Page 36 of Too Many Beds
Alex notices the shift in Ben’s demeanor. “You okay?” he asks breathily, a hint of concern in his voice, eyes darting to the bedroom door and back.
“Yeah, I just … thought I heard something,” Ben replies, forcing a smile. He tries to shake it off, but the scratching grows louder, more insistent. The memories come flooding back: the late-night conversations, the laughter, the warmth of friendship mixed with something deeper. Luce, his tender monster, his childhood protector—how long has it been?
Before he can process his emotions, the scratching turns into a soft thump, and Ben’s heart races. Alex’s brow furrows as he shifts his attention to the source of the noise.
“Is your place haunted or something?” he jokes, but there’s a nervous edge to his laughter.
Ben chuckles awkwardly, but his mind is elsewhere. “Just my roommate,” he says, even though he knows the truth. The unbelievable, unbearable truth.
“You have a roommate?” Alex asks, shifting away from Ben. Ben doesn’t care; he barely even notices, his eyes fixed on the slowly turning doorknob. The door creaks open, a slice of light falls over the wooden floor, and then –
Luce’s face appears, his shimmering skin glistening in the low light, his large eyes wide with surprise. The sight of him sends a jolt through Ben, emotions swirling within him until he feels dizzy and light headed.
Luce is older now, taller, with a sharper face, but there is no denying that Ben is looking at the now grown-up face of a childhood friend he almost managed to convince himself was imaginary.
“Ben?” Luce’s voice is tentative, filled with a mixture of excitement and fear.
“Luce?” Ben gasps, standing up instinctively. The world outside fades away as he focuses on the figure before him. Memories rush back—playing hide and seek, whispering secrets, a bond that transcended the ordinary.
Alex’s mouth drops open in disbelief. “What the hell is going on?”
Ben swallows hard, caught between two worlds. “This is Luce. He’s—my roommate. I’m sorry, I don’t think now is a good time. Do you have money for a taxi? Can I call you an Uber?”
“An Uber? But—” Alex’s voice is laced with frustration, but Ben barely hears him. All he can focus on is Luce, who stands there, mostly hidden by the door, looking both ethereal and vulnerable.
“Is it really you?” Ben asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Luce nods, stepping forward hesitantly. “I came back to see you. I missed you, Ben.” His eyes dart over to Alex, darkening briefly. “I didn’t know you were busy.”
The darkness in Luce’s eyes strikes a chord deep within Ben. He feels an overwhelming rush of affection, memories flooding back of laughter and secret adventures. “I missed you too,” Ben replies, his heart swelling. Part of him feels guilty, and he resists the urge to step in front of Alex, as if that is enough to make the man disappear.
Alex, still processing, crosses his arms. “So, this is your roommate,” he says slowly. “This is weird, Ben. I wouldn’t have come home with you if I knew you had a boyfriend.”
“Luce isn’t my boyfriend,” Ben defends, turning to Alex. “He’s my friend. We were?—”
“Friends?” Luce interjects, a teasing lilt in his voice that makes Ben’s cheeks flush. It sounds like flirtation—it sounds like a challenge. It sounds like Ben is getting himself in trouble.
Ben glances between them, unsure how to explain the depth of his feelings for Luce. “We … we—it’s complicated.”
Alex watches Ben look at Luce, a mix of confusion and irritation playing across his features. “I think I should go,” he says, trying to regain some semblance of control in a situation spiraling out of his grasp.
“Wait,” Ben calls out. He isn’t being fair, but he doesn’t care. He can’t help himself. “I didn’t mean to dismiss you. It’s just … Luce?—”
“Yeah, I get it,” Alex mutters, backing away slightly. “But I don’t want to be a third wheel to some angsty dynamic. Good luck with … everything.”
“Alex, I’m sorry,” Ben insists, but he can see the tension in Alex’s posture. The chemistry they had felt moments ago has vanished, replaced by awkwardness.
“Bye Ben,” Alex says, turning to leave. “See you around, I guess.”
Ben feels a pang of regret as Alex exits the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. The air feels thick and heavy, and he turns back to Luce, who watches him with an unreadable expression.
“Sorry about that,” Ben says, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t expect you to show up like this.”
Luce shrugs, his eyes searching Ben’s face. “Clearly. I wanted to see you. It’s been a long time.”
