Ben stood. His pulse thumped in the back of his skull for a moment. He pressed his fingers to his temple.
“Here.” Jacob held out a bottle of water and two aspirin. “I’ve got a little experience with hangovers. Although I’m not sure this qualifies as one because I can stand up.”
Ben took both. “Thanks.” He popped the aspirin and washed them down.
“No problem.”
“I mean, thanks for everything. Last night. Listening.” Especially the listening.
“Sure.”
Ben jabbed a thumb at the door. “I guess I better go then so you can…whatever.” He turned but couldn’t get himself to open the door. Leaving now meant he might not have the chance to know. Ben turned back around and walked over to Jacob.
“What’s—”
Ben pressed his mouth to Jacob’s. The contact ate through Ben with an electric shock, and the hunger for more had Ben pressing closer.
Jacob jumped back, eyes wide. He brought his fingers to his lips. The black of his pupils swallowed the blue of his irises. “What did you do that for?” A flush rose in Jacob’s cheeks.
Ben shook his head. “In case I don’t get the chance again.”
“You need to leave.” Jacob backed up.
“I’m sorry, I just—”
Jacob shook his head. “Go. Please, just…go.”
Ben did.
Jacob stared at the door of his motel room long after Ben left. Every so often, he’d touch his lips. The warmth of skin, Ben’s scent, it lingered. Worse, it made Jacob ache.
And he couldn’t. He couldn’t want anyone because he was in love.
But not even Marcel had ever touched Jacob with such gentleness. Not that Marcel’s touch couldn’t be light, it was just the potential for strength was always there. The power, the control, he held it all.
In those fleeting seconds when Ben kissed Jacob, there had been no walls, no veils. Ben had been stripped down to nothing. He’d surrendered himself to Jacob.
And why? Ben barely knew him.
Jacob undressed so he could shower.
Last night had been a mistake. Jacob should have sent Ben back to his room. But Ben had barely been able to stand. It wasn’t the alcohol that crippled him, it had been the overwhelming regret, the anger, the confusion, the self-hate for falling for Yvette’s game. And if he hadn’t? What would she have done?
Jacob dried off, shaved, lubed himself, and got dressed. Normally during the walk to Marcel’s, all Jacob could think about was him. This time it was Ben. The softness of his lips, the heat in his eyes.
Wasn’t it just a few days ago Ben declared he wasn’t gay? So what? Jacob was some sort of experiment? Last night, the arousal Ben had felt with Marcel had scared the hell out of him. Then today, he kissed Jacob. Why? Why would he do that?
The real question was, what was Jacob going to tell Marcel. Would he know? It wasn’t as if Ben kissing him had made a mark, and it wasn’t like Jacob had asked him to. Ben had chosen to do it.
And if Marcel did know, would he consider it a betrayal of their agreement?
Would he want to reclaim his gift?
Jacob cut through the field behind the subdivision and down the narrow alley running between the playground and the creek. He should have taken the long way around. At least then, he would have had time to deal with the questions in his head.
Who was Jacob fooling? There was no way to deal with what Ben did, how it made Jacob feel, how it made him want. Not sex, this was something beyond the pleasures of the body.
A connection to the heart.
Jacob stopped.
Something Jacob had never had before and didn’t have now.
“I love Marcel.” Jacob walked. “I do love him.” With every fiber of his being. Jacob was sure of it. How could he not love the man who saved his life, brought him back from the edge, put him together again?
Made him someone.
Or at least reminded him he was more than a strung-out whore.
New flowerbeds full of pansies and marigolds hugged the azalea bushes growing along the front of Marcel’s house. Jacob walked up the steps. The door was unlocked, and he went inside.
Marcel wasn’t in the living room. Jacob took off his shoes and hung up his jacket. “Marcel?”
“I am in Bedroom.”
The door was open.
Marcel sat in the chair across from the king-size bed. Jacob stopped in the middle of the rug. He tried to keep eye contact with Marcel, but the weight of his gaze was too much.
“Take off your shirt.”
Jacob did.
“Drop it.”
It landed near Jacob’s foot.
