Page 8 of Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang Us, Daddy

“You kept it there all day,” I say, feeling amazed. I know he said he would, but seeing it there makes it real. It’s tangible evidence of what he’s allowed me to do. The depraved depths he lets me venture down without shame or judgment. “For me?”

“I told you I would, and I did. I’ll never lie to you, Benjamin. You either, Bennet. You can trust me. I need you both to know that.”

“We do,” I answer for Bennet. When I look up at Nate, he’s beaming down at me. “Will you wear me tomorrow, too, or was it just a onetime thing?”

“If it makes you feel more secure when I’m away from you, I’ll wear whatever you want me too, buddy. Did it help, today?”

“Yes, sir,” I answer. “Bennet mentioned. . .him. I got sad for a minute, but then he put my hand right here.” I pat the area where my dried load rests on Nate’s stomach and give it a squeeze. “He told me to remember I was all over you, and that as long as I was on your skin, I was safe. I felt better right off the bat.”

“I’m sorry,” Bennet says, his voice breaking. “I felt so bad about it all day, Benji. It was stupid of me. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”

Nate smiles, and there’s a little wetness in his eyes. Tears of pride, I hope, but he cries at everything, so who knows? “Good boy,” he praises, and I beam brightly. He isn’t talking to me, though. He’s staring down at Bennet. “Such a good boy, Bennet.”

Bennet’s eyes blow wide as he looks up, like he can’t believe the affectionate words are being aimed his way. I don’t know why he ever doubts me. I tell him over and over; I know what’s best for us, and right now, in this house, we’re the only souls left in the world. It doesn’t matter what Tatum thinks. Heck, it doesn’t matter what Bennet’s self-doubt thinks about it either. Nate can be our Daddy—I know he can. Bennet just has to trust me.

Bennet looks at me, then back at Nate, and for the first time in ages, he doesn’t look like he hates everything in the world except me. He almost seems happy, the way we used to be when it was just Tatum, us, and our fourth boyfriend, Austin. Before. . . the monster.

“I am?” Bennet asks like he can’t believe the words.

“Dang right, you are,” Nate says, but there’s a playful tone to his voice that I don’t really like. A second ago, he seemed almost dreamy. Now, he’s back to his same silly self. Cracking smiles before cracking jokes. Stealing my nose and giving it back. As much as I love that version of Nate, I want to get to know the other version too.

It’s time to make our move.

It takes a second, but the thought comes fast, almost out of nowhere. Tonight.

It’s happening tonight, and Bennet’s going to hate it.

CHAPTER 3

BENJI

Bennet’s already in the shower when I finally pry myself away from Nate’s lap. After dinner, the three of us cuddled up on the couch, Bennet reading a romance book as I told Nate about our day. The whole time, I was on Nate’s knee, enjoying the way it felt as he bounced me up and down.

When he told us we needed to go upstairs and get ready for bed, it took everything I had to pull myself away from his warm, welcoming lap. As welcoming as his lap is, it’s what’s in that lap that’s got me excited about tonight. I’ve got a plan, you see, and it’s one that’s going to rock Nate’s world. Tonight, I plan to show him everything we have to offer. What he does with the vision laid before him is his prerogative, I just know I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try.

In the bathroom, I pull off my shirt, then shorts, and toss them into the hamper in the corner. The only thing I don’t take off is my half of the matching necklaces Bennet and I own. We bought them when we were kids. Initially, they were gold, but over time the gold paint chipped, leaving half a silver colored broken heart on each of our chains. I like them this way, though. Faded with time, but still holding strong, just like the other half of my heart, Bennet Anderson.

Climbing into the shower, I slip behind Bennet and grab the bottle of body wash out of his hand. Squeezing a dollop of rose-scented soap into my palm, I kiss his shoulder before handing the bottle back to him and working the soap into a frothy lather. He’s still wearing his half of our necklace too. I don’t think either of us have ever taken the necklaces off since the day we bought them.

Like I do every night, I massage the body wash into his shoulders, digging my thumbs into his muscles, trying to ease his tension.

“I need a favor,” I tell him, moving my hands lower, making his skin nice and soapy. “And I need you to say yes, no matter what.”

He looks over his shoulder at me, one eyebrow raised. “Continue.”

I kiss his shoulder again, but I just end up getting soap in my mouth, and I’m spitting and sputtering, trying to get the nasty taste out. Ugh. This is the actual worst, so I lean past him, not really caring that my penis is now pressed right against his ass. With a wide-open mouth, I collect enough water to swish around and cleanse my palette. Bennet’s still staring at me with a questioning look in his eyes, and I want to lighten the mood, so I pucker my lips and spit a stream directly into his face. He doesn’t even bat an eye.

“So,” I finally continue once I no longer taste nasty soap. “What we talked about earlier—us jacking off before bed—you’re still up for it, right?”

He pulls away and turns to the side, displaying his modest cock, fully hard, red at the tip. “What do you think?”

I snicker, then reach down and thump the head of his prick. I really like that we can share moments like this. I know it’s not normal—grown men aren’t supposed to shower together or flick each other’s penises—but we’ve had no boundaries for the lasttwo decades, so I don’t really give a damn what’s normal and what’s not.

“Come back to me, Benj,” Bennet says. I blink a few times, confused. “You were lost in your head again. Keep that up and the water’s going to get cold. Whatever you want, just say it.” He leans back against me, resting his body on mine. I tighten the grip I have on his waist, holding on to him for dear life.

“I want to make a move on Nate.” It feels wrong calling him that. He’s not Nate. I know Bennet probably thinks I want to call Nate “Daddy,” but even that doesn’t sound strong enough for the feelings he makes me feel. But if Nate isn’t a Nate and he isn’t a Daddy, either, what else does that leave? “Tonight. I want to do it tonight.”

Bennet doesn’t say anything. Just turns his attention to the body wash, pouring himself a palmful before reaching behind his back, toward his ass. That’s my job, though. I do him, he does me. It’s something I’ve done without fail for years. I don’t like change, so I scoop the soap out of his hand and nudge him back. I slip my fingers between his cheeks, scratching soap into his crack with my nails. I’m careful around his hole, because I don’t want to hurt him, but I still press firmly against his entrance, getting him squeaky clean. Then I allow my finger to linger, using my other hand to hold his cheeks apart. His rim is a light-pink hue, and it looks fresh as a daisy. He’s always had a really pretty hole though. He says mine is cute, too, but I’m not bendy enough to see back there, and the thought of crouching over my phone just to snap an image of my asshole doesn’t sound very fun. I don’t know how my hole could ever top Bennet’s, though.

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