Page 36 of Candy Hearts
“Okay. I won’t.”
“Anyway, my parents wanted me to be different than I was. On the handful of occasions one or both showed up, they acted like I was a bit too soft for them. So I tried to be who they wanted me to be.”
“How young were you?”
“Oh geez, early elementary the first time I truly clocked it. I was obsessed with unicorns. I had them on everything—backpack, folders, pencil box. My dad said something shitty, so I asked my grandma to replace them. She wouldn’t. We didn’t have the money to buy new stuff. Rosie traded me and took the unicorn stuff to middle school.”
“I hate that they made you feel that way.”
Benji shrugged. “Yeah. Me too. Then, as a teenager, I hid behind this mask of disinterest. I was the emo gay guy with lots of emo friends, but I wasn’t open with who I was in my heart. I didn’t laugh loudly or share my thoughts. I used sarcasm andcattinessto hide. I dyed my hair black and wore eyeliner and band T-shirts. I never sang or danced.”
“Are you a good singer and dancer?” William asked, surprised, like maybe he thought Benji was harboring secret dreams of Broadway.
“No, I’m horrible, but I can murder me some karaoke.”
“What happened when you got older? You’re not an emo boy anymore.”
“No. It got worse. I shape-shifted into what I thought was a dateable, fuckable gay man. I compromised. I changed myself to be the guy each new asshole wanted me to be until I was a total blank slate inside. I’d penned myself into this sanitized acceptability except when I was with my sisters, where I could be myself. The lingerie is a big fuck you to that. I’m not that person. I’mthisperson. And yes, I like that my legs look jacked in thigh-highs,andI can change a tire faster than anyone around. I like to cuddle,andI can tell you every player on the Royals roster. I like unicorns,andI can still, I don’t know, top like a machine if the mood hits. I like to wear pretty things, but that doesn’t make me less than. It makes me the person I want to be. I can be more than one thing.”
A heavy silence followed Benji’s words, so he glanced back at William. William was considering him seriously.
“I don’t think I’d want you to top me like a machine. I’d want you to top me like a living, breathing human. You’re beautiful and amazing, and I’m so thankful I’ve met this version of you. The real one. I only want you to be the real you with me.”
This was evidently a weekend of romantic list-toppers because that might have been the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to Benji. But his brain caught on two sentences in particular.
“You want me to fuck you?”
“The thought of you fucking me while wearing this … damn, I love that.”
“But I thought you liked giving me directions and being in control.”
“No reason I can’t be in control when you fuck me, honey, but only if you want it.”
Benji wanted it. His body was lighting back up.
“Yeah. Okay. Now?”
“Do you want it to be now? We can keep talking.”
“No talking. Now.”
“Think you need something inside you first,” William said gruffly. “Pick.” He grabbed a few of the toys that were on the other side of the bed and sat them in Benji’s line of vision.
The P-Spot Pulse—a prostate massager.
A string of anal beads.
A silicone cock ring attached to a Rimmy butt plug.
He wanted to feel full, so he pointed at the cock ring and plug. He’d never worn it while fucking someone, just while jerking off. He rolled onto his back.
“I think you’ll need to put this part on yourself,” William said, handing him the ring.
Benji spread lube on the inside of the ring, before wrapping it around his balls and cock, thankful he wasn’t fully hard yet. It boned him right up though. The condom quickly followed.
The plug was connected to the cock ring via a longish silicone cord, which gave the user a lot of slack and room to maneuver.
“Do you need more prep to get this in?” William asked. He grabbed the lube.
