Ben kissed him again, crashing their mouths together and shoving Thomas once again into the wall. He held Thomas by his cock, the grip meant to be a promise and a question all in the same breath. He kissed Thomas with long and slow strokes of his tongue until Thomas’s hips bucked forward, pushing his cock into Ben’s hand.
“Drinks,” he murmured, regretfully ending the kiss. He would have gladly gone upstairs with Thomas if he’d allowed it, but he wanted to respect him and not push.
Ben knew he’d been a little frantic and scattered when they’d run into each other at the gelato shop and he’d done much more than send mixed signals. He wanted to believe they’d gotten to someplace level and good, even if it wasn’t where they’d intended to go.
“I’ve wanted that for so long,” Thomas whispered, pressing his fingertips against his lips.
“You have?”
“I didn’t at first because everything was so new, but…yeah.”
Ben cleared his throat, feeling relatively choked up with emotions for a reason he couldn’t put his finger on. For as much as it had taken for him to back down and admit his heart, he knew it had been just as much—if not more—of a leap for Thomas. They were both taking a risk on each other and things were getting serious.
“I know a bar,” he offered, clearing his throat. “I don’t think it’s mahogany inside, but they have an extensive liquor menu.”
“Walkable?” Thomas asked.
“Sadly, no.”
“I can drive.”
“We can get a car,” he suggested. “So we can both drink.”
“If you like.” Thomas pulled his phone out of his pocket. “What’s the name of the bar?”
“The Brentwood.”
Ben watched Thomas’s fingers swipe and tap across his phone while he ordered the car, then nervously reach for Ben after he returned his phone to his pocket. Ben offered up his hand freely, in awe of howrightit felt in that moment to be standing on the sidewalk holding Thomas’s hand.
The car came and they sat in the back together, so close the outsides of their thighs brushed. Thomas didn’t let go of his hand and he didn’t say a word. The silence was gentle and enjoyable and it was new to Ben. He couldn’t remember a time he’d had that kind of comfort with another person. Certainly not with Cody and not with anyone before him either.
The bar came into view and Thomas squeezed his hand. Ben returned it, and once the car stopped alongside the curb, he pulled Thomas out after him and into the building. He found a small table in the back corner of the space, almost removed from the low hum of conversation that filled the room. In the middle of the table sat a thick, leather-bound drink menu, and he handed it off to Thomas to browse. Ben already knew what he wanted to get so, like earlier, he took advantage of the time to watch Thomas.
No more than thirty seconds passed before Thomas closed the menu and dropped it back down on the table in front of them.
“Did you find something you liked?” he asked.
“You.”
Ben couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the pick-up. “Does that line work on women?”
“It wasn’t a line.” Thomas leaned back in his chair with a smirk that told Ben it might have been a line.
“Did you find a drink you wanted?” he asked instead.
“I did.”
“Are you going to keep me in suspense?” Ben smiled. “You can tell a lot about a person by the drink they order.”
Thomas laughed and leaned in. “I’m getting a scotch.”
“I believe it.”
“Are you going to enlighten me as to what this reveals?”
“Scotch drinkers are proud and confident,” he said, and Thomas looked at him as he spoke, proud and confident. “They have a dedicated attention to detail.”
Thomas arched a brow, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick the corner of his mouth. “Is that so?”
