Page 18 of Sour Candy (Sour Candy #1)

“I wouldn’t leave you lying on my desk when I was gone,” Noah panted.

“I’d give you the couch. Feed you, make you drink water.

Tuck you in before I leave. I’d set you up with a timer.

When it rings, you’d know to go back to the table.

Spread your legs, come still dripping out of you. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” Benji hissed, hand blurring over his cock. “Yeah, Noah, fuck me.”

“I’d come in,” Noah continued. “Buttons done up. Hair slicked back. CFO has to be presentable, you know. I’d come up behind you, kiss your forehead. Tell you what a good boy you were. Then I’d take out my cock?—”

Benji came with a shout. He was dimly aware of Noah swearing, and for a second, he could imagine he was actually there, pressing him into his shitty single bed. Then he opened his eyes, and he was staring up at his peeling wallpaper.

Noah was still panting. Benji’s job wasn’t done.

He took the phone with shaky fingers, careful not to touch it with his spit-slick mouth.

Trying to remember the articles he’d read on what he was supposed to say.

It had felt so natural when Noah was talking to him, but now he felt clumsy and awkward.

“That felt so good,” he said, tongue thick. “I want it so bad, Noah.”

It should’ve sounded corny. And it did a little bit, his cheeks flushing from embarrassment as he came down from his post-orgasm high. But then Noah groaned, and the shame was washed away with excitement. He was doing a good job. Making Noah come, just like he was supposed to.

“I want it,” Benji repeated, renewed heat curling in his gut.

He did want it, but it was also strangely hot to feel like he was mainly doing this for Noah.

Just a voice to get him off. Like when he’d lain there with his head dangling off the bed and let him use his throat. Just a thing to make Noah come.

“Fuck,” Noah said. “I’m close.”

Benji wanted to hear him come so badly that it burned. He dug his nails into his thigh, pretending it was Noah, trying to come up with something he’d want to hear.

“I’d let you do anything you want,” he said, far too honest. “You make it so good, Noah. I can’t believe how good it is, you’re fucking ruining me, I’m so pissed off about it.”

Noah choked on a laugh. Then he came, the long, drawn-out groan unmistakable. Benji pressed the phone closer, not caring when his lower lip smeared spit on the screen.

“Fuck,” Noah whispered. “ Fuck . Benjamin.”

“Yes,” Benji said nonsensically.

For a minute, neither of them said anything.

Benji lay there, listening to Noah breathe and trying not to feel too self-conscious about how shaky his voice had gotten at the end there.

In his defense, Noah was ruining him, and he was pissed about it.

He had no idea what he was going to do after Noah ended their arrangement.

Fuck himself with his dildo and pretend it was Noah while crying into his pillow on the rare occasions when he had time in between class and a shitty customer service job, probably.

Noah’s voice pulled him out of his thought spiral.

“I want to take you out for breakfast,” Noah said. “Could you do tomorrow? Eight?”

“Ugh.” Benji flopped back against the bed, tucking himself into his jeans one-handed. “I can swing 8 a.m. For you .”

Noah chuckled. He’d been laughing more this week. Benji got a proud glow every time he coaxed it out of him.

“I’ll pick you up,” Noah told him. “Be ready.”

“You got it,” Benji said, eyeing his wet shirt with distaste. “Hey, the elevator finally got repaired. Sucks that didn’t happen last week, huh? Could’ve saved you all those stairs.”

“But then you wouldn’t have gotten to watch my arms flex as I carried it.” Noah’s voice was warm, filling Benji with absurd fondness. “See you at eight, Benjamin.”

Benji hung up. He was about to get up and change his shirt when his phone buzzed with a message from Daphne.

It was a photo of her apartment, the place decked out with waxy paper, paints, charcoal, and, for some reason, crayons.

The photo was captioned: have fun on ur date!

if it gets canceled again ur always welcome at my art partyyyy 3

Benji considered it. He was going to go to that before Noah scheduled a date. And Daphne did want him to socialize more with their classmates. Besides, Max was at a friend’s place tonight, so if he stayed in, he was just going to get wine drunk and guiltily scroll lingerie sites again.

He sighed. Then he got up to change his come-stained shirt.

Daphne lived a ten-minute bus ride away.

Her place was a little nicer. She didn’t get roaches, and the elevator usually worked.

No water stains in the bathroom. But most of the niceness was because Daphne covered her walls with art and plants that were a bitch on moving day.

She placed little desks around each room with twisted vases full of bright flowers.

She made it look nice, which was what Benji was saying.

She didn’t just shove all her shit in and call it a day.

