Page 82 of Operation Sunshine
The air sparked between them.
Ben’s chest tightened, his throat dry. He couldn’t form words, but he didn’t have to, because Franco was already moving, bridging the small gulf of space between them, kneeling in front of Ben, his hands trembling as he reached for him.
That first brush of fingers, the cautious way Franco leaned forward… Ben hovered between fear and hope. Their lips met in a tentative first kiss, as if they were both testing the waters. Franco’s hand trembled against Ben’s cheek, and Ben stilled, afraid even the smallest move might break the fragile thread tethering them together. When Franco kissed him again, only harder this time, something inside Ben gave way. A sound rose in his throat, half relief, half hunger, and every nerve in his body woke at once. His hands unclasped, one finding Franco’s jaw, the other his hip, pulling him closer until he was nearly in Ben’s lap. The air felt too thin, everything tightened, heat surged, and restraint cracked under the weight of every hour that had passed since their conversation.
Ben hadn’t let himself want like this in years, not with this degree of urgency, this recklessness. And yet, with Franco pressed against him, every instinct screamed this was right, that nothing had ever fit more naturally.
Slow burn, Ben reminded himself.Don’t rush.But Franco’s need, his raw urgency, was impossible to resist.
Not that Ben wanted to.
Franco shifted fully into Ben’s lap, straddling him. The kiss deepened, heat flooding through Ben as he slid his hands under the hem of Franco’s shirt, his fingertips grazing warm skin.
Franco shivered, his mouth breaking from Ben’s only long enough to whisper, “I needed this—I neededyou.”
The words undid him. Ben kissed him back, slow and deliberate, even as his pulse raced. “Then stay,” he breathed against his mouth, though he knew it wasn’t fair to ask. “Stay tonight.”
Franco’s answer came in the press of his body, the way he rolled his hips just enough to make Ben’s head fall back, a groan breaking free.
And we have ignition.
He hadn’t known what he’d find when he came here, whether Ben would turn him away, whether the fragile thing between them would already be gone. But now, perched in Ben’s lap, his chest pressed to Ben’s firm body, Franco knew.
It was real.
Ben’s kiss was steady, grounding, but his hands betrayed him, restless, hungry, and desperate as they roamed Franco’s back, his sides, his skin. Every touch made Franco’s pulse quicken, made himgrind harder, chase more. He wanted to drown in this, to burn himself down to nothing in Ben’s arms.
“Bedroom,” he managed between kisses, tugging at Ben’s shirt. His voice was rough. “I want you naked and hard, pinning me to the mattress.”
Ben’s eyes flicked up, dark and searching, as if to make absolutely sure. Franco answered with a kiss intended to leave Ben in no doubt.
They stumbled down the hall, their mouths never parting for long, hands tugging clothes loose with clumsy urgency. Franco’s jacket hit the floor, then Ben’s shirt, then Franco’s, each layer stripping away the space between them until skin slid against skin and both of them shuddered.
On the bed, the pace slowed again, but this time with reverence. Ben took his time, tracing every line of Franco’s body, and Franco arched into every touch, every kiss, his own hands desperate to pull Ben closer, to keep him there.
What had begun as a slow burn blazed hotter, as need and tenderness collided until Franco could barely breathe. And when Ben finally pushed him down against the sheets, holding his gaze as his rigid shaft slid over Franco’s, he thought he might shatter with the sheer, overwhelming force of it.
This wasn’t lust or hunger.
It was love. Raw, terrifying, impossible love.
And Franco gave himself up to it.
They rolled on the bed, a tangle of bare limbs, Franco’s mouth still hot against his, tasting of need and surrender. Ben slid his hands down Franco’s back, gripping his hips, feeling the solid weight of him above.
The years of restraint, of holding himself in check, snapped like twine. Ben flipped them, pressing Franco into the mattress, kissinghim with something close to desperation. He wanted to devour him, mark him, but he also wanted to take his time, to make it last.
He pulled back enough to look at Franco. “You’re sure?” His voice was low with a ragged edge.
Franco’s answer was to dig his fingers into Ben’s hips, tugging hard, a growl of frustration escaping his throat. Glorious hardness met Ben’s equally solid cock. “Does that feel like hesitation?”
Ben chuckled, and leaned down to capture Franco’s mouth again, loving that everything had been peeled away from them, leaving nothing but heat and skin. Franco’s body under him was beautiful, lean muscle taut with need, his cock already leaking against his stomach.
Ben traced a line down Franco’s chest with his tongue, savouring the shiver it elicited, lapping up pre-cum that was slightly sweet. He took Franco’s shaft deep with leisurely, steady suction. Franco’s gasp hit him like electricity, his hips jerking before Ben pinned them down with firm hands. He worked him with patience and skill, swallowing every sound Franco made, each one loosening something tight in Ben’s chest.
But he didn’t want this to end in his mouth, not tonight. He pulled back, licking his lips, and crawled up to kiss him again, letting Franco taste himself there.
Franco moaned into the kiss. “Want to feel your tongue on my hole.”
