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Randy was in kindergarten the first and last time he saw real snow. His mom was in her third trimester with Haley, and his grandfather’s health was declining, so they’d squirreled away enough money for her to take a week away from work so they could spend Christmas in central Ohio with her parents. Randy didn’t even own a winter coat, but his grandmother bought him one, along with a hat and scarf and gloves, all things that he’d go on to never use again once he was home. But it didn’t stop Randy from hoping for the day they’d be of use again, even after he’d long outgrown the coat and misplaced one of the gloves. As a curious child he’d gone to the library and learned that he’d be lucky to see half an inch of snow a year living in Louisiana, but it never stopped him from staring up at the sky throughout the winter months, praying on the more brisk, overcast days that the looming grayness of the sky would open up and dump a winter wonderland’s worth of snow just in time for Christmas.
But with age came anxieties, new things to fret about that Randy had never even considered in childhood when he wasn’t responsible for the well-being of anyone, much less himself. And now that Randy was an adult with a shitty job and a shittier car, the weather outside was, in fact, frightful as he watched from the dining room window at work. There was already a fluffy layer of white covering his car across the street, and it didn’t appear to be slowing. According to the news, they were due for up to four inches of snow, and to an already underfunded, nowhere town in a notoriously winter-less southern state, it might as well had been a blizzard for the infrastructure -or lack thereof- that was readily available for tackling the unusual nature of it.
Randy and Benson were the only ones left at the restaurant. Between the weather and it being eight in the evening on a Tuesday, the dining room felt like a tomb, silent and cold and bare. Even the roads were abandoned, the thin blanket of snow on the asphalt untouched by tires for at least a half an hour. And while Benson busied himself flipping half of the chairs up onto the tables and mopping, effectively closing off half of the dining room for the evening, Randy worried, occupying himself cleaning the grill that he’d already wiped down twice since it was last used and rewriting the inventory list he’d completed an hour prior but in alphabetical order. The volume on the radio was low, which only seemed to amplify the sound of the pencil scratching the paper and the occasional squeak of Benson’s sneakers on the floor, so when the phone rang, Randy nearly jumped out of his skin, pencil flying from his hand and clattering to the floor as he cursed and scrambled for the receiver. “Burgers Burgers Burgers, Randy speaking.”
“Bradley, you care to tell me how the hell your mother got my phone number?”
“Hardy?” Randy looked up at the sound of footsteps as Benson approached. Anything was more interesting than nothing, he supposed, so it made sense that some change in the atmosphere would be enough to pull even Benson from the repetitive busy work they were left with. “I, um… I really don’t know. I-I’m sorry, though, I don’t know why she wouldn’t have- Is she okay? What did she-”
“She told me to close the restaurant early so you can get home safe.”
The chill in the air seemed to fizzle as his skin lit up, red and burning in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Hardy. I swear I didn’t say anything to her. I-I don’t want to leave, I never would’ve… I need the money, and I wouldn’t leave Benson by himself or-”
“How busy has it been?”
Randy had emptied the receipt spike after the lunch rush, bundling the papers in a small envelope and dropping it into the safe at just after two o’clock. He checked the timestamp on the topmost one of the half a dozen receipts since then. “Last order was at 5:12.”
Hardy sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “Stick a note on the door saying we’re closing early and call it at nine. And tell your mom to lose my fucking number.”
“Yes sir. I’m sorry again, I swear it won’t-” The click on the other end of the line stopped him short, and Randy replaced the phone in the cradle with a heavy sigh. He took a moment, choking back frustrated tears, and looked up at Benson. “Hardy says to close at nine.” He waited a beat, allowing Benson a moment to nod and grunt in response, before walking out from behind the counter and toward where his jacket hung in the supply room. “I have to make a phone call.”
Unbeknownst to Randy, Benson followed him, standing just around the corner as Randy pulled his phone from his coat pocket and dialed with shaky fingers. After one ring his mother answered, and Benson leaned toward the doorway, keeping himself out of Randy’s line of sight and listening as the younger man spoke while training his ears in on the tinny voice of his mother’s, bursting through the phone as Randy held it back from his ear to make the volume more tolerable for himself and, unknowingly, more audible to Benson. “Randy, I talked to your boss and-”
“Yeah, I know, what the hell, Mom? How did you even get his number?”
“Language! And I got it from your phone. I wanted to make sure I had it in case-”
“What do you mean my phone?! Mom, everything about this is crazy, do you not see that? That’s an invasion of my privacy and- and do you realize how that makes me look? You calling him? He was pissed. You could’ve gotten me fired!”