“I know,” Ben replies, stepping closer. “I’ve thought about you so much. My therapist tried to tell me I imagined you, that you were a trauma response. I very nearly believed her.” He bites off the rest of his words, swallowing back a demand of where Luce went, of why he stayed away.
“Really? You thought about me?” Luce’s voice is hopeful, and Ben nods, the intensity of their connection igniting the air between them. Luce takes a deep breath, pushing the door of the bedroom open and stepping into the living room, so close that Ben aches to touch him. “I always felt safe with you. You were my best friend.”
Ben’s heart races. “You were mine too. I always felt like you understood me in a way no one else did.”
Luce’s gaze softens, and he moves even closer. “I never stopped thinking about you. I thought about what it would be like to come back, to see you again.”
“Me too,” Ben admits, feeling the gravity of the moment. “I just didn’t know if you would … if you could. Did I … do something wrong? To make you leave?”
Luce takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. “I can’t stay away anymore, Ben. I need you in my life.” He ignores Ben’s questions, but Ben doesn’t care. Luce’s presence and his words are as potent as amphetamines. Ben feels lightheaded from them.
Ben’s breath catches, and he feels a wave of emotion wash over him. “I need you too.” It's the easiest thing he’s ever admitted, and he can’t help himself: he reaches out and pulls Luce into his arms, tucking the smaller man against his bare chest.
They stand there for a moment, suspended in time, the world outside fading away. Luce’s hand reaches up, brushing against Ben’s cheek, and the touch sends shivers down Ben’s spine. Luce sighs, his breath hot against Ben’s skin. Luce slumps against him, giving up his weight with an ease that goes right to Ben’s head, sending blood rushing south.
“You’re not … angry with me?” Luce asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ben shakes his head, unable to speak, his heart pounding. He is, a little, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but the man in his arms, the race of his heart, the weight of this moment. Luce looks up at him, the size difference between them emphasized by their closeness.
Slowly, Ben leans down, alert for any hint of discomfort, any sign of retreat. It never comes. When their lips finally meet, it feels like igniting a cigarette with a blowtorch: breathtaking, terrifying and hot. Ben feels all the years of longing pour into that kiss, the warmth of Luce’s presence wrapping around him like a boa constrictor, lulling and deadly.
Luce pulls back slightly, his eyes searching Ben’s face. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t want me.”
“I have always,” Ben admits, feeling the burn of the words in his throat, “wanted you.” There’s a hint of his rage in his voice. But this isn’t the time for it. Not tonight, when everything is so raw.
Luce smiles, his eyes sparkling with joy. “Will you let me stay? I’ll leave, but only if you make me.”
Ben laughs, the sound bubbling up from deep within him. He wants to inform Luce that he cannot leave, that Ben won’t let him, that he would rather tie him to his bed, never permit him to leave his sight, but Luce isn’t human. The truth is, Ben can no more keep him against his will than he can a shadow.
“Stay.”
There is more he should ask, more he needs to know, so many questions that need answers, but Ben bites his tongue. It’s too much, too overwhelming, especially when Ben is exhausted and confused and still slightly drunk. If he asks, if he pushes, he’ll cry, or scream, or kiss Luce again, deeper and harder until he’s bending the smaller man over the arm of the couch—and none of those things will be particularly helpful.
“I’m tired,” Ben says, forcing himself to let go of Luce, to step back just enough to allow Luce to breathe. “Come to bed, we can talk in the morning.”
T hey don’t talk the next morning, or anytime over the next week. Ben knows he should push the issue, knows he needs answers before the anvil on his chest can fully lift. But Luce looks so fragile in the morning, his delicate fangs dimpling his bottom lip anxiously as he brews Ben’s coffee, dressed only in one of Ben’s larger t-shirts, which is stamped with the club logo.
He’s so desperate to please, so anxious, that Ben can’t bring himself to ask the questions that Luce would clearly rather avoid. So he takes his coffee with a smile even though it is already edging to afternoon, and he doesn’t ask before his shift starts at eight, and he doesn’t ask when he gets home around 4 a.m., holding his breath until he spots Luce curled up on the chair Ben keeps near the window, keeping watch over the city.
A week passes, then another. More than once, Luce deepens their kisses, his tricky fingers slipping their way under Ben’s waistband. Each time, Ben forces himself to step back, to gently refuse the timid advances of his monster.
He wants Luce like a drowning man wants air, but he has an unsettling certainty that Luce is only offering his body as a consolation prize, as a bribe to forget the last decade, to forget that Ben was ever abandoned.
