Heat crept up my neck. "I was adequate."
"You were real. That's better than perfect."
When he kissed me, there was none of our earlier urgency. It was slow, exploratory, and weighted with new understanding. I pulled him down onto the couch beside me, fingers working at the buttons of his flannel shirt. I worked them free one by one, revealing his firm, muscular chest, the light dusting of hair, and the warmth of his skin.
The contrast between his work-roughened hands and his gentle touch sent heat curling through me as he returned the favor. Cool workshop air brushed my skin as my shirt fell open, heightening every sensation.
"Is this okay?" His words pressed against my neck.
"Absolutely." I arched into his touch as his fingers traced patterns down my ribs.
He made me feel treasured—like one of his restoration projects that deserved careful attention. When his hands wandered lower, the slight catch of his rough skin against mine made my breath hitch. His quiet groan when I reciprocated vibrated through both our bodies.
Ben's lips touched mine again, the kiss deep and lingering. He reached for my belt, deftly unfastening it while I pushed his shirt off his shoulders. We moved together with surprising ease, as if we'd done this a hundred times before.
He eased me back against the worn leather, his body covering mine. The sensation of skin against skin was electric and immediate.
His touch grew more insistent as his heart pounded against my chest. He planted kisses down my neck, breathing against my skin.
"Ben." His name caught in my throat as sensation overwhelmed my thoughts.
"I've got you." His voice was rough but tender. "Let go. I've got you."
He didn't rush. His lips trailed down my chest, lingering, then moving lower. When he slipped to the floor on his knees, I gasped.
He pulled my legs to the edge of the couch, spreading my thighs. When he leaned in, his breath hot against my skin, his stubble grazed my thighs, making me tense in anticipation.
He leaned forward, his tongue exploring my cock head, and his lips teasing. I'd never had a lover so utterly focused on my pleasure. He took his time, building the sensations in waves as I gripped the leather beneath me.
The pressure built. He gripped the base of my cock while his tongue worked magic. When he took me entirely into his mouth, I lost all coherent thought.
My orgasm crashed through me with an intensity that left me shaking. Ben held me steady through it, his hands anchoring me as I trembled.
As calm began to spread through my body, Ben climbed back onto the couch and kissed me deeply. I tasted myself on his lips, the intimacy of it sending an aftershock through my spent body.
I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his cock. He groaned into my mouth, his hips moving in time with my strokes. His breathing turned ragged, and he gripped my shoulders as his pleasure rose.
He broke from the kiss, eyes locked on mine. "Alex, fuck."
I moved with deliberate precision, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat. His body tensed, that moment of suspension before release, and then he came with a shudder that rippled through us both.
Afterward, we lay tangled together, heartbeats slowly returning to normal. The workshop came back into focus—the scent of wood polish, soft hum of the space heater, and the golden glow of his work lamp.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"For what?" Ben's voice rumbled low.
"For finding me in the prop room. For not pushing. For..." I gestured vaguely at our tangled limbs. "All of it."
He laughed softly. "Trust me, this part was entirely selfish."
"I'm serious." I propped myself up to look at him. "You make it easy—being real instead of performing. I haven't had that in... maybe ever."
"That's because you don't need to perform for me. I want you. All of you—the put-together parts and the messy parts."
"Even the panic attacks in prop rooms?"
"Especially those." He pulled me down for another kiss, achingly gentle. "Because they're part of what makes you real."