“Oh come on, Randy, you’re overreacting. I just wanted to-”
“No, Mom, this is not okay. Alright? We’ll talk about this when I get home but-”
“When will you be home?”
“I’ll get there when I get there. I’m at work, I have to go.” With that he hung up, clicking the phone shut loudly before shoving it in his pocket and letting out a frustrated noise before taking a deep breath and stepping out of the room, only to startle and jump slightly at the sight of Benson leaned against the wall just past the doorframe, arms folded over his chest.
“I’ll drive you home, Ran.”
“W-what?”
“If your mom is that worried, I’ll drive you home. I’ve driven in this shit before. Worse than this shit.”
The embarrassment he felt over his mother’s actions now compounded with that of having been overheard by Benson made Randy want to curl in on himself, to shrivel up and wash himself down the floor drain and never be seen again, but the look on Benson’s face -sincereity, pride, and a glimmer of something else he couldn’t quite place- seemed to placate his racing thoughts. He nodded shallowly and forced a smile that quickly turned genuine when Benson returned it with a playful nudge of their shoulders. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. You did me a solid staying when this shit started coming down. Least I could do.”
“I, um… Yeah. Okay. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
The next hour was spent slowly finishing up the closing to-do list. Randy had taped a sign to the inside of the door, Closing at 9 due to weather. Sorry for the inconvenience -mgmt, but no one ever showed up to read it as he and Benson finished breaking down fryers and wiping down tables, and by nine, they were pulling on their coats and locking the doors before slowly trudging to Benson’s car. The air inside of it was almost as cold as that outside, and Randy’s teeth chattered as he pulled his seatbelt across himself, latching the frigid metal pieces together and watching the hazy roll of his own breath as it spilt from his lips while giving Benson directions to his house.
He didn’t live far, only about a five minute drive under normal circumstances. But it was ten minutes later when Benson turned onto Randy’s street, and they were quickly met with the red and blue flashing of police lights. Benson let out a groan and rolled his window down as one of the officers approached the vehicle. “Evening, fellas. Where we headed?”
“Just down the road here. Driving a friend home from work.” Benson nodded toward the windshield, then tilted his head to the right, gesturing to Randy in the passenger’s seat, who, as if on cue, raised his hand in a nervous wave toward the cop.
“Well if he lives down here, it’s going to be a while. Pretty congested with slide-offs at the moment. We’ve got wreckers on the way. How far down you need to get?”
Benson turned to Randy then, eyes wide and waiting as he wordlessly prodded the younger man for an answer. “Um, couple miles down on the right.”
A quiet, hissing whistle rushed through the cop’s teeth as he shook his head. “Yeah, sorry, son, you’re not getting there any time soon.”
“I, um… Okay, that’s-”
“Thank you, officer.” Benson’s voice was the same clipped, mildly irritated one Randy recognized from work, the one he saved for customers toward the end of the night when his patience was at its thinnest. “And I can just back out of here then?”
“Yes sir. Again, give us a couple hours and we’ll be out of your hair.”
They were quiet until they were back on the road, the car finally warm enough that Randy could again feel the tip of his nose as they slowly lumbered back in the direction they’d come from. “I… I’ll call my mom. If you just want to take me back to- I mean, I’m assuming that’s what-”
“I’m not driving all the way back to work. My place is closer. You opening tomorrow?”
Randy’s head tilted to the side, curious, watching the careful intensity in Benson’s face, the grip of his hands on the steering wheel. “Yeah. But you close, right?”
Benson nodded in acknowledgement of Randy’s words while continuing to speak sparingly and slowly taking a right turn onto a road Randy had never been down before, leading to a neighborhood his mother had always told him to avoid. The wrong side of the tracks, she’d warned, but other than the weather, nothing looked wrong or even different about it at all. “Stay at my place. I’ll take you to work in the morning. By the time your shift’s done, shit should be under control enough for you to make it home. If not I’ll run you home and Hardy can deal with me being a little late.”
“Benson, I… That’s really nice of you, but-”
“Call your mom. This’ll be good practice.”
“Practice?” They rolled to a stop, parking across the street from what Randy only assumed to be Benson’s house.
“Put your fuckin’ foot down with her, man. You call and you tell her that you’re not going to make it home.” The car was still running, pumping whatever heat it could muster through the old, rattling vents. “I heard you earlier, you’ve got it in you. Make me proud, Randy.”
