Benched: Volumes 4-6 Boxed Set

by Misha Horne

Kyle raised onto his knees, let Juno position him with soft words and pillows, turning his ass into the center of the universe, the gentle hum of humiliation mixed with the rabid attention making him breathless.

  “God, you look hot like that.”

  “I know.”

  Juno laughed, finally slipping his hands between Kyle’s legs, shoving his knees wider apart, and treating his throbbing cheeks to everything his mouth had to offer, licking and sucking and biting as his fingers curled around the backs of his thighs.

  When he grabbed him hard and spread him open, teasing slow circles around his rim with the tip of his tongue, Kyle jumped and whined like it was the first time. It was like a switch had flipped somewhere he couldn’t even reach, making everything more intense, more… just more.

  “Fuck.”

  “Okay?” Juno kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other. “Tell me. I can stop.”

  “No. I’m okay. Please.”

  “Gonna take such good care of you.”

  “I know.”

  He wanted Juno inside him again, needed to be stretched and claimed and filled. But his mouth. God, his mouth. Sucking and teasing so softly at the back of his balls, the tip of his tongue teasing into his hole and then out, barely there, but overwhelming. Then plunging inside and eating him like he couldn’t get enough. Tapping his ass with tiny, soft slaps as he soaked his hole, turned him into a trembling, dripping mess.

  Kyle whimpered as the mattress dipped, watched out of the corner of his eye as Juno stood up. He watched his shirt drop to the ground, then his jeans and boxers as he stepped out of them. Watched his ass as he bent over to reach into the nightstand drawer. Then he heard the bottle crack open and waited, breathing short, quick breaths as Juno climbed back onto the bed behind him, kissing his back and shoulders as he leaned over him.

  “Gonna lube you up now, okay? Make you all wet. Then I’m gonna stretch you out. Just like last night. We’ll take it nice and slow until you’re ready.”

  “Not too slow.”

  Juno chuckled, and Kyle could feel his breath against him, the stubble on his jaw scrape his skin, vibrating through him.

  “Not too slow. I promise.”

  God, the lube felt filthy. He wasn’t sure how that slick wetness seemed so much dirtier than having Juno’s tongue in his ass, but he blushed every time he felt it smeared against his hole. Burned with humiliation when he felt Juno’s fingers exploring him, pushing it inside him, stretching and slicking him so he could accommodate his thick, needy cock.

  It didn’t matter that Juno was frustratingly, almost disturbingly gentle. He still felt so dirty being prepared that way. And god, did he get off on it. Being coaxed open just so Juno could fuck him. He felt like nothing and everything all at once. He was spoiled in every sense of the word.

  He moaned, shifting his body so his legs were spread wider and his ass tilted higher. Behind him, he heard a hard, rough, animal sound, one he recognized and loved being responsible for. Juno wanted him.

  “Don’t ask. Please? Juno? Don’t ask, just do it.”

  It was probably the hardest thing he could ask for, probably wasn’t even right to ask for it, but he needed to be wanted. Craved so much that someone could lose control, even just a little. When he felt the smooth, round head of Juno’s cock press against him, it was exactly what his body was crying out for. He ached to be owned, to be taken.

  “Please.”

  Juno sank into him, fast and deep, Kyle’s body feeling like it was pulling him in. He opened his mouth to scream, but all he could manage were quiet gasps of pleasure.

  “Oh, god. Never. Fuck. All…”

  His brain was short circuiting, his words a jumbled mess as Juno chuckled in his ear, the sound as warm as his body against him.

  “I know, rook. I know. God, you’re so hot. Fuck. You’re so perfect.”

  Kyle groaned, feeling strangely complete, hard cock and swollen ego stuffing him to capacity. For a second, he was truly, fully satisfied, blissed out on contentment.

  For a second. And then he needed more.

  He ground back and pulled forward, feeding on the friction as he fucked himself on Juno’s cock, filling himself, hot and hard, in and out, buzzing on the resistance and the burn. Juno held him loosely by the hips, helping him, guiding him, but letting him do what he wanted, what he needed, testing the limits of what he could take.