And it is so, so tempting to take Luce up on his offer, to bury Ben’s doubts and misgivings in the back of his mind with each thrust of his hips, each drive into Luce’s flexible, willing body—but nothing has ever been transactional between them, and Ben refuses to allow sex to change that.
Luce isn’t like any one of the pretty men Ben has hooked up with, picked up at the club he works at, or found on dating sites. Ben wants more— needs more—from him than an evening of pleasure, and Ben will not treat him as such. Ben wants forever with Luce, ideally with them sharing the bed rather than Luce haunting the space beneath it, appearing every once in a while to break Ben’s heart before he vanishes again.
Luce makes no indication that he wants to leave, that he wants anything else but to be Ben’s , but it’s not real, it’s not stable and reliable and trustworthy until they talk, until Ben knows that Luce can stay and that Luce wants a physical relationship as more than a way to keep himself in Ben’s good graces. But Ben is terrified to push Luce, dreading the prospect of waking to cold sheets with no way to make contact, no way to follow should Luce leave him once again.
He can’t put it off forever, and on his night off, he can no longer avoid it.
Ben sits cross-legged on his bed, staring at the familiar shadows emanating from beneath it. The room is dimly lit, a warm glow from the bedside lamp casting soft light across the walls. It’s a quiet evening, and the world outside seems far away despite the predictable sounds of traffic, shouts, and clanging metal, barely muffled by the thin walls of his apartment. His heart races with anticipation and dread, feeling vaguely sick as he waits for Luce to emerge.
After a long moment, he hears the gentle rustling sound, like fabric brushing against wood. Suddenly, Luce appears, slipping out from beneath the bed, his shimmering skin glowing in the lamplight. His large, expressive eyes catch Ben’s gaze, and a smile spreads across Ben’s face despite the weight of the looming conversation.
“Hey,” Ben says, the words barely audible but filled with warmth and longing.
“Hey,” Luce replies, his voice soft yet carrying a weight that hints at the conversation they both know is coming. He settles gracefully beside Ben, their knees brushing against each other.
For a few moments, they sit in silence, letting the tension of the past ten years hang in the air. Ben takes a deep breath, knowing they have to talk about what happened, about why Luce left.
“I missed you for ten years,” Ben finally says, breaking the silence. “You didn’t say goodbye.”
“I missed you too,” Luce replies, his gaze dropping to the floor. “More than I can say.” He doesn’t answer Ben’s unasked question, merely wiggling closer to Ben’s body. Ben should insist on distance, should keep a professional amount of space between them, but he can already taste the hint of brimstone on the back of his tongue, and he has never been strong enough to push Luce away.
Ben watches him closely, the emptiness in Luce’s eyes striking him, even when his gaze is directed at the carpet. “You left without a word. I thought … I thought something happened to you. I called for you for months; I waited for even longer. I’ve been angry at you. I’ve been heartbroken. I was so sure that you died that I grieved for years. I need to know why you left me, Luce. I deserve that much, at least.” He can’t bring himself to voice the rest of it, the painful truth that has been haunting him since the moment Luce came back: Ben won’t survive it Luce leaves him again, not if Luce allows Ben to believe he can keep him .
“I had to leave you,” Luce says, his voice trembling slightly. “It was the only way to keep you safe.”
Ben’s heart sinks with confusion, “Safe? From what?” Ben had been in juvie, sure, but no one had bothered him, not since Luce killed his abuser. As for Luce himself—“I swear to god if you were pulling some Edward Cullen bullshit—” Ben’s hands clench into fists with anger. He has never been afraid of Luce, not really, and if the stupid monster had decided to make that decision for them both?—
Luce’s dark eyes leap to Ben’s like he’s been electrocuted. “No!” he yelps, sounding almost insulted. “Not from me. You could break me like a twig if you wanted to! But I never told you about my father, did I? He was dangerous and mean and controlling and when he noticed that I was … not as bloodthirsty as he was, he sent me away, and I wound up under your bed.”
There is so much Ben doesn’t know about his strange friend, so much he doesn’t know about a world that he barely believes in.
“This world, Ben— your world—was supposed to make me stronger, make me crueler, and my father was always going to come back for me. I should never have followed you around; I should never have become your friend. It was selfish and weak of me, and it put you in danger. When my father called me home, I had to leave immediately. I couldn’t risk him coming after me and finding you.”