“I…” Whatever Randy was thinking he couldn’t seem to verbalize, his mouth open, like a fish desperately thrashing on dry land. But the desire to make Benson, to make anyone, proud was there. Randy just wasn’t sure he’d known it was until that moment.
“I mean you can stay with me or you can stay at the fuckin’ restaurant I guess, but I cannot physically drive to your house, and there’s no way you’re walking two fuckin’ miles in this shit.”
“Right. Yeah, thank you, I’ll just…” His hands fumbled in his pocket, rocked from his vocal stasis as he clumsily opened his phone with nervous fingers and dialed his mother’s number. He watched Benson -watched Benson watch him, really- as the phone rang, watched the subtle smirk quirk up one side of his mustache when halfway through the first trilling his mother picked up and anxiously barked out his name. “Hey Mom. So, um, the road-”
“I know, it’s completely blocked. Are you okay?! Oh, Randy, honey, tell me you’re-”
“I’m fine, Mom. I’m…” Randy’s eyes had yet to leave Benson’s, and he watched as the older man nodded, eyes flicking only briefly to the phone before boring back into Randy’s. “I’m just going to stay with a friend tonight. A-a coworker. He was actually about to drive me home, but then the cops stopped us and-”
“What friend? Have I met him?”
“No. His name is Benson. He’s nice.” At that, Benson cracked a fuller smile, shaking his head and rolling his eyes slightly before nudging Randy’s knee with his own, encouraging him. “He’s going to drive me back to work in the morning, and by the end of my shift I should be able to drive home okay.”
“I just don’t know about this, Randy…”
“Would you rather I walk home?” Again, Benson’s face lit up with pride, and he nodded again, mouthing words of encouragement. Good job. Keep it up.
“Don’t get snippy with me.”
“I’m serious, Mom. It’s either I sleep at Benson’s or I sleep at work.”
There was silence then, long enough that Randy pulled the phone from his ear to make sure the call hadn’t dropped and, once confirming it hadn’t, brought it back to his face just in time to hear his mother speak again, more softly. “You call me when you get to his house, okay? And give me his address and phone number so-”
“Absolutely not. We’re already here, so I’m not far. But I’m going inside and going to bed. There’s no reason for you to have his address or phone number.”
She sighed again, and her resignation seemed to invigorate Randy, encouraging a sense of independence he didn’t know possible, immediately followed by the realization that this was simply what adulthood was meant to feel like. That coming and going as he pleased at 21 was more normal than asking permission or giving itineraries of his plans to his mother before so much as going to an amusement park for the day with friends. “I’m just looking out for you, sweetie.”
Randy made sure to think his words through, to set his throat just right so that his tone would come off more firm than indignant. “Look out for me by giving me some space and some trust. It’s not a blizzard, it’s just a couple inches. I’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
It happened then. There was a slackening of the tether that Randy had never felt before. Adulthood, as it turned out, was never meant to be a game of tug of war, but now that he’d finally put up some resistance, he not only saw the flag that had been dangling between them the whole time, but he watched as it barreled toward himself and the rope hit the ground. He’d won. “Okay. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.” He folded the phone shut and tucked it back in his pocket, and the two of them remained silent for a moment. Finally Benson pulled the keys from the ignition and clapped Randy on the shoulder, squeezing his loosening muscle and jostling him before climbing out of the car.
The inside of the house was dark and quiet but, mercifully, not terribly frigid despite the drafty-looking windows and rumbling baseboard heaters, spewing out warmth that smelled like years of settled dust finally being singed and blown away. They walked quietly past the sleeping form of a woman, Benson’s own mother, Randy presumed, and down a long hallway, its wood-panneled walls glowing in the light of a couple of meager nightlights, one at each end of it.
Benson’s room was at the very end and the larger of the two bedrooms. He went in ahead of Randy, turning on the bedside light before rifling through a dark brown dresser nestled in the corner and producing a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. “Get changed. I’m going to go grab some extra blankets.” The clothes were dropped into Randy’s hands as Benson moved back the way they came, quietly shutting the door behind himself as he disappeared back down the hall. By the time he returned, Randy had changed clothes, his own folded up neatly and placed on top of the dresser and his sneakers side by side against the wall. He took a moment to look around while Benson began throwing blankets and pillows onto the floor, creating something of a nest as Randy’s eyes scanned the room. It was tidier than the front room by a far, even smelling fresher, like clean laundry and some sort of earthiness, floral and spicy, like the long, fragrant sticks of incense on display at the gas station down the road from his house. The silence was comfortable and warm, and once broken, it was by Benson, his voice a quieter, almost smoother version of itself than Randy was used to hearing, and he supposed it had to do with being surrounded by the comforts of home. “You take the bed.”
