Page 9 of Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang Us, Daddy

“Okay,” Bennet says, taking me by surprise.

“Okay?”

He looks over his shoulder and nods. I can tell he’s worried, and I hate that I put worry on such a sweet face. “Okay,” he repeats after a pause. “If you want to make a move, we’ll makea move.” He reaches down and squeezes my hand. “You care for him.”

“Do you?”

He chews his bottom lip, considering. “It’s not that I don’t like him. He’s a nice guy, and he puts up with our weird stuff, but it’s Tatum’s dad.”

I roll my eyes. “He doesn’t care about our weird stuff. He’s just as weird as us. Nate literally rocked me like a baby earlier. He sings “Ride a Little Pony” and bounces me on his knee. You saw how proud he was of you earlier. He adores us.” I probably look like I’ve got hearts in my eyes, but I don’t care. “And who cares what Tatum says? He’s off living his best life and we’re here, fending for ourselves. He can cope.”

“It’s still weird.”

“Are you not attracted to him? Is it because he’s bald? Because that’s not fair. He can’t help it.”

Bennet shakes his head, nervous, clearly, but insistent. “I love his bald head. I wanna gaze into it like a crystal ball and play witches.”

I smile like a maniac, I’m sure, because I’ve had the very same thought before. “Hocus pocus, come and stroke us, Daddy. Ugh. It would be super fun, Bennet. Sometimes I like to think of it like an airport runway. I want to land my lips like a plane all over it.” I chew my cheek, trying to figure out what the problem is. “Well, if it’s not because he’s bald, then why? I know he’s got a little bit of a tummy, but it’s adorable.”

“It is,” he agrees. “And, yeah, I kind of want to tickle it a little, but that’s not. . .” Closing his eyes, he sighs before turning slightly, allowing the water to drip-drip-drip down on his face. “Fine. Just tell me what you want to do.” His eyes are still shut, and I think he’s worried about opening them long enough to face the facts. There’s no decision left for us to make. Nate’s ours. He knows it and I know it.

I watch as water trickles down his body. He’s handsome, my Bennet. I know he could have the pick of the litter, and for reasons I’ll never understand, he continuously picks me. Healwayspicks me. Those last few weeks, before Tatum came and saved us, Bennet told the monster if he didn’t let me out of my cage, he wasn’t going to fuck him anymore. I didn’t see Bennet again after that, and I missed him. My God, I missed him. The bond between us felt like it was being pulled so tight, it would snap at any second. I kept waiting for it too. I waited for it to snap back like a rubber band and leave a mark, but it never did. Because my Bennet wouldn’t leave me there alone. I knew it. I said it to myself when I was the only one in the room. After the monster left us there in our temporary tombs while he took his stupid new boyfriend down to Mexico, Bennet was there. I felt him. I still feel him. He’s right here in my heart, beginning to end.

“So, here’s my plan.” And I tell him all of it, clutching my half-heart necklace for strength. From methods of seduction to how I want Bennet to bend over in front of Nate, revealing himself, I tell Bennet everything, and he listens with bulging eyes and a steadily shaking head.

“This is a terrible idea,” he says less than ten minutes later, once we’re back in our room. He’s naked as the day he was born, his cock is still rock-hard from the shower. I’m just as hard as he is, and it’s only now I realize how sexually frustrated I am. It’s been days since we’ve found release, side by side. “What if he doesn’t take the bait and we actually have to go through with it?” When he turns to face me, his erection bounces up and down like a pretty-pink pogo stick. “I’m going to have to touch your dick, Benji.”

He’s right, of course. But then, Bennet always is. My plan isn’t ideal. It rests on little more than wild assumptions and stolen glances, but it’s the best shot we have. In a few minutes,we’re going to tell Nate it’s been too long since we’ve been with another man, and explain that desperate times call for drastic actions. That his boys need him to guide them through a sexual awakening of sorts.

With each other.

Again, not ideal, but I can cope. “For God’s sake. It’s just a hand job. How many times have we masturbated together?”