Ben swallows, wishing he had thought to refill the water glass on his bedside table before starting this conversation. “He would have hurt me,” he fills in the blank, and Luce flinches, looking up at Ben with guilt-stricken eyes.
“Worse,” Luce says, his sharp, pearly claws cutting into his palms. Ben forces himself to relax, wedging his own hands into Luce’s fists to prevent any more harm to that soft skin. “My father wanted to control me and my sisters. He thought that if I had someone to love, someone who could give me strength, he could lose his grip on me. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t have hurt you. He would have made me do it.”
Ben processes this, trying to wrap his mind around what Luce isn’t saying, the awful truth he is speaking around. Ben thinks of his own trauma as relatively mild, all things considered, and he dealt with most of it in therapy. But he knows better than to push for more details, his mind shying away from the abuse Luce suffered before he was sent away, and the abuse he likely suffered after, all in the name of keeping Ben safe.
“You could have run,” Ben realizes. “But if you did, and your father came looking, he would have found me before he found you.”
“It was for the best,” Luce says firmly, gripping Ben’s hands. “I wasn’t going to let you get caught in the crossfire. I knew if I stayed away, he’d leave you alone. I was terrified of what he might do.”
Ben’s heart aches for Luce, but more than that, inside he is raging at his own helplessness, his own role as clueless anchor, trapping Luce in his father’s grip.
“You should have told me. We could have figured something out together.”
Luce shakes his head. “You don’t understand. He was powerful. I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to come back, but I couldn’t let him use you against me.”
A heavy silence fills the room. Ben’s thoughts swirl, pieces of the past starting to fall into place. “But you’re back now,” he says, a hint of hope in his voice. “ Something changed.”
Luce looks up, eyes bright with a mix of bloodlust and satisfaction. “My sisters and I … we killed him. He spent years pitting us against each other, ensuring each of us thought of the others as threats. But he made the mistake of hitting our mother in front of us, and it turned out that all of us, working together, were enough. We tore him to pieces in his own throne room.”
Ben feels a surge of emotion—relief, joy, and a lingering sense of anger. “You killed him. You’re free.” His voice sounds far away, even to his own ears. Ben’s mind keeps throwing images at him—a hulking, fire-eyed monster leering at his sleeping form, able at any moment to tear Ben to pieces, no matter how hard he fought, no matter how loudly he begged. Ben rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes, struggling to suppress his imagination until it can only haunt him in his inevitable nightmares.
Clearly, he has a lot of processing to do, but it will have to wait until Luce doesn’t need Ben to be present with him.
“We had to,” Luce insists, his voice firm. “But I … I want to come home. I want to be with you, Ben.”
Ben’s heart swells at the thought, but he can’t ignore the complications. “Home? What does that mean? Will you leave again if one of your other family members comes looking?”
Luce reaches for Ben’s hand, his touch sending warmth through Ben’s body. “They won’t. They promised. Besides, my sisters don’t care about anything but their own power. As long as I don't threaten that, they’ll never come after me. I’ll leave if you want me to, but you are the only home I have ever had.”
Ben searches Luce’s eyes, seeking the truth in his words. “If you come back, you cannot leave again, Luce. Do you understand me?” He hesitates, hating to say the words but unwilling to lie to Luce, unwilling to take a risk on something this important. “Your father might have made you injure me; he might have made you kill me. But you disappearing absolutely gutted me. If you do it again, you will break me. If you do it again, you can never come back. I deserve better than that. Am I being absolutely clear?”
Luce flinches, hunching his frail shoulders around his ears. “Crystal,” he whispers. “I’ve spent ten years wishing I could see you again, wanting nothing more than to come home. Please let me stay, Ben. I’ll give you everything you want—I’ll be anything you need. I just want you. ”
The weight of Luce’s words fills the air, and Ben’s heart pounds in his chest. Not even in the filthiest of fever dreams has he imagined Luce saying something like that, let alone meaning it . His words hit every button Ben has, every tendency to cherish and protect and dominate and in that moment Ben knows that he lied. Luce can leave him a million times and Ben will forgive him whenever he shows up. Ben will offer him his heart to be smashed over and over and over again, just for the chance to see Luce smile at him.