Until then, Randy hadn’t looked back to Benson, but the sound of his voice drew his eyes away from where they examined the space, studying the various posters and photos hanging up and smiling at the complimentary shades of green that differed from wall to wall. There was personality and humanity that Randy realized he never got to see from Benson until he was here, in the most personal of spaces another person could share with someone, and Randy’s gratitude was suddenly boiling over. Once his vision settled, however, Randy’s eyes grew wide. Benson was no longer fussing with the blankets on the floor, but instead was pulling off his work shirt. He’d already changed into a pair of sweatpants, and Randy was looking before he could stop himself, eyes tracing the length of Benson’s torso. His collarbones were prominent and dusted with dark hair, and a scar ran down his chest between firm pectorals and pierced nipples, past an indecipherable, small tattoo on his left-side ribs. His stomach was flat and toned, not overly muscular, fit but soft looking, and a line of dark hair darted down from his navel to the low-slung waistband of his sweats, hanging below the very top of a courser, darker patch of hair that caused a lump to form in Randy’s throat. His eyes shot back up as white fabric fell into place when Benson pulled an old t-shirt on, and Randy’s face burned red when their eyes met. There was a look on Benson’s face, a knowingness, that sent electricity from Randy’s brain down through every nerve and vessel of his body and causing him to shake under the heat of it, his own body throwing off warmth and dust not unlike the stagnant heaters finally getting a chance to stretch and indulge in their purpose. “No, I- Please, it’s your bed. I’ll take the floor. You didn’t have to let me stay at all, I don’t want to kick you out of your own bed.”
“Randy-”
“I’m serious. Please, I insist.”
Benson’s eyes looked over Randy again before crossing the room and sitting down on the mattress. He pulled open the drawer to the nightstand, fiddling around until finding what he was looking for, and used his other hand to tug Randy down by the elbow, pulling him into a sitting position next to himself. They were quiet until Randy heard the flick of a lighter, and finally Benson turned toward him, dropping the lighter back onto the nightstand and pulling a joint from between his lips. “You ever smoke weed, Randy?”
“W-what?”
Benson chuckled. “Have you ever smoked marijuana?” A tiny flame danced at the end of the joint, and Benson blew it out, watching the smoke swirl from the remaining tiny, glowing ember at the tip of it. “Randy?” He took a long draw off of it and hummed softly before blowing the smoke out and away from the younger man. They looked at one another again, and Benson held it out, offering it to Randy. “It’ll calm you down. Help you sleep.”
“Benson, I…”
“What? You on probation or something?” Randy’s brow furrowed as he tried to speak, and his mouth noiselessly stuttered over his words until Benson laughed. “I’m fucking with you. Just wanted to be a good host and offer.” Just as he began to pull his hand back, Randy reached out for it, and he gently plucked the joint from between his fingers.
“So how do I…?”
Benson’s smile alone made Randy’s stomach flip. Not that he’d never seen the man smile before, but something about this one, in this moment, felt more natural and loose, like there wasn’t time for him to tweak it and give it a veneer of self-preservation. Or maybe he didn’t want to. The thought of that made Randy wonder if he even needed the weed, the buzzy, lightness floating his brain in his skull untethered in the warmth of Benson’s sudden, unexpected sincerity. “Inhale. Like, really inhale. When I first started I’d do it in two breaths: One to get the smoke in your mouth, then another to get it in your lungs. Then just breathe out. Lather, rinse, repeat.”
Randy nodded, a smile of his own crossing his lips as he raised the joint up to his face and whispered to himself. “Mouth, then lungs.” He brought the joint to his mouth, barely taking it between his lips, and pulled in a deep breath. The smoke felt light and fuzzy rolling over his tongue, and the taste and smell seemed to only amplify one another. He’d been around cigarette smoke plenty, albeit never smoked himself, but this was different. Warmer, smoother, earthier. Finally he opened his throat and sucked it back into his lungs, and his eyes widened at the tight burning in his chest. It was heat and pressure, his chest somehow expanding and collapsing on itself at the same time. It was familiar, in some odd way, but he couldn’t put his finger on it until the smoke burst back out, violently erupting from his throat like magma and spilling out between himself and Benson. His face burned, the fire spreading from his chest to his cheeks as he coughed and sputtered and felt both immense relief and an urgency to do it again, and the only word -the only comparison even within the ballpark- his brain could supply for the rush of it was orgasmic. “Holy shit…”
Benson took back the joint with one hand and rested his other on Randy’s knee. “Good job. You did real good, Randy.” Randy’s breathing steadied, even as tears continued streaming down his cheeks, and he heard the sizzle of the joint as Benson took another long drag, felt the older man’s hand gently squeeze his knee in time with his own breath and release as Benson exhaled, the smoke billowing between them and the haziness of it catching the light and dispersing it in a warm, orange glow around Benson’s silhouette. “Another?” They continued passing it back and forth, until Randy had taken another three or four hits and was no longer doubling over with every one. “Alright, you’re cut off.” Benson’s voice was soft as he took the joint back and pressed it lightly to his tongue to extinguish it. He sat it down on the nightstand and passed a half-empty bottle of water to Randy. “Get you a drink and hold on. You’re about to be higher than eagle tits.”