  Every sound he yanked from Juno’s throat made him more powerful, more greedy, and he slowed his movements, clenching and stretching to try and pull the most from him. Until Juno’s hand came down hard on his ass, and he nearly blacked out from the pleasure, the way his whole body vibrated around the cock nestled deep inside him, the way his ass flamed back to life, a raging wildfire spreading across his skin. Juno’s breath was shaking and shallow in his ear, and he waited and listened as it evened and filled back out.

  “You’re done,” Juno growled, biting down hard on his ear. “My turn.”

  Juno shoved his head down, smashed his face into the pillows, nudged his legs wider, and spanked him hard, one cheek and then the other until his entire body burned. Until his balls were tight and aching, and he was dripping on the sheets.

  And then he fucked him. Hard and steady with a dirty string of words that would have made him blush if he wasn’t already blushing, made him gasp if he wasn’t already out of breath. Each smooth thrust sent him spiraling out further than he’d ever been, touching something inside him that was so blindingly pleasurable, it was like he’d never been touched before.

  “Come for me, rook,” he finally whispered, reaching around him and wrapped his hand around Kyle’s heavy, aching cock.

  Kyle tried to hold back, not wanting to lose the closeness, the fullness, the power. But, then Juno’s body suddenly stiffened behind him, his fingers curling around his hip, pulling him back, holding him close, squeezing and pumping his slippery cock with his other hand as he came. There was no holding back after that. He shot hot streams into the sheets as Juno jerked his cock, whining as he squeezed him and stroked him long after he was empty.

  Juno pulled out of him gently, rubbing and soothing him as he did, realizing, even if he didn’t understand, how much he hated losing him, how much he hated separating afterwards. He wasn’t really sure himself why it was so difficult, just that it hurt, deep in his chest when the connection disappeared. Still. He wouldn’t trade it.

  “That feels better than anything else in the world.”

  “No argument here,” Juno agreed. “God, I bet you’re more sore than you’ve ever been in your life.”

  “So worth it.”

  Juno laughed. “Next time I’m gonna sit you on my lap. Let you be in charge.”

  “I thought I was in charge.”

  “You wish.”

  “I made you come first, though.”

  “It’s not a competition.”

  “Yes, it is. I think you came first before, too.”

  “Wrong.” Juno slid his hand down his back, cupping his ass. “God, you’re so warm. You know I haven’t fucked you yet without me spanking you first?”

  “Yeah. I still remember all two times.”

  He gave his ass a soft slap. “Smart ass.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t care if you never do. It feels amazing. You rub against me and my skin’s so hot, it’s like a shock through my whole body. When you started spanking me and slamming into me…”

  Juno groaned. “Next time, you’re coming first.”

  “I thought it wasn’t a competition.”

  “It’s not. Until I win.”

  Kyle laughed. “I love fucking a jock.”

  “You and me both.”

  “I feel like you could break me in half.”

  “I think you could break yourself in half. You fuck like an animal.”

  “Good, right?”

  “Yeah, good.”

  As Juno rubbed his back, Kyle opened his hand, staring down at the key he was still holding onto. The
teeth dug deep marks into his skin, his palm purple and tender, each throb of pain reminding him where he belonged, who he belonged to. He felt like he’d been branded.

  And he liked it.

  * * *

  BENCHED #6

  RAIN DELAY

  When the thunder woke him up, so loud his heart was hammering before his eyes were even open, it took Kyle a minute to remember where he was, why his muscles were groaning, why he was sleeping on his stomach. Then he took a deep breath and smelled Juno on the sheets bunched in his fist, felt the warm, solid bulk of his body beside him in bed, and the night fell back into his head, a heavy chunk of memory he wanted to seal up and keep in mint condition like a rookie card.

  When he stretched, the pain spread everywhere, as much a part of him as his own heartbeat. But, it was a dull, soft heat that melted slowly through his whole body. Not the screaming, tearing, aching mess it should have been. Had been yesterday. He wasn’t tense, wasn’t tight, just felt worked the fuck out. He didn’t mind that.

