Winter Oranges (20 page)

“It feels real to me,” Jason said, his voice hoarse with desire.

Ben shuddered, his eyes shining, tears still flowing unchecked down his cheeks.

“What is it?” Jason asked.

“Nobody’s touched me,” Ben whispered, his chin quivering. “Not for one hundred and fifty years.”

Jason felt like a fool, rushing forward without a thought for how overwhelming it must be for Ben. And yet, he couldn’t let him go. He couldn’t stop touching him. Not now, when they were finally able to feel each other.

“Tell me if I need to stop.”

“No,” Ben gasped. “Not ever.”

And then, before Ben could say another word, Jason kissed him.

It was only a kiss, and yet it was momentous. The way Ben hung on to him like he was afraid of drowning. The way his lips, wet and salty with tears, parted beneath Jason’s. The soft whimpering sound he made when Jason’s tongue nudged gently inside. It was like heaven, and Jason went slow, doing his best to rein in his desire and his impatience, focusing instead on this one simple pleasure—kissing a man who hadn’t been kissed in more than a century. He kissed Ben until he feared he’d lose his self-control—until the desire to push Ben down onto the couch and rip off his clothes became almost too much to resist—and then Jason finally pulled away, breathing hard.

Ben’s lips, so gorgeously pink before, were now red and swollen, and Jason moaned with desire at the sight.

Ben clutched Jason’s shirt. “Why are you stopping?”

“Because I’m trying not to rush.”

“I don’t care if you do.”

“You deserve better than that.”

Ben laughed through his tears, shaking his head. “I don’t care what you think I deserve. I know what I want.”

The confession thrilled Jason. It was clear they both yearned for the exact same thing, but that didn’t mean he had to be clumsy about it.

He wanted to use his hands, but Ben seemed so weak. Jason was afraid to let him go. He wasn’t sure Ben would even be able to stay standing. He carefully loosened his grip, testing Ben’s stability. Ben swayed a bit on his feet but didn’t fall, and Jason began to unbutton Ben’s rough-woven shirt, revealing his pale, thin chest. Ben’s father had described him as “runty.” Jason would never have used that word, but Ben’s narrow waist and protruding ribs only emphasized how terribly young he was.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” Jason said, his hands and his voice both shaking.

“I’ll never forgive you if you stop now.” It was said lightly, but Jason had a feeling it was true, whether Ben knew it or not.

“But you’re so young. You’re not even twenty-one yet. You’re practically a kid.”

“Says the man who’s too young to remember
Hill Street Blues
.”

“Point taken.” He still wasn’t sure it was right, but then he thought about Ben’s words.

Nobody’s touched me. Not for one hundred and fifty years. I know what I want.

He wasn’t going to deny Ben something so simple as being touched. Especially not when he was so desperate to kiss Ben again. To actually hold him in his arms as Ben moaned in pleasure. He finally slid Ben’s shirt back, off of his shoulders. Ben shivered as it fell to the floor, leaving him bare from the waist up.

Jason started slow. He traced his fingertips gently down Ben’s arm, and Ben sighed with delight, goose bumps rising on his flesh. Jason kept going, past Ben’s wrist to the back of his hand, letting his caress take him to the tip of Ben’s longest finger, and all the while Ben stood stock-still, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow, seemingly entranced at the feel of it.

Jason moved to stand behind Ben. He let his fingers stray up Ben’s arm to his shoulder, across the nape of Ben’s neck, which made him shiver again, down his spine to the V at the back of his high-waisted trousers. He trailed his fingers up and down Ben’s body, trying to touch each part of his back and shoulders and arms. When he could stand it no longer, Jason put a hand on each of Ben’s slim biceps, stepping close, fighting the urge to push his erection against Ben’s backside. He partially succeeded. He kissed the back of Ben’s neck, heard the sharp intake of Ben’s breath as he leaned into Jason, tilting his head to allow easier access to the tender space below his ear.

“Here,” he whispered. “You promised to kiss me here.”

Jason made good on that promise, sucking and nipping softly at Ben’s neck, reminding himself again to go slow. He ventured one hand toward Ben’s stomach. His abdomen jumped at Jason’s touch, his breath jerking violently.

