We go inside when the sky starts to darken. Benji moves through the space, adjusting things, turning Frankie a degree, closing the curtain halfway to block the bar sign’s neon from the bed. He lights one of the battery candles left over from the wedding and sets it on the nightstand. The warm flicker turns the bedroom into something that doesn’t belong in a loft above a bar.
He comes to the bed where I’m already sitting, having done the transfer while he was arranging the light. He stands in front of me and his fingers go to the hem of the shirt, my shirt, the white one he’s been wearing all day, and he pulls it over his head in one motion. His skin is tan and warm in the flicker and the shadows carve the lean muscles of his stomach and V of his hips above his shorts.
“Last night,” he says softly.
“Don’t call it that.”
“Last night of this trip,” Benji clarifies, brushing his fingers through my hair. “Not last night ever. I’ll be back in two weeks.”
“Two weeks feels like forever.”
“I know.” He leans in and kisses me. “I’m going to miss you. Get your shirt off.”
I pull it over my head. He climbs onto the bed and settles on my lap, knees on either side of my hips, our faces close. His hands rest on my chest as he kisses me again. The kiss deepens, full of everything we’re trying not to say out loud — how much we’re going to miss this, how much we’ve come to need each other.
There’s no rush tonight. Just the weight of time slipping away and the need to remember every touch. When we’re both naked, Benji lies beside me for a moment, chest to chest, legs tangled, breathing me in.
He rolls over and kisses his way down my chest, my stomach, until his mouth hovers over me. He looks up, eyes shining.
“I want to get you hard with my mouth,” he whispers. “Let me take care of you.”
His lips close around me. He takes his time, sucking gently, using his tongue. I thread my fingers through his hair, moaning as he works me until I’m fully hard in his mouth.
When he finally pulls off, his lips are swollen and wet. “I need you inside me,” he says. “One more time before I go.”
“Come here,” I tell him.
Benji shifts and lies sideways across my lap, his upper body resting on the bed beside me so he can still look at my face. His lean legs stretch out across my thighs, giving me perfect access.
I warm the lube between my fingers and reach for him. I spread one cheek and press a slick finger against his entrance, sliding it inside. Benji exhales a shaky breath, his eyes staying on mine.
“Feels good?” I ask, adding a second finger.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Really good.”
I work him open gently, curling my fingers, watching every flicker of pleasure across his face. His hair falls across his forehead as he pushes back against my hand. The sight of him watching me nearly undoes me.
“I’ll miss doing this,” I murmur. “I’ll miss everything about you while you’re gone.”
Benji’s breathing grows ragged. “Mickey… I’m ready. I want you now.”
I slick my cock generously and reach for him. He shifts back into position, straddling my hips, and sinks down onto me in one smooth motion. The tight heat of him envelops me completely. We both groan as he bottoms out.
He starts riding me with deep rolls of his hips. I wrap my hand around his leaking cock and stroke him steadily, matching his rhythm.
“Fuck, that feels good,” he gasps, eyes half-closed.
I keep my grip firm, thumb gliding over the slick head on every upstroke. His lean body moves above me. Neither of us is trying to make it last anymore. We’re both holding on too hard, moving together like we can somehow outrun tomorrow morning.
When it hits, Benji comes first with a low, broken moan, spilling across my stomach. The feeling of him clenching around me pulls me over right after. I grip his hips and come deep inside him with a rough groan.
Benji collapses against my chest afterward. I run my hand up and down his back, then kiss the top of his head. Leaning down, I inhale the scent of his hair. Two weeks apart from him will seem like forever. I tighten my arms around him as if that will keep him with me longer.
“Is everything okay?” I ask him. He’s quieter than usual and it’s making me uneasy.
“Yeah,” he says. “Just… don’t disappear on me, Mickey.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say.