Marcel stood. There was no sound of fabric brushing together, even as he approached. The heat of his presence pushed against Jacob. His breath hitched, and his cock hardened. Marcel slid his scarred hand down Jacob’s side. The caress danced static over his skin.
He shivered.
The electric tingle followed Marcel’s caress across Jacob’s chest to his stomach, then back up to his neck. Marcel cradled Jacob’s face.
For a very long time, Marcel stared with a blank expression.
At what, Jacob couldn’t be too sure.
Marcel brushed his thumb over Jacob’s mouth.
The man knew. Somehow he knew.
Jacob fought against the shivers marching down his back, and all the while, Marcel traced the bow of Jacob’s lips.
Guilt shoved the words from Jacob’s mouth. “I’m sorry.” He clenched his eyes shut, willing the rise of fear to retreat. “Please, Marcel, it just happened. It didn’t mean anything.”
Marcel tilted his head. Closer, the subtle scent of washing powder mixed with the headier flavor of male musk. Saliva filled Jacob’s mouth, and he swallowed over and over.
The firmness of Marcel’s touch disappeared as he pulled away. The loss of contact struck Jacob in the chest. His knees threatened to buckle.
“Please, Marcel—”
He held up a hand, and Jacob snapped his mouth shut. Was it over? Was this all over? Would Marcel turn him out because he’d foolishly let his guard down?
The doorknob to the bedroom snicked. Before Jacob could stop himself, he turned.
Ben stood pale and sweating. His wide gaze went to Jacob, then Marcel.
“Come in. Shut the door.” Marcel undid the buttons on his shirt.
Ben tightened his grip on the doorknob, gaze tracking Marcel’s movements.
Marcel peeled away his shirt, exposing the scarred expanse of his shoulders and pitted valleys stretched over muscle. “I will not tell you again. Come in. Shut the door.”
Ben’s hands shook, and his features pinched as he pushed the door shut. Shadows filled his eyes.
Jacob had known Ben feared Marcel, but it wasn’t until Ben was in front of Jacob that he truly understood the extent of that fear. How it stripped him of his defenses, shattered his pride, maybe even threatened his very will to exist.
But that wasn’t what terrified Jacob. At that moment, not even the thought of losing Marcel terrified him. It was the realization he’d seen such a broken man before, many times, for many years.
Every time Jacob looked in a mirror.
Ben hadn’t been sure what to expect when Marcel called him with the order to be at his house at five after six. Not a minute before, not a minute late.
Jacob stood slumped. But it didn’t hinder the grace of his arms or the long fall of his back. Other than the flush in his cheeks, he was pale.
“Jacob.” Marcel’s tone was flat, but Jacob still flinched. “Undress.”
Jacob glanced at Ben, then proceeded to remove his jeans, his underwear, revealing the tight globes of his ass, the cut lines of his thighs, even his ankles were perfect.
Marcel turned. While he held Ben’s gaze, he spoke to Jacob. “Closer.”
Jacob obeyed.
“Turn around.”
Marcel worked his large hands over the button of his slacks. T
hey slid down his hips. The front of his boxer briefs bulged with the promise of arousal.
Ben dropped his gaze. On the way down, it got stuck on Jacob’s cock curving toward his stomach. The head gleamed with precum
“What do you want, Jacob?” Again, Marcel’s tone was flat.
Jacob flicked a look at Ben then looked back at Marcel. “You.”
“Do you want me to fuck you?” Marcel slid his mangled hand up Jacob’s torso. He rose up on his toes, arching back, his body becoming liquid.
“Yes.”
“Even if Ben watches?”
Jacob tossed another hesitant look at Ben, but this time it lasted less than a second. An ache beat in Ben’s chest and a sense of denial had him opening and closing his hands.
And what was he being denied?
“Step closer, Ben.”
Ben snapped his gaze up. Heat filled his cheeks.
“Here, touch him. It is what you want, yes?”
Ben started to turn.
“Don’t.”
Ben stopped.
“Look at Jacob.”
Ben didn’t want to, but he couldn’t stop from obeying the command.
Marcel had a hand on Jacob’s hip now. His hungry expression crumbled, and a high-pitched whimper filled the room. It was the slap of flesh on flesh that made it clear Marcel had shoved his cock into Jacob’s hole.