  He shrugged his shoulders to check for the knot in his back. Gone. He spun his ankles in circles the way he always did when he woke up, some habit he’d held onto since grade school when he used to have nightmares about injuries that wrecked his future. Good. Loose. Perfect.

  After a second’s hesitation, he reached a tired arm behind him and slipped his hand down the back of his shorts, heat curling in his chest and around his ears as he cupped one cheek in his palm and exhaled heavily. Yeah. That was perfect too. Warm. Sore. Spanked. God, seriously fucking spanked, a sting he still felt all the way down his thighs. A completely different kind of ache, his skin pulled tight, the burn pulsing through him with every move he made.

  His face was tight too, his eyes dry and gritty. Too much crying, way too much, but fuck, he couldn’t help himself, didn’t even really want to. As embarrassing as it was to admit, even just to himself, he liked the crying. Liked the thickness in his throat and hitch in his chest, and the burn behind his eyes, all tiny betrayals of what he was supposed to be.

  He’d learned a long time ago to man up, that crying didn’t fix anything. Except, that wasn’t true. Might not do anything for you when you missed the playoffs by one game, or broke your arm, or really wanted your parents to stop fighting, but when he was bent over Juno’s knee, broken and blushing and sobbing, it fixed everything. Slowed his thinking to a crawl, and reduced him to the shortest, simplest list of thoughts his brain could manage. Please stop. Never stop. I promise I’ll be good.

  He loved diving onto his belly during a game, grabbing the bag and a face full of dust. Loved the way his hands vibrated when he connected with the fat part of the bat. Really loved pulling a crowd up onto their feet and being able to pick his own name out of the noise. But, last night had been the closest he’d ever felt to exactly right. Like he’d been wearing the wrong skin all his life, and suddenly, he could breathe.

  Thunder cracked again, low, and then loud, and Juno shifted beside him. Kyle pushed up onto his elbows and turned to look at him, surprised to see him still sleeping hard, one arm bent under his head like a pillow. It was kind of a rare thing to see Juno sleeping. He was always up before him and still awake after him, and if he woke up in the middle of the night, Juno was usually on the couch watching game footage with the sound turned down, or doing pull-ups on the bar in back room where he kept all his weights. And here he was sleeping through a storm that threatened to bring the house down.

  The first night he’d slept over, he’d been so nervous about sharing a bed that his feet kept inching toward the edge of the mattress, like they were ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Sharing wasn’t something he was so great at to begin with, but sharing space and blankets and breathing room with someone who made him feel so many things he’d never felt before, never even thought before, had been terrifying. That seemed like so long ago now that he could barely remember what it had been like.

  It was scary as fuck how fast he’d gotten to this place. Where he couldn’t imagine a life without Juno as a permanent fixture. Couldn’t imagine not waking up next to him, going to sleep beside him, feeling his arms around him everywhere he went, supporting him even when he wasn’t there.

  He raised his hand to draw a line down Juno’s stomach with his fingers, letting it hover in the air before he pulled back. Instead, he watched his broad chest rise and fall, his breathing slow and strong and steady, just like the rest of him.

  Sometimes, he got so stuck in his own head, so excited and impatient, and ten steps ahead of everything, that he forgot to just look. At the rock hard jaw that belonged on some action figure, and the rough stubble that grew fierce across Juno’s face like it had no idea it was blond and was never going to look like five o’clock shadow. At the short hair that shot off in every direction at night, but took two seconds to put right in the morning. At the full lips that looked ever fuller when he slept. That elevated him from All American Ballplayer Good Looking to Jesus Fucking Christ Hot. He felt his gut grow hollow with want and need, aching with the overwhelming satisfaction that Juno was his.

  He hadn’t thought about that kind of stuff much growing up. Thinking about it had felt too much like saying it out loud, and the truth was, he didn’t know what would happen if he did that. He did know it wasn’t worth the effort to try to get his mom’s attention, or worth the trouble to do anything that might potentially piss off his dad, so it was better all around if he didn’t ever bother saying anything that felt important. But sometimes, he’d try to imagine, quickly and quietly, what being in love was supposed to feel like. What kind of magic happened when you chose and got chosen by the same person.

