Noah waited until the door closed behind her. He locked it. Then he took his phone back out and called Benji.
“Oh, thank god,” Benji said. “Pleasetell me this means I can come.”
“That depends. I have five minutes before my meeting. Can you get me off before then?”
“Jesus,” Benji muttered. “How’sthatfor motivation?”
He let out a small, soft groan like he couldn’t help himself.
Noah placed the phone on the desk and palmed his hardening cock. “Where are you?”
“One second.” The sound of hurried footsteps, then a grunt. “I’m on your bed. Uh, in my boxers.”
“Why were you hard?”
“I’m twenty,” Benji said dryly. “I encountered a stiff breeze.”
Noah grinned, squeezing himself tighter. “Benjamin.”
Benji hesitated. Noah waited, interest piquing. If it took Benji effort to say, it had to be good.
“I was painting… something,” Benji said eventually. “With gold paint. And I was thinking about your hands on me. Your gold hands.”
“You were sad when I washed them off.”
“Yeah,” Benji said, the word barely a breath. “We should do it again sometime. Wanna be covered in it. Wanna be yours.”
The words tumbled out before Noah could stop them: “You’re already mine. Don’t need paint to prove it. You belong to me.”
For a second, he worried it was too much too fast. But Benji moaned, wet noises coming through the receiver.
“Oh fuck,” Benji gasped. “Yeah, I—I fucking do. You destroyed me, you know that? No one’s ever gonna measure up. Gonna think about you my whole life.”
Noah’s heart constricted painfully. “Stick around, then.”
Benji’s breath hitched. The second stretched, unbearably long.
Noah forced back his disappointment and took himself out of his slacks. “Tell me what you’re doing.”
“I’m jerking myself,” Benji said after a second.
“Are you wet?”
“Mmm,” Benji said, and Noah knew he didn’t mean lube. He got so wet, Noah was genuinely planning on fucking him using his precum as slick one day.
“Get your fingers wet,” Noah told him. “And fuck yourself.”
Benji let out a shaky laugh. “How many do I start with?”
“Two,” Noah said, then waited. He knew the exact moment Benji pushed in. His breath went high-pitched and wanting, a moan spilling out of him. He never got more needy than when he had something in his hole, especially when it wasn’t Noah’s cock. When it wasn’tenough.
“Oh shit,” Benji said.
Noah spat in his hand, working himself faster. “Is it good?”
“Better when you do it. I can never get deep enough—” Benji cut off with a moan, his bedsheets rustling. “Can I use a dildo?”
“No time,” Noah said. He checked his phone. Technically, he was already late, but they could wait for him. “What did you like about the paint?”