Jacob widened his stance, leaned forward, all the while his expression morphed between pain and pleasure.
A weight coiled in Ben’s stomach, settling in his balls. His cock hardened, pressing against the zipper of his jeans.
Marcel stopped, buried in Jacob who cried out, writhing, gasping. Marcel grabbed Jacob by the head of hair, and he fell silent.
“Closer, Ben.”
Ben only meant to take one step, but with every wanton sound Jacob sang, he had to be closer.
“Touch him, Ben.” Marcel rocked back and slammed forward, Jacob yelled, and Ben caught Jacob’s face. How could someone so beautiful let anyone treat him like this?
Marcel twisted his hand in Jacob’s hair. Pain crumpled Jacob’s expression. Ben glared at Marcel. Still nothing. No expression. No remorse. Not even a hint of pleasure.
How could he do that? Was it because he didn’t feel? Or because he didn’t care?
Marcel thrust, and the clap of their bodies filled the air. When he released his hold on Jacob’s hair, Ben caught the man by his shoulders.
The black of Jacob’s eyes swallowed the blue. His breaths hitched. The blush in his cheeks darkened. Jacob parted his lips, and Ben found himself leaning closer. The sudden fear in Jacob’s gaze stopped him.
“Taste him, Ben.” The smile that formed on Marcel’s lips was cruel, but his gaze remained a void.
Jacob glanced back at Marcel.
“Give him your mouth, Jacob, kiss him for me.”
Jacob closed his eyes for a moment, tears slipped down his cheeks. Marcel jerked his body, and Jacob yelled, throwing his head back, flailing his arms. He dug his grip into Ben’s biceps. The contact burned to the bone, wrapped around Ben’s cock, and threatened to make him come.
And he no longer cared. He no longer cared that Jacob was getting fucked in front of him. All he could think of was his mouth, how he could play his tongue over the swell of Jacob’s lips.
Ben pressed his mouth to Jacob’s and drowned in the rich flavor of male. There was a moment of hesitation, then Jacob opened, moaning, sucking on Ben’s tongue. He drank down the sounds Jacob made while begging with every scrape of his teeth, every touch of his lips, to give him more.
Jacob flexed his grip until the contact throbbed, until his nails threatened to break skin. Ben gasped for air, exchanging exhales with Jacob. Want, need, lust burned in his gaze.
If only Ben knew how to give Jacob those things.
Jacob was shoved forward again before falling still. Muscle drew hard lines under Marcel’s skin, and the tendons cut ridges down his neck and he eased out a breath.
Jacob stared up at Ben. Sweat matted Jacob’s hair. A droplet fell from his nose to Ben’s chest.
Marcel stepped back, cock gleaming with lubricant and come.
Jacob whimpered.
Marcel walked to the chair on the other side of the room and sat. His hard stare was a physical punch to Ben’s chest. Marcel nodded once. “Go ahead.”
Ben wrinkled his brow. Go ahead?
Marcel lifted his chin. “Finish him, Ben.”
It took Ben a minute to realize what Marcel meant. Ben looked at Jacob. He had his eyes closed, and shivers racked his lithe frame.
“Touch him. Put your hand on his cock and make him come.” Marcel folded his hands over his chest. “Or do not. But the only way Jacob will come tonight is if you make him.”
Ben swallowed so hard his throat clicked.
“Please.” Jacob’s whisper was so small, Ben thought he’d imagined it. Then Jacob looked up at him. Tears rolled down Jacob’s cheeks. He straightened up a little. The head of his cock was dark, and precum dripped from the end. Jacob shuddered and pressed closer.
“Show him, Jacob. Show Ben what he should do.”
Jacob reached for Ben. Their gazes met.
Ben didn’t pull away when Jacob caught his wrist and guided Ben’s hand to his cock.
Ben brushed his fingers over the fevered skin. Slowly he closed his grip. Jacob huffed a breath as he moved closer, putting one arm over Ben’s shoulder, the other around his waist. Ben squeezed the length of flesh, and Jacob sobbed.