She squealed when she saw Benji at the door, her hair in ponytails and a heart drawn on her cheek with lipstick, her eyelids wet with blue eyeshadow. She jumped over sheets of paper and two classmates to grab him in a hug.

“You made it,” she cried. Then she pulled back, her face falling. “Oh no, he canceled again?”

Benji motioned for her to be quieter. There were a lot of people here. She had invited everyone from most of her classes, and because it was Daphne, they’d all shown up.

She grabbed his hand and led him through the living room, stepping around people drawing on the paper Daphne had put out, books stuffed underneath to give them a base.

“He canceled,” Benji said when they reached the empty hallway that led to her bedroom. “But he’s picking me up for breakfast tomorrow. And we had phone sex, and he sent me two thousand dollars.”

He showed her his phone. She squealed again, hands over her mouth to muffle it. “Holy shit! Benji, that’s amazing! If you keep this up, you’re gonna be rich!”

“Yep,” Benji croaked.

Daphne’s smile dimmed again. “Wait, why is that bad?”

“It’s not! It’s great.” Benji tugged on his jacket. It was his old ratty one. He still felt weird wearing his new coat outside, especially since some of his classmates had started making noises about Benji bringing fancy new art supplies to class.

“It’s great,” Benji repeated darkly. “It’s— Daph, holy shit, it’s way too good. No one is this sweet. I’m going crazy waiting for the other shoe to drop. Does he have a wife locked in his attic? Does he have a vore kink? Is he going to ask me to eat his toenails?”

Daphne’s snub nose wrinkled. “Ew. Benji, he did say he wanted to spoil you. Like, he was pretty specific.”

Benji flung out his arms as wide as he could in this narrow hall.

“Yeah, I figured he’d buy me a meal, and I’d tolerate it in between shitty dick and pretending to be interested in golf!

He doesn’t even like golf! He explicitly told me he doesn’t like golf.

We’ve been texting all the time. What is WRONG with him? ”

“Maybe he likes you,” Daphne suggested, slow and obvious, the way you’d talk to a small child.

“Okay!” Benji yelled. “Weirdo!”

Daphne took him by his shoulders, staring up at him in all her five-foot-three glory.

“This is good ,” she told him. “Just go with it and let yourself be happy, you guys actually have a connection! It seems like you guys might have something here. Don’t run from it just because you’re freaked out that someone actually got past those prickly fences you put up.”

She poked him in the chest. Benji rubbed it, scowling. But something must’ve shown on his face, because her stern look faded into something soft and understanding.

“Good stuff can feel weird sometimes if we’re not used to it,” she said, frowning. Like she was trying to remember something someone told her a long time ago. “That doesn’t mean you stick to bad things just because they’re familiar.”

“What?” Benji shook his head, trying to get rid of the squirming panic that had risen in him after he got off the phone with Noah. “I’m just— It’s not— Jesus, Daph. I can’t go around with my heart on my sleeve, okay? Especially not with a guy who’s paying me for a good time.”

An arm slid around his shoulder, making Benji startle. He swung around, almost smacking Dillion Thomas in his smug face.

“Jeez,” Dillion said, ducking away with a snigger. “I was just saying hi, my guy! What’s with the attack?”

“Don’t sneak up behind me,” Benji barked.

Dillion held up his hands, which were stained with charcoal. His eyes were bright with booze, Daphne’s favorite mug hanging carelessly from his pinkie. He burped, grinning when they made twin faces of displeasure at him.

“Just wanted to grill you,” Dillion said in a stage whisper. “Everybody wants to know how you’re suddenly affording all those textbooks you swooore you couldn’t afford last semester. And the new everything . Not even secondhand, that shit is new . All this from thrift shop boy?”

He plucked Benji’s jacket, pulling at a stray thread. “Come on. Let us in on the secret. You dealing drugs?”

“If I was, I wouldn’t sell shit to you,” Benji said icily.

Dillion clasped a hand over his chest like he’d been shot. He stunk of paint and vodka, as he often did during class.

“Not that,” Dillion said, stepping closer. “What, then? You a hooker?”

Benji glared. “For you? Not for a million dollars.”

Dillion laughed louder. He reached for him, trying to tug his jacket or touch his shoulder again, but Daphne was already pulling him away.

“Come on,” she said, shooting Dillion a dirty look over her shoulder. “Let’s get you a drink.”

Benji tucked the stray thread on his jacket back into place. He’d get a light beer, he decided as Daphne steered him through their classmates bent over the sea of paper. He had somewhere to be tomorrow morning.