I’m watching him come undone on my dick, feeling this overwhelming affection—possession—obsession.
Ilay down on top of him—wrapping an arm under his waist and the other to rest my hand behind his head. I fuck into him just where he wants it. Not too hard—not too fast. A steady medium as he cries onto my shoulder, shuddering against me. I can feel his leaking cock against my stomach.
“Benjamin—” I whisper to him, holding him so close, so tight. “I will love you forever—until the day I die.Welcome home.” Benjamin moans so loud I have to shift my head a bit to move my ear away. I can feel the hot spurts of his come as he comes fully undone. I keep fucking into him—letting my own pleasure build and build—holding him as tightly as I can.
“Aaron—” He whimpers. “Youaremy home.” My eyes shoot open but before I can lift my head to see his face I’m following right behind him—coming deep inside—moaning into the pillow next to his head. My thrusts uncoordinated, my body shaking.
“God, really? Fuck, baby—feels so good.Ah, yesss.” I’m rambling to him—riding it out—my come leaking out with each thrust.
“Yes, really. I love you, my little blue bird.”
A high-pitched whine leaves me—the last bit of my orgasm far too intense. When I can breathe again, I stop moving, dropping like deadweight on top of Benjamin.
“I love it when you do that.” He admits after taking a moment for us to breathe. I turn my face away from the pillow so he can hear me.
“What? Sex?”
“No. When it’s so good—when I’ve got you so far into it that you whine like that. It’s so fucking hot.” This confession makes me laugh—enjoying his little gasp when I move my hips—pushing my soft dick in further.
“I’m glad. I don’t really care for it myself—but if you like it then so be it.” Benjamin runs his hands through my hair—hums a tune—draws shapes on my back. “So—what did you think?”
“About what?” Benjamin asks.
“Your first time having sex in your first home.”
“It was the same as every other time I’ve had sex with you. Unforgettable—overwhelming—soul-stealing. Doing it here doesn’t feel much different when you’ve been holding me this tight long before we moved in.” I lift my head to see him and he’s been crying again. I kiss some of the tears away.
“You okay?” He nods.
“I love it here. Thank you. I can’t wait to exist here with you.” He’s holding my face again as I stare down into his big hazel eyes.
“I would do anything for you. Exist with you anywhere. I love you, Benjamin.” He grins.
“No take-backs.”
???
Thanksgiving comes around in the blink of an eye. Benjamin and I make the trip back to Lancaster to stay at my parents’ place, leaving our cozy new home behind for the long weekend.
“Ugh—they’re never as good as you remember them being.” Benjamin has his sock-covered feet on the dash of my truck—eating the pizza Combos I got him when we stopped for gas. “Fe and I used to share a bag of these every time we went on a trip and they wereamazing. Now? Cardboard.” He rolls the bag up and puts it back with the other snacks—poking around.
“You’re about to steal my snacks—aren’t you?” He smiles at me sweetly, hand still in the snack bag.
“What’s yours is mine now, Aaron Archer.” I roll my eyes, looking back at the road.
“Pretty sure you’ve been stealing my shit since we were kids—but whatever excuse makes you feel better, baby. Hand me a Tootsie Pop will you?”
We plan on stopping at Benjamin’s old house on the way to my parents—per his request. We recently found out it’s his now that both of his parents are dead, so we have to get the keys from the lockbox on the door. I can tell he’s more freaked out by it than he pretends to be, but I say nothing. Instead—I spentmost of my morning in our bed with him—slowly swallowing him whole until he cried and begged. Maybe that’ll make it easier to face.
When we get to the Dickinson house it looks exactly the same. Gross—depressing, and very much like a conduit for all things evil. Benjamin takes a very long, deep breath and gets out of the truck. He makes it halfway up the lawn before he stops—staring straight ahead—perfectly still. I follow him out of the truck and up the lawn, taking his hand in mine. The one with my ring—my bracelet.
“Aaron—” he starts, staring at the front door. “I want this house to rot.”
“Okay.”
“No one will ever go in there again. Not if I can help it. Leave everything inside. Let’s not touch anything in there ever again. They both died in there; I bled in there for so long. Begged and pleaded.” I’m squeezing his hand—doing my best to not cry. I need to be his shoulder right now. “Such an evil house. I spent so many years waiting to die here. Just like he said.” He turns to me then. “I want the last memory I have of this house being him dying on the floor—you saving me. Let’s let it rot, Aaron. I don’t care what anyone says. And if the city asks to tear it down—we’ll let them. Get rid of all of it.”
He’s not crying—as if he refuses to give his parents those precious teardrops. As if they aren’t worth the effort—the emotion. I raise his hand, kiss the back of it.