“More.” Jacob rolled his hips, forcing his cock through Ben’s fist.
Ben let his hand slide down Jacob’s cock. Velvet over steel played across Ben’s palm. He sucked in a breath, and his balls tightened.
The agony marring Jacob’s expression melted into bliss. Ben stopped Jacob from arching away by holding the back of his head. The need to taste Jacob shoved Ben forward. He seized Jacob’s mouth again, thrust in his tongue, and at the same time, he quickened his strokes on Jacob’s cock.
Wet heat coated Ben’s fingers and smeared over the palm of his hand. The scent of male, sweat, and sex mixed with the light fruity scent of Jacob’s shampoo, maybe his soap, or maybe him. Ben pressed his face against Jacob’s neck. His pulse beat against Ben’s.
The urge to wrap himself around Jacob, to crawl over his body, to touch him more, was nothing like Ben had experience with any girl he’d been with. Those had been cultured, controlled thoughts, this, this urge was an untamable animal gnawing at the bars of its cage wanting out.
Maybe he was gay or at least bi. But looking at Jacob, Ben couldn’t be sure if this was about sexuality, or about the man in front of him.
That he was attracted to Jacob because of the strength he radiated.
How it made Ben feel safe. How it made him feel stronger.
Jacob blinked several times, and the drunk expression he wore fell away. He pushed back, glanced at Marcel, then dropped his gaze. The shame in his eyes was as bright as the flush in his cheeks.
The cum coating Ben’s hand cooled. With the loss of contact, the aftermath of what Ben had done left his stomach-churning.
This wasn’t something he felt. This was Marcel. He’d manipulated Ben into thinking this was more when it was nothing but a sick display for the old man’s pleasure.
Marcel stood.
Jacob remained where he was, but Ben stepped back. Hate, anger, humiliation, burned in his eyes.
If he’d had his gun, he would have surely pulled the trigger.
But it was shame that stormed in Jacob.
He’d enjoyed Ben’s touch, taken pleasure from it, and he despised himself for it.
In much the same way Jacob had come to Marcel, broken and ruined, cursed with the belief he was worthless, he stood before Marcel now, soiled with those same emotions. Only the reason was different.
Marcel had worked with Jacob for years, tearing away his nightmares, breaking down the walls of self-doubt. But those last threads stil
l tying Jacob down had refused to snap. But there was always a way. Sometimes it was patience. With others, it was action: self-induced or delivered by force. Marcel knew he would find it.
And he had.
Learning it was Ben hadn’t surprised Marcel. Then, few things did. Being open to any scenario made adaptation a reflex. Like no forethought before killing a man and no regret afterward kept him focused.
Jacob pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. His gaze went distant, and the flush rose back up in his cheeks. For so long, he’d wanted such intimacy. It was good for him to find it.
Marcel did not look at Ben when he said. “You may go.”
Ben shifted his weight, the fabric of his jeans scraped against his legs, his breathing quickened, the scent of arousal permeating his skin filled Marcel’s lungs.
Minutes passed before Ben walked out of the room, and the front door opened and closed.
The tears filling Jacob’s eyes fell.
Marcel closed the distance between him and Jacob. When he didn’t look up, Marcel hooked a finger under Jacob’s chin. “You fear.”
Jacob’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“You fear I will replace you.”
Jacob clenched his eyes shut for a moment.
“Even though I have promised that will never happen. You fear it will.” Marcel ran his thumb over Jacob’s bottom lip. “Tell me why.” Marcel knew, but he wanted Jacob to say the words. He needed to face the future just as much as he needed to face his past.
Jacob shuffled closer.
Marcel dropped his hold to Jacob’s neck. Closer, Marcel turned his head. Jacob’s exhale brushed the shell of Marcel’s ear.
“He’s Alexander’s son.”
Marcel caught Jacob’s gaze. Tears cut paths down his crimson cheeks.
“If…” Jacob wet his lips. “If you have him, you don’t need me.”
And that possibility shadowed Jacob’s expression, threatening to rip him apart. Understandable, considering what Jacob had been through. He was just an ordinary man, capable of compassion, selflessness, hate, hope, love…
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