Anna Martin's British Boys Box Set: My Prince - The Impossible Boy - Cricket

by Anna Martin

  “Three pounds? Where? Let me find them.”

  With one hand easily supporting the weight of Stan’s body, Ben pushed his other hand up under the T-shirt and dug his fingers into Stan’s ribs to make him laugh and squirm.

  “I love you,” Ben said as he moved his lips to the pulse point in Stan’s neck and rested there. “I don’t tell you enough. I love you.”

  “I love you too. Take me to bed.”

  Ben’s mouth stretched into a grin. “It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

  “No one’s home. Please, Ben.”

  “Oh, alright,” Ben said with a long-suffering sigh neither of them believed.

  It took longer than it should have, stumbling over each other in their rush to get upstairs to the sanctuary of their room. Stan kept it tidy when Ben wasn’t around to mess it up, and one of the skylight windows was cracked open, letting a soft, cool breeze into the room.

  Ben noticed all of that, even as Stan pulled Ben’s T-shirt up over his head and tossed it in a corner somewhere, then ran his hands possessively over Ben’s chest.

  “God, I missed you,” Stan murmured as he kissed from one shoulder to the next.

  “Missed you too. Fuck. Take some clothes off, would you?”

  Stan was laughing as they stumbled towards the bed, kicking off shoes and wriggling out of jeans that were always too tight. When they were down to underwear, Ben pulled Stan close to his chest and held him there, desperate for the feel of their skin pressed together. Stan ran his fingers through Ben’s hair and kissed him slowly, deep and needing.

  “Want me inside you?” Ben asked, mouthing softly at Stan’s neck.

  Stan shook his head. They were building up to that again.

  “Just want to feel you.”

  “We can do that.”

  Ben kissed over Stan’s chest, licking and nibbling, taking Stan’s nipples into his mouth in turn and lapping at them until Stan was arching up into the touch. His fingers were in Ben’s hair, tugging and insistent, pulling him back up from where he’d been licking Stan’s hip bones for a slow, sure kiss.

  “Off, off,” Stan muttered, using his bare feet to nudge Ben’s boxers down over his hips.

  Ben was laughing as he helped, then kicked the last of his clothes off as he settled down next to Stan, running his fingers over Stan’s long, lean body.

  “You still want me… even like this?”

  Ben ran his fingernails over Stan’s ribs. Sure, they still stood out a little. But Stan was so much better than he had been before.

  “I want all of you.” He skimmed his fingers down again to press his palm to Stan’s cock. “I love every part of you. All of it.”

  Stan whimpered in the back of his throat, and Ben chased the noise away with more kisses, slipping his hand into Stan’s tight, black boxers and gently stroking his cock. Stan grabbed for Ben’s dick too, making it about both of them, and for long minutes they let slow kisses and frantic hands take over.

  “There’s lube and stuff in the drawer,” Ben said. “You’re closest.”

  Stan was a little out of breath already, just from kissing and petting, but oh God, did lube make things better. And he was closest.

  As expected, when he leaned over, Ben dove for his ass, kissing and licking his lower back and tugging the boxers the rest of the way off. Stan was giggling when he rolled back over with the tube and let Ben nuzzle into his hip.

  “Can I…?”

  “Always.”

  That wasn’t strictly true. Being on the receiving end of a blowjob wasn’t always Stan’s favourite thing, but Ben always asked, and Stan loved that he did. It helped that Ben was really, really good at sucking his dick. He was always so gentle and he did that thing with his tongue and—Stan arched off the bed and a noise he didn’t recognise was ripped from his throat.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  Ben gently tugged on his balls, staving off the imminent orgasm, and muttered something about lube.

  Stan handed it to him blind.

  After some fumbling Ben grunted out a curse or two, then his slick hand wrapped around both Stan’s dick and his own and oh, fuck that was a brilliant idea.

  It also meant they could kiss, sloppy and loose, as Ben worked their cocks together, and Stan was on some kind of hair trigger from missing him. That had to be the explanation because he was so close to coming and Ben was panting above him, nipping at Stan’s collarbone and it was perfect.

