“I’ll wear it,” Benji panted. “I’ll wear whatever you want. Wanna be plugged up, want your come running down my legs. Want you to carry me over the threshold and shove my dress up and fuck me right?—”
He cut off, his back arching against the couch as Noah fucked right against his prostate in short, hard strokes.
“Ohhhshit,” he wailed. He still sounded amazed, as he always did when he couldn’t get hard and was still begging for it.
Noah slapped a hand over his mouth and stared down at Benji’s caged cock, watching it slap helplessly against Benji’s stomach as Noah fucked him faster.
“Whatever I want,” Noah repeated, drunk with it. He wouldn’t actually make Benji wear something he didn’t want to wear in front of his family, but he could see how much Benji needed him to say it. “You’ll wear whatever I want, do whatever I say, take it whenever I want you.”
Benji nodded, his nails digging into his thighs. His mouth was open, gasping as Noah bounced him up and down against the couch.
“Why,” Noah asked, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. “Is. That?”
He let go of Benji’s mouth. If Benji yelled again, the staff would just have to cope. Noah had to buy them a new couch anyway.
“You’re my Daddy,” Benji slurred.
It felt like something crucial clicking into place. Noah buried himself to the hilt and came, his mind a hot pulse ofmine, mine, mine.
CHAPTER 15
It was 6:00 a.m. and Noah was thinking about forever.
He leaned back against the fridge and eyed the email Desmond had sent him. The subject line wasstate laws re: adoption. It was just one of the many ideas Desmond had floated to “improve their image as a couple,” most of which were sent before the marriage announcement interview came out and the public’s opinion started to reluctantly improve.
Noah hadn’t checked online. But Desmond had assured him that the consensus was that Benji was an innocent sweetheart who was living out a movie plot. Desmond also read out a post that called Benji “a shaky chihuahua learning how to be loved,” which Noah would never tell Benji.
He tucked his phone away as he heard footsteps coming down the hall.
“Hey,” he said as Max slouched into the kitchen. “You’re up early.”
Max mumbled wordlessly and gestured at the fridge.
Noah moved out of the way. Max groped for the fridge door, his eyes still half-closed.
“You’re upveryearly,” Noah clarified. “Did you get too excited about the potato clock to sleep?”
Max groaned, foregoing the fridge entirely to turn around and glare sleepily at him.
“It’s sopedestrian,” he complained. “Like, she’sseenwhat I can do in her class! And she assigns us allpotato clocks? At least give me a different assignment so I’m not falling asleep during class!”
Noah grinned, opening the fridge so Max could get to the orange juice. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and develop Matilda powers from your lack of brain use.”
“Here’s hoping,” Max yawned. He dragged the orange juice out, setting it on the counter. “Can’t believe you never read Roald Dahl. Never thought I’d have to explain Matilda to anadult.”
“My parents weren’t ones for books,” Noah said as he fetched him a glass.
Max grunted his thanks and started pouring, only splashing a little onto the counter.
Noah wiped it up with a paper towel. He’d installed the rack sometime after Benji started spending serious time here and Noah started using the kitchen more, like he’d always wanted. It was easier to cook when he was doing it for someone else.
“So,” he said as he threw the paper towel in the robotic trash can Max had gleefully picked out last month when they were moving in. “Why the?—?”
The robotic trash can interrupted, blue eyes appearing in its LED screen. “Thank you for the food.”
“You’re welcome,” said Noah and Max as one.
Noah turned back to Max and continued, “Why the early start, if it wasn’t potato clock excitement? You only get up this early when your head is busy.”