“Shh,” Jason soothed, worrying that he should stop, but Ben’s breathless whimpers told him no, this was fine. Better than fine. It was good. It was wonderful. New and scary and probably a bit overwhelming, but absolutely welcome. Jason kept one hand on Ben’s stomach, and with the other, he brushed his fingers over one of Ben’s erect nipples.

“Oh,” Ben breathed, his voice full of surprise. “Oh . . .”

He leaned back heavily against Jason, pushing his chest forward against Jason’s exploring hand until he followed suit on the other side, using both hands to roll Ben’s nipples between his fingers until Ben was moaning desperately, his erection tenting his heavy wool pants.

Jason turned Ben around so they were face-to-face, Ben’s sweet, red lips open in a breathless pout, his eyes half-lidded with desire. Jason kissed him, his arousal surging at the feel of Ben’s slim body against his. This time, Ben didn’t jump when Jason’s fingertips touched his stomach. This time, he moaned and rose onto his toes, pushing against Jason eagerly, wrapping his arms around Jason’s neck.

“Yes,” he whispered into Jason’s frantic kisses, as Jason’s fingers moved downward. “Yes, yes, yes . . .”

Jason fumbled the buttons of Ben’s trousers open one-handed. He was surprised to find a second pair of pants underneath them, seemingly identical except they were of thin cotton rather than course wool. He tore those buttons open too. And finally, he slid his hand inside.

Ben shuddered, gasping, as Jason’s fingers brushed his erection. “Oh God,” Ben whispered, burying his face in Jason’s neck, seemingly unable to even hold himself up any longer. “Oh God!”

And Jason lost all sense of himself. He simply held Ben, kissing his neck, breathing in his scent, moving his hand gently up and down Ben’s length. He was dying to undress Ben all the way. To get down on his knees and truly explore Ben’s uncut cock, but Ben was overwhelmed, clinging to him, begging him in urgent desperate whispers not to stop, not to ever, ever stop, and Jason could do nothing but oblige him. His own erection throbbed with the need for release, but he ignored it, focusing instead on Ben, on the boy’s urgent moans and breathless cries, until finally, Ben tensed in his arms. He threw his head back, arching his spine, thrusting into Jason’s hand, crying out in relief. Except . . .

Nothing happened.

It was an orgasm—Jason was quite sure of that—but with no ejaculate. His surprise was enough to take his mind off his own unabated desire. Was this normal?

“Oh, Jason,” Ben breathed, still hanging on to him, his body shuddering from the aftershock of his climax. “Oh God, Jason . . .” And then, what little strength he had seemed to fail. Jason thought he’d been holding most of Ben’s weight to begin with, but he realized he’d only been half right as Ben’s knees collapsed. Jason caught him, moving quickly to lower Ben to the couch.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Ben said, clutching his chest. “I’m not usually this weak, but I spent so much energy yesterday walking. And then on the porch—”

Now it was Jason’s turn to apologize, and he rushed to do so, but Ben smiled and put his slender fingers against Jason’s lips. “I don’t mind. I don’t care if I use up every bit of energy I have left. I don’t care if I burn out or burn up or burn away. Not as long as I get to spend whatever’s left with you.”

“Could that happen?” Jason asked, terrified.

Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope so. I like to think this will end eventually.”

The words broke Jason’s heart. They filled him with a dark, terrible dread. “No,” he said, settling next to Ben and pulling him into his arms. “God, don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I don’t want this to go on forever. You don’t understand how lonely it’s been. But now . . .” Ben nestled closer, and Jason rocked him and stroked his hair. “I thank God every day for sending you. And I know the priests back home would tell me that’s a terrible sin, but I don’t care. I’m just happy to have somebody be able to see me and hear me and . . . and now . . .”

“Touch you?”

Ben laughed self-consciously. “And that.”

Jason held him, breathing in his scent, rubbing his narrow back. He’d predicted that Ben’s skin would be soft as silk. He was happy to learn he was right.

“This moment,” Ben said quietly. “This is my new best moment ever. I’d still think it was a dream, except I never have them here.”