  The pleasure trembled through Stan’s body, filling him and making his heart ache with love for this man. He curled his fingers around the back of Ben’s neck, holding him close, and Ben’s kisses were whisper-light over Stan’s lips.

  “I love you,” Ben murmured. “Come with me. I love you.”

  Stan didn’t cry out, didn’t buck or thrash like he sometimes did when his orgasm hit like a sucker punch to the gut. His toes contracted and something pulled in his belly and the noise that escaped his lips was a sob.

  This lovemaking soothed him, and as they climaxed together, vibrating with shared pleasure, Stan found a part of himself clicking into place. He was a lover. A partner. The two of them together made something, created something, and it was beautiful and unique and theirs.

  Ben fell forward as he caught his breath. Stan wrapped both arms around his back, silently begging him to stay close, please, just a little longer. His finger stole into Ben’s hair, all inky blackness and silky-smooth as he stroked it back.

  When Ben kissed him again, it was to gather the salty tears from Stan’s cheeks, then to share them with his lips.

  “Don’t leave me, please,” Stan murmured. “I missed you too much. I can live without you, but God, Ben, I don’t want to.”

  “Not leaving you,” Ben said. His voice sounded thick. “Me and you.”

  They wriggled for a few moments, Ben cleaning up their bellies with a discarded T-shirt, then rolling onto his back and bringing Stan to sprawl on top of him. Stan dragged the duvet up to cover his naked back and pressed his face to Ben’s neck, strangely pleased when Ben wrapped one arm around his waist and settled the other hand on his ass.

  They lay together like that for a while, snoozing a little, Ben’s hand brushing back and forth over the smooth skin of Stan’s ass. This was familiar, loving, perfect; all the things Stan had ever wanted from a relationship.

  When they woke up again, the sky outside was almost luminous pink, the clouds reflecting a vibrantly setting sun. Ben started the task of untangling Stan’s hair with his fingers; an excuse, Stan always thought, for them to be touching.

  “What did you think of me when we first met?”

  Ben frowned and pushed a long strand of Stan’s hair away from his face, tucking it neatly behind his ear. “What do you mean? When you first came into the pub?”

  “Yes. I’m curious.”

  “Well….”

  “I won’t think any different of you, I promise. I really just want to know.”

  “I’m pretty sure I thought you were a girl when you first walked in,” Ben said. “I was serving Gary, one of the regulars, and I looked up and saw this long-legged goddess striding through the pub. You walked in and I had to fight Tone to be allowed to serve you.”

  “Really?” Stan said with a laugh.

  “Oh, yeah. You know what Tone’s like—he sees a pretty girl, and he’s all over her.”

  “He’s not a creep, though,” Stan said, feeling strangely protective of his newest best friend.

  “If you say so,” Ben said. “He let me come over, anyway, and I thought you were even more beautiful up close.”

  “You’re just saying that because I just blew you.”

  Ben laughed and kissed Stan’s cheek. “Nope. I realised you were a boy pretty quickly. Then you asked for a beer, and the rest is history.”

  “You called me.”

  “Yeah. Well, you were the one with enough balls to leave your number for me.”

  Stan shrugged. “I figured you could call me, and that
would be great, or you wouldn’t. London is a big city. I could easily avoid you for the rest of my life.”

  Ben laughed and pressed a kiss to Stan’s neck. “I was scared to call you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you might have answered.”

  “You’re so silly,” Stan said with a long sigh. He let the moment linger between them, fresh air and sweat and spunk, then kissed the shell of Ben’s ear. “I’m really glad you called.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ben woke alone in his bed. He stretched, searching for Stan’s familiar warm weight, and met nothing but cool sheets.

  That wasn’t so unusual. Stan had never really broken his habit of rising early, though Ben was often aware of him slipping out of bed. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told him it was only eight thirty, ridiculously early for a Sunday, but if Stan wasn’t in bed with him, Ben wasn’t interested in being there alone.

  With a groan, he heaved himself up and stumbled through to the small en-suite bathroom. It took a few minutes for him to feel normal again—face washed, bladder emptied, a pair of boxers pulled on to cover his naked ass. And a T-shirt, after a moment’s hesitation.

