Darrius stared at Benedict, his mouth opening and shutting. Then he pivoted away and stomped down the hall toward the chamber he’d grown up in. He wasn’t returning to his home across Town, it seemed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tossed back over his shoulder.
Benedict stung from the rejection. And he had drunk just enough to feel another emotion he rarely allowed when it came to this subject: anger. Darrius asked him the question then pretended not to understand the answer? It was so bloody unfair.
He followed after him, passing through the door into Darrius’s chamber right at his heels. “Lie to yourself, but stop lying to me,” Benedict snapped. “And stop teasing if you aren’t going to play.”
“What does that mean?” Darrius asked.
Benedict reached back and slammed the door behind himself. This was not a conversation to have where prying ears might hear, even if the servants were already abed. “You know what it means.”
Darrius stood there, his hands gripped so tightly at his sides that his knuckles were white. Then he looked down the length of Benedict for the second time. Knowing it was likely the best invitation he’d get, Benedict closed the remaining distance between them. He reached out, resting a hand on Darrius’s shoulder as he stared into his remarkable, captivating blue eyes. Jesus, those eyes.
“You don’t have to pretend this away,” he whispered, and leaned closer, so his lips almost touched Darrius’s. Oh, how he wanted this. Just as he had for a good portion of his life. And being this close...it was the most beautiful torture.
But just as he was about to kiss Darrius, the other man pressed hand to his chest and shoved him back. Back farther, three long steps until Benedict hit the door. Darrius’s face was still close to his and his eyes were lit with so many tangled emotions. So many uncertainties and questions.
He didn’t kiss Benedict, even though Darrius tilted his head and let his breath sweep over his lips. Instead he shocked Benedict to his very core by dropping to his knees before him.
“Darrius,” he whispered.
“Shut up,” Darrius responded, and with a flick of his wrist, he unfastened the fall front on Benedict’s trousers. It fell forward and his cock was revealed.
He was already starting to get hard just from seeing Darrius on his knees before him, but when Darrius caught him in hand, looking up at him as he stroked his length, full hardness was instantaneous and almost painfully sensitive. He surged forward, almost against his will and Darrius let out a groan as if this pleased him as much.
Darrius’s grip tightened as he leaned forward, brushing the head of Benedict’s cock against his cheek, letting him feel the rough beginnings of stubble on the sensitive flesh.
“Please,” Benedict choked out, helpless as he gripped his fingers against the door.
Darrius said nothing, he just turned his face, and his mouth closed around Benedict, taking his full length deep into his throat. Benedict almost lost consciousness with the sensation of wet heat, gentle suction, the swirl of Darrius’s tongue against his length, around his length.
“Fuck,” he breathed, dropping his head back to thunk against the door and dragging a hand into Darrius’s thick hair. As the locks tangled around his fingers, Darrius let out a moan that vibrated against Benedict’s cock, streaking pleasure through what felt like every nerve in his body.
He began to take Benedict deeper, harder, faster, sucking and licking. They moaned in time together as Benedict thrust, pleasure driving him out of control, the buzz of liquor keeping him from overthinking anything but sensation. He just wanted to take this man’s mouth, he wanted to come, he wanted to make Darrius come afterward until they were a sweaty pile of satiated pleasure.
Then he wanted to sleep and start all over again in the morning.
Those thoughts and all others fled his mind as Darrius began slower, deeper, more purposeful tugs on his cock with his mouth. He stroked the base with his hand, too, drawing out his release from him with purpose and drive. Benedict couldn’t resist him, even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. He shut his eyes, he let the waves rush over him and he came.
Darrius didn’t stop mouth-fucking him, taking every drop of his release without hesitation until he sagged against the door, panting and weak with pleasure. He opened his eyes and looked down at Darrius, still on his knees, hair mussed from Benedict’s fingers, gaze bright with passion.
And then something shifted. The light went out of those blue eyes, replaced with recognition and worse, regret.
“There, now you’ve had what you want,” Darrius grunted, wiping the remnants of slick pleasure from his shining lips as he pushed to his feet.
Benedict reached for him. Now was not the time to hold back anymore. Now that he had felt this man’s passion, he had to try harder. “That isn’t all I want, Darrius.”
There was a moment when Darrius froze, staring at him almost as if he didn’t understand those words. Or perhaps he understood them far too well.
“Well, it’s all we’ll ever have,” Darrius said, stepping away from him, turning his back. “And it will never be repeated.”
Benedict stared at him. Heard the finality in his voice. Saw it in the way he straightened his shoulders and refused to turn back. And Benedict’s heart broke in his chest, that feeling of grief replacing all the pleasure he’d just felt with this man. He knew Darrius too well. If he declared a position, it was almost impossible to change it. He was stone, too hard to be permeated, even by hope.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he choked out. He wanted to say a thousand other things, imprudent things, true things. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not ever. So he turned on his heel and left the chamber, tucking himself back into place as he did.
And hating that this is what they’d come to, hating what it would do to them from this moment forward.
CHAPTER 1