The water was room temperature, but the slight chill of the room, its walls battered by the snow and unusually frigid temperatures, made it soothing and crisp as Randy swallowed, easing his dry, achy throat. His back hit the mattress before his brain had caught up with it, and his eyes fell closed as a warm, buzzy ease crashed over him and blanketed him in calm. Every bone and muscle seemed to melt and pool under his skin, and his shoulders untensed, his trapezius relaxing for perhaps the first time in his adult life. Normally nervous fingers moved slow and languid over his own torso, tracing the shape and curve of his ribs and muscles, the pads of his fingers mapping the worn screen print and cigarette burns in the t-shirt he wore, and he gasped softly as his own fingers slipped under the bottom hem of the shirt and came to rest on the warmth of his own stomach. “Thank you, Benson.”
“You’re welcome.” Benson stood slowly and took in the sight of Randy’s limp form draped over the bed, legs still hanging over the side of the mattress even as he lay flat on his back, chest rising and falling easily as his closed eyelids fluttered softly with long eyelashes catching the light and shimmering where they lay on slightly pinkened cheeks. He leaned over just enough to scoop Randy’s feet up and swung them up on the bed, allowing Randy to be fully on the mattress, and pulled a blanket up over his form. “You doin’ alright?” Benson’s legs folded under himself, and he sat on the floor cross-legged next to the bed. “Need anything? Water, snack…?”
Randy sighed and smiled and lazily rolled himself onto his side until he was facing Benson, putting them eye to bloodshot eye with one another. “No, I’m fine. I’m great.”
“Yeah?” Randy nodded back at him, and Benson tried to smile at him only to realize he already was, though for how long he had been he wasn’t sure. “Alright. Okay. Good. Comfortable?”
Randy swallowed hard and stayed silent just a little too long. “Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
Despite the finality of his words, Randy’s tone gave him away, and after giving him a beat to continue to no avail, Benson raised his eyebrows. “But?”
Suddenly Randy’s eyes were almost glowing, damp with the threat of tears that he blinked back quickly with a forced, nervous laugh and a quick shake of his head. “I’ll sleep on the floor. You shouldn’t have to.”
“I told you, Randy, I’m fine.”
A moment passed, and Randy began to shift his body. Not toward Benson, however, but away, toward the far wall at the edge of the bed. “There’s plenty of room.”
Benson’s head tilted slightly, curious, and he lifted one eyebrow. “For?”
“F-for both of us. In the bed. I mean, it’s kind of small, but it’s cold out. We might both sleep better.” He nervously patted the empty space next to him, all but batting his eyes at Benson with a cautious, subtle grin.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, Benson giving them space to be plucked away and revoked. When Randy didn’t speak, Benson took a deep breath and hoisted himself up from the floor, trying to ignore the sudden excitement on Randy’s face that mirrored that blooming in his own chest. He grabbed a couple of pillows and an extra blanket from the floor and tossed them onto the bare half of the mattress before crawling into the bed and tucking himself in, leaving whatever space he could between the two of them where they lay facing one another. “You change your mind, don’t hesitate to kick me out, alright?”
Randy only nodded, a seemingly permanent soft, almost dopey smile on his face, and rolled over to face away from Benson. He glanced back over his shoulder and met Benson’s eyes. “Thank you again.”
“Randy…”
“Yeah?”
It was quiet, save the wind rattling the window, and Randy shifted his weight again to roll onto his back. He couldn’t pull his eyes from Benson’s, and Benson seemed to be in the same position, gray meeting blue like storm clouds over crashing waves. The space between them was all but nonexistent, with Randy lying supine and lithe, and Benson was suddenly flustered, his nervous agitation not lost on Randy as he watched the older man prop his head up with one hand and awkwardly try to find a place for the other. Finally Benson cleared his throat as he rested his aimless, sweating palm on his own thigh. “I’m kind of a restless sleeper. I might be a frustrating bed partner. Do you want to take the outside at least?”
