Page 73 of Operation Sunshine
“No,” Ben whispered against his mouth, kissing him slow and deep, as if he had all the time in the world. “I’m going to make love to you.”
The words hit harder than any frantic touch, harder than the rush of lust coursing through Franco’s veins. His chest cracked open, terrifying and exhilarating, and he let himself fall, fully and helplessly, into the space Ben carved for him.
They started slow, Ben removing Franco’s shirt to press sweet kisses to his chest and abs, teasing his nipples with tight flicks of his tongue, one hand on Franco’s neck, the other in his hair, connecting them.
Binding them together.
Time spun out in a lazy web, wrapping itself around them, cocooning them, drawing out every sigh, every breath, every touch. Lips grazed shafts and tongues teased and worshipped skin, and theair filled with the sound of their mingled breaths. Franco laughed when Ben reached between the seat cushions to produce the bottle of lube, and then he didn’t hesitate when Ben paused, kneeling between his spread thighs, his hand working his thick cock.
Franco nodded. He ached for Ben to open him up, fill him, stretch him…
And when Ben finally moved inside him, languid and steady, cradling Franco’s head in his hands, holding Franco’s gaze as if it was the only thing that mattered, Franco understood what it meant to be undone and remade all at once. This was so much more than sex.
It was surrender.
It was trust.
It was love, wild and unstoppable.
The room smelled of sweat and skin, the air thick with the heat they’d created between them. Franco lay on the couch cushions, his chest heaving, every muscle deliciously spent, and yet his heart wouldn’t stop racing. Not from exertion, but from the way Ben had looked at him.
Wasstilllooking at him.
Ben lay stretched out beside Franco, one hand absently tracing lazy patterns along his ribs, his breath warm against Franco’s temple, his weight a steady, reassuring anchor, those blue eyes focused on him.
Franco averted his gaze and stared at the ceiling, blinking hard. His throat ached.
Sex isn’t supposed to feel like this.
Hewasn’t supposed to feel like this.
He tried for levity, his old shield. “Well, I guess it was time the couch saw some action. Variety is the spice of life, right?”
The joke sounded hollow, even to his own ears.
Ben didn’t laugh, but pressed a kiss to Franco’s hair and murmured, “You don’t have to hide with me.”
That simple sentence undid him more than the sex ever could. Tears, hot and sudden, stung him, and his breath shuddered out. He turned his face into Ben’s chest, muffling the sound before it could escape.
“I don’t…” His voice cracked, and he tried again. “I don’t know what you see in me.”
Ben’s fingers stilled against his skin. He tipped Franco’s chin up, forcing their gazes to meet. “Everything.”
The word landed heavy, irrevocable, and Franco couldn’t look away. He felt exposed, every wall stripped bare under the weight of Ben’s quiet certainty.
“I’m a mess,” Franco whispered.
Ben chuckled. “Behind those spreadsheets, so am I. And I still want to hold you.”
That broke him all over again, not in the fiery, catastrophic way he feared, but in a way that felt like sunlight cracking through storm clouds, beautiful and powerful.
Franco took several deep breaths, willing himself to stay right there, letting the warmth of Ben’s body seep into the cracks, filling places Franco hadn’t even known were empty.
I don’t have to perform, to dazzle, to run. I can simplybe.
And Ben was still there.
Still looking.