  No matter how far his imagination had stretched, it had never brushed up against anything like what he’d found here with Juno.

  In some ways, the best ways, it just felt like being friends. With a super hot jock who never got tired of talking baseball or watching Die Hard. Except, the friendship part came with all kinds of bonus stuff. Whispering and kissing and undressing. Groping and fucking and Jesus, a whole lot of kinky shit.

  And so much else.

  He rolled over and smiled as he reached for the water on the nightstand. The water that was always there, had always been there, since the first night he’d stayed over, so he didn’t have to stumble to the kitchen in the dark. Even though the kitchen wasn’t very far away. Even though there were nightlights in every room that made stumbling in the dark nearly impossible. There was so much else like that, that made him believe Juno actually liked taking care of things that way. Taking care of him.

  * * *

  In the bathroom, which he’d made his way to plenty easily, thanks to all the nightlights, he flipped on the overhead and he peeled down the back of his shorts, inspecting the pink flush across his cheeks in the full-length mirror he loved so much. No marks, just a little color, like he was blushing. Which he was. Pink across his shoulders and up his neck, over his chest and curving up the sides of his face. So, this was what it felt like to get exactly what he wanted. Act like a fuck up and actually get in trouble for it, over the knee, and lectured, and everything.

  He turned on the faucet, staring at his reflection for a bit before rubbing water on his face and across the back of his neck. He looked like someone else. Someone he didn’t know. Someone who had so much more inside him than he’d ever known was in there, like he had a ton of extra parts rattling around, and was just starting to figure out where they went. And shit, that was kind of scary.

  For as far back as he could remember, all his thoughts had really seemed like one thought, all tied together and heading to the center of everything. Baseball. Other things tried to creep in once in a while— mostly What would it be like to be with a guy? and How do I tell my parents?— but when those thoughts snuck in, he just yanked them like weeds and locked them in a box marked later.

  He was pretty sure later was here.

  And that box full of stuff that he’d never made time or space to think abou
t had exploded like one of those joke cans of peanuts with snakes inside, leaving his brain all messy and weird. With needs he didn’t understand. Wants he wasn’t sure he wanted. And, baseball…

  He picked up his toothbrush, which he guessed he’d officially unpacked. Stuck his tongue out at himself and started brushing. Now baseball was locked up in the box marked later. Whenever Mackey decided that was.

  He couldn’t even imagine what his dad would do if he fucked this up. The only thing worse than the constant nagging, and the ten phone calls a day, and the dumb jokes about getting laid was the silence. He could skip all the practice he wanted, be a loudmouth dick to everyone on the team, buy his term papers online, just as long as he did his job. Made sure his stats were up at the end of the day instead of down. Then he was a hero.

  But, when he didn’t, if he had an off day, couldn’t connect, couldn’t get on base… he might as well be invisible. On off days, his dad just straight up couldn’t stand to be around him, would make up reasons to leave when they got home, and he’d end up spending another night ordering pizza by himself. If he knew he was actually sitting because he was a fuck up, instead of just not getting to play every day… He spit into the sink and turned the faucet off.

  Looked like he had a new thing to start stuffing in a box for later.

  * * *

  He’d never spent much time in his own kitchen growing up. His dad didn’t cook, and his mom was never home, and when he zapped frozen dinners, he didn’t even bother to turn the light on to use the microwave. Hell, caterers probably spent more time in there than anyone who actually lived there. The only time anyone ever ate at the table was when they had booster meetings and his dad ordered all the huge trays of food from Ariselli’s. Fuck, he’d eaten a lot of leftover meatballs in high school.

  But, Juno cooked actual food. And had all the tools for it. Pans and knives and cutting boards, and vases filled with scoops and spoons, and some thing called a rice cooker that he hadn’t even know was a thing. There was just stuff everywhere, like he’d lived there for a hundred years, and it was so, so different from his house, where nothing ever stayed out on counters or tabletops, and there definitely wasn’t anything like chickens that held matchbooks or frogs that held sponges, or dish towels with days of the week on them, that he really did change out every day of the week. That stuff was just strange, even for Juno, who didn’t act or think like anyone he’d ever known.