Never before had Randy seen Benson nervous, but there was no other way to describe the mannerisms he was seeing. The room wasn’t particularly well lit, but Randy still saw the glowing pinkness at the tips of Benson’s ears. He saw the quick rise and fall of his chest, the bob of his throat as he swallowed repeatedly and tried to dampen his clammy throat. It was charming, but even more than that, it made Randy excited, because in much the same way he’d never seen Benson nervous, he’d never shared such intimacy with him, and he suspected -maybe even hoped- that that was the reason. Benson’s fingers continued drumming on his leg, and Randy quickly flicked his eye to them before reaching out and stilling them under his own hand. Benson gasped softly at the touch, and Randy felt emboldened, so much so that he grasped Benson’s hand in his own and pulled it toward himself, rolling onto his side as he did to face him head on. Before he could speak, Randy pressed Benson’s palm to his hip and moved his own to the older man’s shoulder, gripping onto it and pulling them closer to one another, closing whatever little space between them remained. “I’m cold.”
“I, uh…” The words were breathed out, and the warm breeze of it passed over Randy’s lips nearly as soon as it left Benson’s. “I can get you another blanket.”
“No, I’m- This is good. I’m fine now. I’m…” Finally Randy tilted his head forward, pressing his forehead against the older man’s. He could hear the raggedness of Benson’s breath, could practically feel his pulse in the fingertips pressed into the skin of his hip. And he returned the same pressure, bunching the fabric of Benson’s t-shirt in his fingers, holding onto his shoulder tightly, and tentatively dragged the tip of his nose against the bristle of his mustache.
“Ran…”
“Oh God. Oh- Jesus, Benson, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was-” Suddenly the bed felt too small, and Randy desperately wanted to retreat into himself, and even tried, pulling his hand away and turning his back to Benson again. But the grip on his hip tightened, and suddenly he was pulled back in, chest pressed to Benson’s as the older man brought his own body closer to Randy’s. As best as Randy could tell, the room was silent, but the beating of his own heart in his ears was tympanic and echoing as he dragged his hand across Benson’s shoulders until letting it come to rest on the nape of his neck, and his voice was little more than a nervous crackle when he finally muddled up enough saliva on his tongue to speak. “When was the last time you kissed someone?”
Their noses met, Benson dragging the tip of his along Randy’s and breathing out a soft laugh. “Like, a real kiss?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“I, uh, I’m not sure. Couple years ago? Just a one night stand. Normally I don’t kiss hookups, but…”
Randy waited, but Benson never continued, letting the words hang in the air above them undisturbed until Randy nudged. “But?”
“But he was just too pretty to resist.”
Randy could feel his pulse in his throat, carotids pulsing as his blood sprinted through his veins, beating the walls of his arteries like it was trying to escape. But despite fight or flight wracking his body at a cellular level, Randy managed to take a shallow breath and whisper an uncharacteristically courageous response. “Prettier than me?”
Benson shook his head and pulled Randy closer, and his voice dropped to some sort of rumbling that seemed to beam straight past Randy’s ears and directly into his brain. “Never seen anyone prettier than you.”
Despite having had a girlfriend at one point in his life, Randy had never before known the taste of another person’s tongue. But now Benson’s was sweeping against his own, tracing his molars and shoving low, hungry groans down his throat that Randy eagerly returned, his own tongue pushing back as he whimpered out the closest sound he could manage to Benson’s name. The kiss both slowed and deepened, falling into something easy and needful as their hands pulled one another closer, grasping at muscle and skin and fabric, fighting against physics as they scrambled to pull one another impossibly close, until finally Randy broke his lips away with a gasp and threw his head back, offering his throat to Benson’s still-eager lips. “Benson…”
Words were lost to teeth on his throat and the rolling of hips, both of them grinding forward near simultaneously and causing Randy to shout. Despite layers of fabric, they were both undeniably hard, and the slow grind of their hips was overwhelming, intimate and eager in a way Randy had never felt before. “Fuck, Randy…” Benson fell to his back, and he pulled Randy along with him, dragging the younger man on top of himself in one quick movement and gripping onto his waist to guide his movements. “That’s it, nice and slow. You ever done anything like this?”
“No. Never.”
“You a virgin?”