  Ben guessed no one else was awake yet, probably just Stan, pottering around as he liked to do. Instead he found both Stan and Tone in the conservatory at the back of the house doing what looked like yoga.

  “Stan?”

  “Shh,” Stan said softly. He was sat cross-legged on a yoga mat, hands on his knees, spine straight, breathing evenly. Ben couldn’t help letting his lips twitch into a smile. Stan’s long hair was flowing softly down his back, a shiny waterfall of blond, over the very loose, white tank top he’d put on over tight, grey yoga pants.

  Next to him was Tone. Wearing a battered Jack Daniels T-shirt and black boxers, his beard scruffy, he also sat on a yoga mat, breathing deeply with his eyes closed.

  Ben turned back around and went to the kitchen to make coffee.

  It was late September, and autumn was being unseasonably kind to them. For a week or more, it had been warm, midsummer temperature, and Stan in particular was making the most of the last of the sunshine. In the kitchen, the sun streamed in through the low window, and Ben took his time wandering around, seeking out biscuits to go with his coffee, tidying away the last few things they’d used the night before. Kirsty had come over for dinner again. Ben was starting to lose faith in Tone’s protestations that they were “just friends.”

  When the coffee was done brewing, Ben made himself a large mug and wandered back through to the conservatory. He knew nothing about yoga, though he was pretty sure Stan and Tone were doing the “downward dog.” Not wanting to laugh at them, he left again and went into the living room, turned on the TV, and muted the sound as he switched it to the BBC News channel.

  A few minutes later, Stan came in and planted himself decisively on Ben’s lap.

  “Morning,” Ben said softly.

  “Morning.” Stan stole his coffee cup and took a sip. Then winced and handed it back.

  “What were you doing?”

  “Sun salutations,” Stan said easily. He took one of Ben’s biscuits instead.

  “Okay.”

  “It’s a great way to get your blood moving. A good start to the day.”

  “Why was Tone doing it with you?”

  “Because he likes yoga too.” Stan kissed Ben on the cheek. “Can we go out somewhere today?”

  “Of course.”

  They stayed like that, curled up on the sofa for most of the morning. The house slowly woke up around them, people moving, the old corners creaking and groaning as people stumbled towards showers to wash away the lingering hangovers.

  Ben had pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around them both. Stan was clearly cold after his workout but refused to leave Ben’s lap to go and get dressed. It suited them both just fine to cuddle together for warmth. Ben brushed his lips up and down Stan’s neck, gathering the scent and the taste of him, keeping his arms secure around Stan’s waist.

  “I am so ridiculously in love with you.”

  Stan turned and gave him one of his most devastating smiles. Leaning in slowly, he bumped their noses together.

  “I know.”

  Summer thundered down the stairs before anyone else. Ben didn’t know where Tone had disappeared to after his sun salutations, but he definitely wasn’t around the ground floor anywhere. Summer stuck her pink-haired head around the living room door, rolled her eyes at both of them, then headed to the kitchen. After a moment, the radio came on, and Ben shifted on the sofa, stretching his legs out until his knees clunked.

  “Do you want some breakfast?”

  Stan nodded. “Sure. I think I still have some strawberries left from yesterday.”

  Ben kissed him again, because he could, and for all the other reasons he was currently unable to name.

  On lazy days, no one really got dressed. It was an unwritten house rule. Summer had spent enough time with the guys on tour that she paid absolutely no attention at all to when they wandered around naked. In the kitchen, Summer was wearing what looked like men’s pyjama bottoms and a tank top, one that was tight enough to make Tone leery when he reappeared. Whether Kirsty was his girlfriend in the making or not clearly didn’t make any difference.

  “Mornin’,” Tone drawled.

  “How are you feeling?” Stan asked, going to the kettle to boil water for tea. Unlike the others, he still preferred green tea in the mornings.

  “Not bad. You might be onto something with this yoga malarkey,” Tone said with a grin. Stan rolled his eyes, and Ben thought he was making some effort not to do the same.