“I know, but it’s different this time. I’ll be touching you. Or you’ll be touching me?”

I fix a frown on my face. “No. We’re not falling into cycles of self-doubt.” I point down at his erection, refusing to break eye contact. “You’re leaking onto the carpet, Bennet. You want this just as much as I do. If worst comes to worst and I end up with my dick in your hand instead of in Nate’s, I’ll roll with it. Honest to God, you’ve seen me vomit vodka onto a man’s penis; this is hardly groundbreaking territory.”

He snickers. It isn’t a loud laugh, but it’s there, making the room feel a little bit warmer. “Tatum didn’t talk to you for three days.”

I shrug. “I warned him I was drunk as a skunk. It’s not my fault he still demanded I use his dick as a chaser.”

He’s got his bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling gently. When it pops out of his mouth, it’s glossy and pink, the overhead lighting sparkling against his saliva. “Is it bad that we’re trying to fuck our ex-boyfriend’s dad?”

“Probably, but we’re hardly a beacon of normality.” I grab his wrist and squeeze. “No matter what happens, we won’t let it make things weird between us. Okay? All or nothing, beginning to end, that’s me and you. Touching your penis won’t change that.” He still looks worried, and I’m sick of seeing him looking like a Grumpy Gus, so I make a decision I’ll never be able to take back. Reaching down, I wrap my fingers around him, taking my best friend—my brother from another mother—into my hand.It’s like static is pooled at the tips of my fingers because, despite what I may have said a moment ago, this is really fucking weird. Still, I’m kind of enjoying the look of absolute shock on his face. Like, of all the possible ways this evening might play out, he expected this one the least.

“Oh my God,” he whispers, staring at the place our bodies are connected. “Benji, you’re . . . you’re touching me.”

“I am.” I give it a tug just to drive the fact home. “See? The world hasn’t ended. It’s not a big deal.” Then I give him another peck on the cheek before whirling around and heading toward the nightstand. I grab our shared bottle of cologne and spritz three pumps of vanilla-scented goodness—Nate’s ex-wife’s fancy perfume that he still loves so much—onto my skin. I twist my waist so I can hand him the bottle, but his eyes are glued to my butt. It’s a look I’ve never seen before from him, and I can’t really tell what it’s all about, but it makes me feel tingly inside.

“Earth to Bennet,” I say, shaking the bottle. “Are you going to stand there all night, or are we going to go and land us a Daddy?”

We’re both naked, but I don’t want to shock Nate—that name still feels wrong. Why does it feel wrong?—only to have him slam the door in our faces, so I improvise. I snatch a matching pair of baby-blue jockstraps, tossing one at Bennet before sliding into the second. Bennet’s still fumbling with his package when I’m done, so I cross the room until I’m in front of him. I reach into his jock, lifting his cock so it’s more prominent. Since neither of us has much to work with, every little bit helps. When I’m done, I remove my hand from his penis and take a step back, eyeing him up and down.

“Well?” he asks. Bennet seems nervous, and I can’t say I blame him, because I feel like I’ve got a hive of hornets buzzing around inside me. I look him up and down, taking inventory of Bennet Anderson. His pale skin is soft like satin, not a hair to be seen, thanks to the hair remover we slather on each otheronce a week. He’s a bit more muscular than me, though not by much. While I’m basically skin and bones, Bennet has some real definition. There are little grooves in his abdomen, outlining the beginnings of a six-pack, thanks to the Tom Daley YouTube workout videos he insists are to help him obtain an Olympian’s body, when in reality, he just wants to see a twenty-something twink’s near-nude ass.

“You look beautiful,” I answer honestly. His hand is right there, and it’s looking lonely, so I take hold of him, wanting to remind him he’s not in this alone. He’s never in it alone, not as long as I’m around. “You always look beautiful.”

A blush spreads across his face, and he meets my gaze long enough to give me a smile and a nod. “You too.” Clearing his throat, he looks at the door, then back at me. “So, we’re really doing this?”

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