“Yes.” Benson’s teeth sunk into Randy’s bottom lip at the same time his hands slid downward, cupping Randy’s ass and bucking up against him rougher, smiling against his lips as Randy whimpered out his name. “Want you so bad, Benson…”
“You’ve got me. M’all yours. All yours, Randy.”
“Benson?”
“Yeah, sweet thing?”
A low groan leapt up from Randy’s throat at the epithet, and he ground his pelvis down harder. “Want you on top.”
A split second later, Randy was on his back, legs hooked around Benson’s waist as the older man peeled off his t-shirt and tossed it aside. He leaned down, capturing Randy’s lips with his own again and planting his palms on the blonde’s shoulders as his hips resumed a steady, quick grind. He tugged Randy’s bottom lip between his teeth and smiled at the trembling, whining sound that came with it. “Like this?”
“Y-yeah. Yes. God, yes, just like that.” He whimpered again, throwing his head back as Benson’s hands slid upward along the length of his arms until their palms were pressed together and fingers interlocked against the mattress above Randy’s head. “So fucking good…”
“Yeah?” Benson slowed his pace, taking his time to drag them together harder, slower, feeling every inch of Randy’s cock against his own through their clothing, the fabric stretched nearly to its limit against the strain of their want. “I got you feeling good, beautiful?”
“Amazing…” Randy’s body moved in time with Benson’s, the increased pressure sending chills throughout his body, and his face suddenly burst into a bright flush as he chuckled nervously against the flurry of butterflies in his belly. “Fuck, Benson… I want…”
“Tell me.” Despite himself, Benson stopped his hips, leaving Randy bucking helplessly upward as he leaned down to drag his lips against the younger man’s. “Tell me what you want. Let me give you what you want.”
Randy whimpered again, pulling fruitlessly against the grip Benson had on his hands as his hips continued to push upward, chasing the delicious friction he’d already become starved for. “Wanna feel you against me.”
“I am against you.” In somehow both reassurance and teasing, Benson pressed forward again, slowly, dragging against Randy and feeling his own precum smearing between his cock and his sweats.
“Without clothes.”
“Fuck… Yeah, let’s- yeah. Alright.” They both scrambled as Randy dropped his legs and they peeled off the remainder of their clothing, a clumsy, careful dance punctuated with mumbled sorrys and shared giggles until they were positioned as they were before, but without interference. Both watched as Benson pressed his hips forward again, sliding them together, strings of precum sticking between flushed, ruddy tips, and Randy barked out a noise like nothing he’d ever made before, tears unexpectedly stinging the corners of his eyes at the wave of pleasure that shot through his gut at the feel of such new, intimate skin-on-skin contact. “Fuckin’ hung, aren’t you, pretty boy?”
“I, um, yeah. I guess.” It was almost difficult to look at them together, a flight too near the sun, as Randy found himself hurtling closer to his peak just at the sight. Benson was slightly shorter but thicker, prominent veins pulsing with each rough thrust forward and a dark, thick patch of hair at his base, already damp with sweat and precum, both his own and Randy’s. Randy’s cock, however, was much more like the rest of his body, long and fit with soft, dark blonde hair in modest patches, just enough to make him look both grown and well-kempt. It curved slightly upward, causing it to pour precum onto his stomach with every steady, rough grind of Benson’s against it.
Benson let out a long groan as he dragged his teeth gently along Randy’s skin, only stopping when he reached his chin and nipping at it playfully. “How about you let me suck it sometime? You ever had your cock sucked, Randy?”
“N-no. Never.” He tore his eyes away, knowing he was getting too close too quickly, and felt a tear finally escape and trickle down his cheek, the overwhelming pleasure unfamiliar and decadent. “Want it…”
“Want what? Keep using your words for me.” Benson’s teeth dragged lower still, sinking in just below Randy’s Adam’s apple and sucking gently before continuing in a whisper. “Gets me off.”
“Want you to suck my cock. W-want to cum in your mouth.”
“That’s right… And what about me?”
Randy’s legs tightened around Benson’s hips as he pulled himself upward, rutting desperately against him. “Wh-what? What do you mean ‘what about’-”
“You wanna cum in my mouth.” Benson’s own mouth moved to Randy’s ear, and he kissed his temple gently. “Where do you want me to cum?”
Stars and colors burst behind Randy’s eyes as he slammed them shut. It was too much, he was too close, and while he knew it couldn’t last forever, he craved just a little longer, and he let out a long, desperate cry as he fought back his inevitable release. “On me. Or -oh fuck, Benson- o-or inside me. Either. Both. Jesus, God, both.”
