Page 50 of What We Had

Bennett shrugged. “I managed a few second and third dates here and there. Nothing got physical and I wasn’t comfortable to explain why. Guys never stuck around.” He sighed out a sad laugh and looked down at my chest. “That’s when I really started to get into baking. A guy can only jack off so much by himself before he loses his mind.”

Please don’t say that. The thought, the mental image. Bennett, pants around his ankles, leaning back, his hand moving in slow strokes…

I cleared my throat and stepped away from Bennett before he could feel my growing arousal. His hand shot out and put my bicep in a vise grip. “Don’t. It’s okay. I don’t mind. I mean it.”

I still hesitated. Didn’t let him get near. “I don’t… I don’t understand sometimes. I’ll do whatever you want, but I don’t get it. When we were playing around the other night and you… and then I… you got so uncomfortable. And then this morning? And right now?” I had read about this in articles, of course. How a man’s erection could be a trigger. I was acutely aware of my boy downstairs and the ways in which he could come to attention at a moment’s notice when around Bennett.

He released my arm. Another shrug. “I don’t know either, Connor. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”

“I don’t want to do anything that makes you shut down. I’m trying to take steps to prevent getting to that point.”

Bennett stepped away from me and snatched the glass of sparkling water he left on an end table. Gulped at half the contents like it was liquor. “Last night helped. I can tell you that. You were agentleman. That’s the best way to put it. I was completely vulnerable. Susceptible to any kind of suggestion. And you… you… yourespectedme. Made me feel safe.” He turned to look at me. It was as if an internal fire brightened the blue of his eyes. “There’s this trust that’s building between us and it’s my lifeline. I know you’re frustrated. I am, too. But everything we’ve done so far, all the stepping backward and forward like you said, all of it is progress.” Another sip. Smaller this time. “You’re a man. You have needs. Your body is going to react appropriately to what it’s being presented with. Mine does, too. I’m in the same boat. I mean, the thought that all I have to do is say a couple of things and then you’re ready?” He dry swallowed and looked away. “ThatIcan do that to you? Oof.”

“You always have,” I said. He paced the length of the room. I could tell he was at the end of whatever prepared speech he had. “Hell, alookis good enough. We absolutely won’t have an issue when the time comes. There’s no performance pressure on my end, I can tell you that.” I clicked my tongue. “Jesus. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that out loud. Damn it.”

Bennett had been quietly laughing. “Y’know, you make me want to say everything on my mind, too. Like there’s nothing to hold back.”

Except the one thing thatisbeing held back.

I asked, “You wanna go upstairs?” This time, I purposefully left off the caveats I had presented in the past. He should know what my intentions were if we left the library and sought the comfort of my bedroom.

Bennett drained his drink. “Yes.”

My pants grew tighter. My turn to dry swallow. “Can you hang down here for a bit? I need to tidy up my bedroom.” I pointed to the corner of the room. “Can you push the embers around and put up the screen for the fire?”

“Mmhmm,” Bennett said. He didn’t look at me.

I left the room and sprinted upstairs.

My room had its own fireplace, sharing the same chimney as the one in the family room directly below it. I got the fire going in my room. Killed all the lights. Made, re-made, then re-re-made the bed again to get it looking just right. Since returning home, I purchased a decent-sized flatscreen and had it mounted on the wall. I queued something up on a streaming service, something that could distract for a while. Down the hall, I tidied up the second guest room. I needed him to know that a private room for him to sleep in was ready in case he spent the night. I changed out of what Bennett would call my fancy clothes, then slipped into loose pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt. Set out comfortable clothes for him, too.

Back downstairs, I called Bennett to follow me. I studied his eyes, his body, his hands. Nothing jittered, no wringing, no polite coughing or throat clearing. Instead, I found determination backlit by a sense of perseverance.

Upstairs, I made our first stop at the guest room where I had set out a change of clothes. “This is your room if you end up spending the night, okay? Some sweats there, if you want to change.”

Bennett pecked me on the cheek, then stepped inside the room and closed the door.

Hot damn.

I walked down the hall in a daze. Lay on my bed over the covers. Tapped my toes together while waiting, my thumbs racing in circles around each other in my folded hands.

Bennett came in without any shyness. He wore my too-long sweatpants that pooled at his feet, and the white undershirt he already had on. His chest looked immaculate, outlined by the taut cotton. He closed the door, smiled at the fire, then looked at the television.

“So, what are we watching? Ooh, can we watch one of your movies?”

That took me by surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. Without hesitation, he crawled into the bed beside me, then grabbed a throw blanket tossed in the corner and pulled it over us. Snuggled right up beside me.

“Sure. Movie? TV show?”

“Path of the Wicked III, obviously. Scary movie.”

I snickered. Shook my head. “That movie is so, so awful.”

“Which is why it’s so, so good. Put it on.”

I found the flick on one of the myriad of streaming services available. Hit Play. Cozied up closer to Bennett.

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