeyed, setting the lube and a strip of condoms

on the counter.

“Let me do that?” Shane offered, reaching for Ben’s hand and cock. Ben let his

hand fall to his side, all the permission Shane needed. Shane sank to his knees and

pressed his face to the front of Ben’s slacks, rubbing his cheek against Ben’s thigh. Ben

wondered what it would feel like to have Shane suck him off right there, hot mouth

wrapped around him.

Shane slid his hand into Ben’s, linking them, then kissed the swell of Ben’s cock

though the fabric of his pants. “Want to get this in my mouth before it goes in my arse.

Gonna let me?”

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Ben bit back a fervent “God, yes!” and used his free hand to caress Shane’s head,

the short hair soft when he stroked in one direction, a rougher prickle of stubble against

his palm the other way. “Maybe. Ask me nicely. Maybe I don’t want to give you

anything. Maybe I just want to use you.”

Shane glanced up at him, a flicker of amusement showing, knowing, complicit, as

if he guessed how new Ben was to these games, and didn’t care because it was turning

him on as much as it was Ben. “So use my mouth first.” Shane’s fingers tightened; then

his grip slackened and his hand slid free, coming to rest, like his other, on his thighs.

“Please,” he said with deliberation, never looking away from Ben’s eyes.

Feeling as if he were caught in a dream, Ben took out his cock and pushed it

slowly between Shane’s willing lips. Shane’s tongue moved as he swallowed around

the shaft, and Ben thrust deeper to feel it, heat and slick flesh clinging as if it welcomed

him, wanted him there. “Good,” he murmured. “You’re so good.”

Shane tilted his head a little bit to improve the angle, then pulled back with a soft

suction that made Ben’s balls draw up. He wished Shane could do this and talk to him

at the same time. There was something about Shane’s accent that did it for him, made

him hot and bothered. Ben knew he was in a world of trouble, standing in Shane’s

kitchen with Shane on his knees, but he couldn’t end the encounter. He was falling,

only one direction open to him.

“You like this,” he said, and Shane made a muffled sound of assent before pulling

his mouth away. Ben’s cock, wet with saliva, bobbed in the suddenly cool air as Shane

licked and sucked on his balls. “You want me to fuck you.”

Shane groaned and ran his tongue up to the tip of Ben’s cock, licking the slit.

“Yeah.”

That was good enough for Ben. He’d had a plan in his head about having Shane

put the condom on for him, then fucking him standing beside the counter, but suddenly

he didn’t care about his plan. He grabbed a condom and smoothed it on, shivering at

the way the latex felt over damp skin, then slicked his fingers with lube and got down

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on the floor next to Shane. He kissed him, just once, then pushed Shane down onto his

hands and knelt behind him, opening him with gentle fingers as Shane gasped and

cursed.

“For God’s sake, get on with it.” Shane trembled and pushed back, forcing Ben’s

knuckles deeper inside him.

Ben pulled his fingers free and lined himself up. With one hand on Shane’s hip, he

eased himself forward through taut muscles that tried to keep him out. “Fuck. God.

”Shane was so tight, clenched around him, trembling. “Okay?” No answer. “Shane. Are

you okay?”

“Yes.” It was a growl, raw and low, and it made Ben shiver, the urge to shove in

deep and claim the strong body under him close to an imperative. With control sliding

through his hands like water, he took a deep breath and drew back, then pushed in

again, gaining ground. The smooth, tight clench of Shane’s hole felt incredible. Jesus,

it’d been so long since he’d felt this, and now he wondered why he’d ever let himself be

persuaded to always be the one where Shane was.

Though as he reached around to map the thrust of Shane’s cock, the soft, liquid

roll of his balls, Ben knew he would want Shane to fuck him at some point. He saw

Shane lying under him as he rode Shane’s cock slowly, languid rolls of his hips, Shane

tied down to the bed, his eyes wide…

Throwing caution to the wind, Ben moved faster and more roughly, driving

himself into Shane’s body with enough force that Shane’s knees shifted on the floor

beneath them. He tugged at Shane, pulling him upright so they were both on their

knees. There was something glorious about being able to thrust up into him and bite the

tender spot between neck and shoulder at the same time, hand still wrapped around

Shane’s erection to coax him closer to the edge.

Shane was whining with every thrust and grinding down onto Ben’s cock, but

when he started to come, it surprised Ben anyway. The dick in his hand pulsed, warm

slickness trickling down over his knuckles, and Shane’s ass clenched ever more tightly

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around Ben’s cock. “Fuck, fuck,” Ben chanted, squeezing his eyes shut and shoving

himself deeper.

“Yeah, come on.” Shane turned his head and kissed the corner of Ben’s mouth.

“Don’t want to.” Ben panted desperately, trying to hold off his climax. “Not yet.”

“Want to feel you let go.”

And he could, couldn’t he? Shane didn’t seem to care that they were fucking on

the floor, Shane’s knees chafed from friction, his skin marked from Ben’s teeth. Shane

was reaching back to scrabble at Ben’s thigh, urging him to speed up, go deeper.

“Fuck me,” Shane said through his teeth. “God, give yourself that, will you?”

Ben wrapped his hand around the back of Shane’s neck, where the skin was damp

from sweat, and hot, so fucking hot. He pushed Shane’s head toward the floor, Shane

going with it. It changed the angle just enough that the next thrust of Ben’s cock went a

fraction deeper, drawing a grunt from them both. The sight of Shane bent over, offering

himself up to be fucked in an undeniably submissive pose was intoxicating. Ben wanted

to howl out his triumph, but he couldn’t spare the breath for more than a few

inarticulate words.

“Fuck. You’re making me… Shane—”

He came in a hot rush that left him starved for oxygen and light-headed as a

result, shoving his dick into Shane’s willing body a few more times as the last shudder

gripped him. He had to hang on to Shane, or he would have collapsed to the floor. Once

he’d gotten himself a little more under control, he eased free of Shane’s ass and did it

anyway, the scuffed wood blessedly solid and cool against his skin.

“I think,” he said, a gasp between every few words, “this is the first time I’ve ever

had splinters in my knees.”

“First time for everything,” Shane observed, lying down next to him with a wince.

“Lord, this floor’s bloody hard.”

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“And splintery.” Ben turned his head to look at Shane. “So this isn’t a common

occurrence?”

“Letting someone fuck me on the floor of my kitchen?” Shane snorted. “Not

common, no.”

Ben smiled and let his eyes close for a few seconds.

Good.

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Chapter Six

Rob kicked at the wall with a foot that looked giant-size in his steel-capped

workman’s boots. “This comes out, and the ceiling comes down. We can’t take it

down.”

Shane scrubbed his hands over his face. Monday mornings were usually his lie-in

day, the only chance he had to catch up on a sleep debt he’d probably die still owing.

Getting up at seven to show Rob Carson around wasn’t his idea of a fun replacement

for a luxurious snooze.

Nothing would be. Well, maybe waking up with someone next to him, all warm

and randy, ready to start the day with a bang. Benedict would’ve done nicely, turned

down a notch, maybe, but Benedict had pulled his trousers back up, washed his hands,