“Now we know the trick,” Jason said. “There’s no reason we can’t do this again.”

Ben lifted his head to meet Jason’s eyes. “Do you think so? Do you think it’ll work again?”

He put his hand behind Ben’s neck and gently pulled him in for a kiss. “I have every intention of trying.”

Ben smiled and wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck. “You promised to do that other thing for me too.”

“I did. And I will. I’ll do it now if you like.” The thought intrigued him, but then he remembered the strange orgasm that hadn’t been an orgasm at all. “At the end though,” Jason said carefully. “Is that normal for you to not finish all the way?”

“That’s how it is here.” Ben gestured around the cabin, and for the first time, Jason actually took stock of Ben’s living quarters.

There was the couch they were sitting on, and a small table in front of it, and the book still lying open on the floor. A single chair, in one corner. The fireplace and the fire. What he hadn’t noticed was how unnatural the latter was. There was no crackle or pop of burning wood. When Jason leaned toward it, holding out his hand, he felt no heat.

“You can stick your hand right in it if you want,” Ben said. “It won’t burn you. Or at least, it doesn’t burn me.”

Jason wasn’t inclined to test the theory.

The opposite wall held only a window and single door. The only other items in the room were a bookcase along one wall, and a bed in the far corner, the blankets awry.

“There’s no kitchen.”

“I don’t eat here. Or drink. There isn’t even any water, and I don’t make water, either. I don’t sweat. I’m sure I should smell pretty foul after a hundred and fifty years, but I don’t think I do.” Jason silently agreed with him. Ben may have smelled like pheromones mixed with heaven, but it sure wasn’t a bad thing.

“I don’t get hungry,” Ben went on, “even though I miss food like crazy, especially those first few years. I don’t get thirsty. It’s never hot or cold here. It’s like this, all the time.” It sounded horrifying, but Jason didn’t want to say that, and besides, Ben was still talking. “The asthma is different too. Sometimes I feel the tightness in my chest, like I used to when I’d have an attack, but it isn’t the same. I don’t think I actually breathe here.”

“What? No. You must.” He definitely remembered Ben’s soft panting as he’d stroked him.

Ben shook his head. “I’m not so sure. I mean, I think my body still goes through the motions, and it feels like I’m breathing, but I’m not sure it’s anything more than habit. Like if I stopped altogether, it wouldn’t matter.”

Jason shuddered. “I’m sure it would.”

Ben hesitated, glancing warily at Jason. “I know it doesn’t because once— Well, I told you about being stuck in the box.”

Jason nodded. “I remember.”

“What I didn’t tell you was that before I started walking, I tried to hang myself.”

“What? Ben, no!”

“It didn’t work,” Ben went on, his voice casual, as if they were discussing something as mundane as a car not starting. “I hung there for a while, and I started to panic, because it’s bad enough being trapped in this place for eternity, but to be stuck hanging from my neck all that time too was more than I could bear. But after a while—I’m not sure how long, maybe a couple of weeks—I managed to get myself down again.”

Jason gulped. “Jesus, Ben. That must have been awful.”

Ben shrugged. “It was a long time ago.” He leaned closer again, snuggling into Jason’s chest. “But you see why this is better,” Ben said quietly. “You see why I’d burn through every bit of energy I have left to be with you.”

“Maybe.” Jason kissed the top of Ben’s head. “But hopefully that’s not a choice you have to make.”

Ben stirred, tilting his head upward to smile alluringly at Jason. “Will you kiss me again?”

Jason smiled. “Gladly.”

This time, Ben was aggressive, pushing Jason backward onto the couch as they kissed. He began to eagerly unbutton Jason’s jeans.

“You don’t have to,” Jason said, although the blood was quickly rushing back toward his cock, reviving the erection he’d lost as they talked.

“I want to.”

Jason didn’t protest. He groaned with delight as Ben wrapped his slim fingers around Jason’s cock.

“It still feels good? Even though you’ve been mutilated?”

It wasn’t a question Jason was expecting to hear, or a word that he associated with himself or his sex in any way. “Mutilated?”