Ben wanted to groan at the statement. The two words together made perfect sense and none at the same time. Cody wasn’t wrong that the fighting and the making up had become their thing, and he loved make-up sex as much as the next guy, but he definitely could have done without the vitriol Cody let loose on him in the heat of those moments.
“I like when we make up,” he said, only to be rewarded with the curve of Cody’s mouth into a smile against the side of his neck.
“Like this?” Cody pressed the edge of his thumb into the slit of Ben’s dick, dragging it back and forth until precum beaded at the tip.
“Not so bad,” he conceded.
But it was bad.
It was horrible, and he hated it, but then Cody kissed him and touched him, and he made up for the horrible things, and that was good. It was fine. It was plenty.
Until the next time.
It was a cycle he already hated, but he forgot about that when Cody climbed off his lap, fist still curled tightly around his dick. Ben stood, fighting against Cody’s hold, and he let Cody lead him down the hallway and into the bedroom. He didn’t complain or say no when Cody stripped him naked and pushed him back onto the bed, and he definitely didn’t say stop when Cody removed his own clothes and joined him on the bed.
Ben offered no outward hint of discontent when Cody sheathed Ben’s shaft with a condom, then opened the lube and poured a healthy amount over both of their dicks. Ben’s erection was so hard it hurt, and he closed his eyes and wrapped his fingers around Cody’s waist to hold him steady while he sank down around Ben’s dick.
He let out a rough breath, letting Cody set the pace because Cody was good at setting the pace. Cody was good at being mean, but he was good at sucking dick, and he was great at getting Ben off. So Ben chose to focus on the heat of Cody’s ass radiating through the condom, the tightness of Cody’s muscles as he used Ben’s cock to offer an apology. He ignored the hurtful accusations Cody had thrown at him over dinner, forgot about the food that had been wasted over the course of their argument, and instead he slipped into the void of pleasure Cody offered him.
Cody came with a strangled whimper. Hot jets of cum streaked out of his cock and across Ben’s chest. He opened his eyes in time to see Cody lean forward and lick the salty mess from his chest, then right himself again and pick up the pace. His expression quickly shifted from pleasure to boredom, and Ben’s cock softened. Not much, but enough for Cody to notice.
“This again?” Cody stilled, his fingers splayed apart on the lower part of Ben’s stomach.
“Just…” He groaned, and shoved Cody off of him. Climbing off the bed, he tore off the condom and tied it in a knot out of habit. He carried it into the bathroom, tossed it in the small wire trash can, and locked the door. Ben opened the glass door of his shower and stepped inside, pulling it shut behind him. He listened to Cody try to follow after him, the sound of the knob meeting resistance at the lock, and then the rough slam of Cody’s fist against the door.
Ben startled, pressing his shoulder against the tile wall on the far edge of the shower. He waited for the water to get hotter, waited for his skin to warm the grout work beneath his arm. Cody’s pounding fists turned into softer knocks, and by the time the water ran cold, Ben was fairly certain Cody was gone.
He dried off, ignoring the blurry outline of his reflection beneath the steam in the mirror, and he sat on the closed lid of the toilet to gather his thoughts before unlocking the door. He assumed Cody had left, but he didn’t know for sure. From the other end of the apartment, he heard a loud crash, and he feared his table had met the end of its life. He didn’t want to go out and check. He didn’t want to talk to Cody. He didn’t want to say the things that now—more than ever—needed to be said.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to do either because Cody came back to the bathroom, announcing his arrival with the thud of his fist against the still-locked door.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Cody apologized. “Maybe I took it too far this time.”
“What did you break?” he asked with a sigh.
“Just the bottle of wine. It was an accident.”
Ben scrubbed a hand down the front of his face. He could feel the scratch of his beard growing in because he hadn’t shaved since Wednesday. He’d been a swimmer most of his life, making varsity his sophomore year in high school and then swimming all through college. He could have gone to the Olympics, but he’d given sports the back seat his junior year and shifted his focus to something that wouldn’t wreak havoc on his body and force him into an early retirement.
But he hadn’t dropped the habits. He waxed his body, he ate well, he worked out as much as his schedule would allow, and he shaved his face daily, but Cody had been picking more fights than normal this week and Ben was tired. He wanted to get out of his apartment and go down to the basement pool. He wanted to swim and clear his mind, and forget he’d been dumb enough to get involved with a man like Cody.
The signs had been there from the first week, and he knew it would only get worse. Cody had gotten violent with the walls and the bedding, and now a half-empty bottle of wine, but never with Ben. He’d never worried about being physically in danger, but he watched his mental health slip by the wayside with every word out of Cody’s mouth.
“I think you should go,” he finally said.
“I put the glass in the trash,” Cody answered, sounding as trite as his feigned sadness would allow. “I didn’t want you to hurt yourself, baby.”
“Please go.”
“Can I see you tomorrow?” Cody asked. “I want to make it up to you.”
Ben sighed. “Our thing?”
“See?” He could hear the smile in Cody’s voice. “I knew you understood what I meant.”
“I still think you should go for tonight,” he said. “You should go cool down at your place.”
“But I worry about you here all alone.” Cody tried the doorknob again. “You didn’t even come.”