  One by one, the kitchen filled up with the rest of their housemates. Tone lit all the burners on the hob and pulled down half a dozen pans, starting the process of a full English. Ben was thrown a loaf of bread, and he got started on the toast-making process, sat on the counter next to the toaster.

  “Here,” Tone said, and Ben looked up to see him place a bowl of porridge in front of Stan, who sat at their huge kitchen table. Stan grinned.

  “Thanks.”

  Ben said nothing, just watched as Stan upended his bowl of carefully prepared strawberries on top of the porridge and started eating.

  “How come he does that for you?” Ben asked Tone in a low voice.

  “What?”

  “Eats.”

  Tone snorted. “Because I don’t make a big song and dance about it.” The like you do was silent, but clearly implied.

  Ben still pouted.

  “Look, mate,” Tone said, going back to the hob and forcing Ben to follow him, “You still don’t get it. We joke about those chocolates but do you know how long it took him to eat them?”

  “No,” Ben said, looking over his shoulder to make sure Stan wasn’t overhearing their conversation. He was talking to Summer, though, not paying any attention to them.

  “Over a month. And there wasn’t even a dozen chocolates in the box.”

  “He was a vegan and you gave him fried chicken.”

  Tone rolled his eyes so hard Ben thought it must have hurt. “Jesus. He ate half a piece and picked most of the coating off. I’m not some magic, anti-anorexia fairy. You spend so much time worrying about shit you don’t see the bigger picture.”

  The next batch of toast popped up and Ben loaded the pieces onto a plate, burning his fingers in the process.

  “Bigger picture,” he muttered.

  “Yeah,” Tone said. “Bigger fucking picture. And chill the fuck out. You want bacon?”

  “Nah, just eggs, please.”

  Tone passed him the huge frying pan, and Ben piled the eggs on top of his toast, then went and sat down next to Stan. “That good?” he asked.

  Stan nodded. “Yeah. I know he only does it in the microwave, but whenever I try, it goes all gluey.”

  “Tone has a special affinity with microwaves,” Ben said, pleased when Stan
laughed.

  “Yeah, he does.”

  “Hey, hey,” Summer yelled suddenly. “Shut up, shut up.”

  She was frowning hard and Tone looked over at her, worry clear in his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Shush.” She waved a hand at him demonstratively and reached over to turn up the radio.

  “…is a band I saw a few weeks back at the Brixton Academy,” the radio DJ said. “They’re new, they recently toured with Racket City, and they’re really good, amazing live, so go see them if you can. I got sent an advance copy of their EP, and it’s pretty awesome. I’m going to play you one of the songs off that record now—this is Ares with ‘Out of Here.’”

  Ben felt his jaw drop as the first clashing chords—his clashing chords came through their little radio.

  “Holy shit,” he breathed.

  “What the fuck?” Tone demanded as Ben heard his own voice start to sing the melody, then Summer’s sweet harmony over the top. “What radio station is this?”

  “Radio One,” Summer said. She was shaking her head in disbelief. “It’s Radio fucking One, you guys.”

  “I didn’t think…” Jez started, then shook his head and pushed his fingers into his hair. “I never thought they’d actually play it.”

  “You sent them the fucking EP?” Geordie demanded.

  “Well yeah,” Jez said. “I sent it to a bunch of radio stations. We finished the mix, and it was sounding good, so I just….”

  “Tweet them,” Stan said. “From the band account. Quickly.”

  Summer fumbled from her phone and tapped at it furiously. Ben could feel his heart thumping hard in his chest. They were being played on the biggest radio station in the U.K. If they wanted a big break, this was likely it.

  “Done,” Summer said. “I hope they get it.”

  “They’ll have social media guys waiting for something like this,” Stan told her. “Just hang on.”

  The song ended, and Summer shushed them all again.

  “That was Ares and ‘Out of Here,’” the DJ said. “It seems like you guys like it. We’ve had a whole load of tweets and texts about this song, so go check them out if you can—they’re an unsigned band creating some great new music. Next up is the news and weather. ”