“Randy… baby…” Benson quickly but carefully pulled Randy’s legs away from himself as he sat upright and took himself in hand while hovering over Randy’s stomach, pulling quickly at his flushed cock. “Gonna cum…” His free hand splayed out on Randy’s stomach, dragging along the expanse of it, sliding up to his chest where his heart beat against his ribcage like a wild animal, dragging his thumb over a pert nipple, and finally sliding it back down to brace himself on Randy’s hip. “Gonna cum all over this beautiful body. Christ, you’re gorgeous, Randy. Look at you. Look at this- Oh fuck, fuck!” Electricity shot through Benson’s body, a lightening strike of unadulterated, aching want, and he forced his eyes to stay open as he came, spilling over Randy’s torso and streaking him from his navel to his chest in his release. No sooner did he catch his breath did he drop to his elbows, and Randy let out a shout as Benson was suddenly swallowing him down, leaking cockhead ramming the back of his throat as Benson groaned and bobbed his head. Randy couldn’t speak, only babble, desperate, unintelligible sounds of praise tumbling from his lips like speaking in tongues, and a moment later he came, sobbing Benson’s name as his hips stuttered.
Benson’s head lifted slowly, and he swiped his thumb over the corners of his mouth, cleaning up what he couldn’t swallow before kissing Randy softly on the thigh. “Benson… Can I taste you?”
Slowly, Benson shoved himself back up to his knees, and he swiped two fingers through the mess he’d made on Randy’s stomach, bringing the digits up to the younger man’s lips and pressing them into his waiting mouth. “Good?” Randy hummed against his fingers, sucking hungrily before dropping his head back to the mattress again. “How was that?”
Laughter wasn’t what Benson had expected, but he welcomed it anyway, a clear, bright, beautiful sound as Randy threw his arms around his shoulders and rolled them both over until they were once again facing one another and propped up on their sides. “It was perfect. You’re perfect.” Randy kissed him as he spoke, punctuating each word with a slightly more drawn out press of his lips, peppering kisses along Benson’s jawline. “You’re amazing. Sexy. Sweet.” He nuzzled his nose against the stubble of Benson’s cheek and breathed a contented sigh against his skin. “Can we keep doing this? I don’t think I can stand to see you at work if I’m not allowed to ever touch you again.”
“Was about to ask you the same thing.”
They stayed quiet for several moments, arms and hands slowly wrapping once again around one another as their breathing slowed to normal and listening as the winds began to die down on the other side of the window, the biting cold of a sudden winter already forgotten amongst blankets and body heat. “I, uh…” Randy let his lips press to Benson’s shoulder, and he sighed, smiling against flushed skin with a nervous chuckle. “This isn’t me trying to push anything, I just- I mean, it’s only fair that I tell you I’ve only ever had one relationship. And I don’t think I was very good at it.”
“That’s alright.” Benson took Randy’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, and he tilted his face upward, ghosting his lips over Randy’s briefly before pressing them together more committally. “That’s alright, baby. There’s no rush. We’ll figure it out together. I’ve been a lousy boyfriend the couple times I’ve done it, too.” He wrapped his arms more tightly around Randy and pulled the younger man in against his chest, tugging a blanket over the two of them and kissing his scalp. “Maybe I just need someone worth trying for.”
“Am I…?”
“More than worth it.”
Randy’s ear was pressed to Benson’s chest, and he could hear his heartbeat, a steady, solid drumming, soothing and intimate, and Randy’s own heart seemed to skip a bit at the sound of it, knowing he was the one to make it race. “You too.”
“Your mom’s gonna hate me.”
“My mom hates everyone.” They both broke into quiet laughter, and Randy tucked his away against Benson’s throat while speaking through gentle kisses. “I promise I won’t let her have your phone number.”
“Thank God.”
“Speaking of…” Randy begrudgingly sat up and leaned across Benson to the floor where his sweats had been discarded, rifling through the pockets until he found his phone. He opened it and typed out a quick text message before snapping it shut and dropping it on the nightstand, and finally collapsed against Benson’s chest again.
“What was that?”
“Just texted Hardy. Told him I’m calling off.” Their eyes met briefly, and Randy saw the question in Benson’s. “I wanna sleep in.”
Benson kissed the bridge of Randy’s nose softly. “Yeah? You that tired?”
“I’m gonna be.”
His phone made a noise, certainly a response from Hardy, and Benson quirked his eyebrow, nodding toward the nightstand. “You need to take that?”
Randy only shook his head before slipping back under the blanket, and then further down, disappearing underneath it as his lips dragged down Benson’s stomach. They could both use a good night’s sleep.