“I just want you to stay,” Ben manages, because now is not the time for his sexual proclivities or to admit how lost he remains for his pretty monster. He shouldn’t be. Not after ten years, and certainly not as an adult, no longer a child nursing his first crush, isolated from the rest of the world and hero worshiping the most unlikely of saviors. “Please, don’t ever leave me.” Again. The final word goes unsaid, but Ben is sure that Luce hears it in the needy squeak of his voice, breaking like it did for that awful period of time when he was thirteen.
He doesn’t mean to beg, but he can’t bring himself to regret it when Luce’s mouth falls open, shock and awe clear across his rapidly warming face.
“I won’t,” Luce whispers, bringing one of Ben’s hands to his mouth and brushing his lips over Ben’s knuckles in a kiss Ben feels down to his bones. “I love you. I just want to be by your side again.”
The quiet confession is enough to break what little will Ben has left. His anger leaves him, the slight hint of fear and any trace of logic and maturity abandoning him completely. “You’ve always had my heart,” he tells his monster. “I never stopped loving you. I would have waited for you forever.”
Luce’s face firms into determination, and he shifts his weight, scrambling until he is on Ben’s lap, his knees on either side of Ben’s hips. Ben’s attention shifts, rapidly, to just how long it has been since he’s had sex, to just how affected he is by Luce’s persistent seduction attempts. Ben’s hands find their way to Luce’s slim hips and Luce sighs, shifting slightly until Ben holds him still, noting with pleasure the widening of Luce’s eyes, the faint flush of his luminescent skin.
“So love me,” Luce invites, the implication in his voice clear. “Forever.”
Ben has every intention of doing so, but he needs to make his point before he forgets everything else. “Not until you promise to be honest with me,” Ben says, voice firm. “If someone comes for you, you let me know. If I am in danger, we decide what to do together . You do not vanish off the face of the earth without a single word.” He shakes Luce, just hard enough to ensure that he has his attention. “Do you understand me?”
“I promise I’ll keep you safe,” Luce says, a hint of a smile returning to his lips. “No more secrets. I want to be with you, Ben, in every way.”
Ben knows he’s being manipulated, can see how neatly Luce sidesteps his question, promising safety and honesty but not that he won’t leave if he thinks it necessary. He considers pushing the issue, attempting to bully his way into an agreement, but that will only lead to Luce lying to him.
Ben is tired of lies. He lifts Luce from his lap reluctantly but firmly, ignoring his dissatisfied little yelp as Ben deposits him on his feet. “I’m taking you to dinner,” Ben explains, needing time and space to smooth over the lingering consequences of both their choices. He wants Luce, he plans to have him, but not until his hands aren’t shaking, not until he is no longer rattled.
“I’m not hungry,” Luce whines, uncharacteristically pouty.
Ben smiles, charmed by Luce’s neediness. “I am,” he replies softly. “And I want pizza. How long has it been since you’ve had pizza?”
Luce flashes his fangs at Ben. “How long has it been since you fed me pizza?”
Ben stands up with a laugh, thinking back to the flat squares of over-sugared tomato sauce and cheap cheese that he used to smuggle back to his room for Luce. “That was cardboard, not Giovanni’s. Trust me.”
“I do,” Luce relents, putting his hand in Ben’s with a shy, happy smile.
I t’s a first date, but it hardly feels like one. There’s no need for small talk, no awkward pauses followed by rushed interruptions as they both talk at the same time. Ben has never been able to be himself with anyone else the way he can with Luce. They don’t talk about anything deep, delving into the past unnecessary when instead they can focus on the future.
The only difference is that this time, Luce isn’t hiding: he is out in public, the faint shimmer to his skin dismissed as highlight, his fangs hidden behind his wine glass. The only eyes on Luce are covetous, envious when they meet Ben’s. Luce doesn’t seem to notice, his luminous gaze fixed firmly on Ben, but Ben is just a man, and he can’t help but be proud.
Luce nearly skips home, clearly giddy from the single glass of wine and the good food—and maybe because he’s as happy as Ben is, high on the future they are planning on building together.
His joy is contagious, and Ben lets it spread through him like molasses, slow and sweet and purposeful. I’m going to make love to him, he thinks.
They kiss in the elevator and Ben spins Luce under his arm down the hallway in a breathless, clumsy dance. They don’t bother turning on any lights before their shoes are kicked off, shirts and belts hitting the floor before they fall onto the already mussed sheets of Ben’s bed. Their bed.
“Have you ever had sex before?” Ben murmurs, nipping the question into the underside of Luce’s jaw.
Luce’s fingers tangle in Ben’s hair, pulling pleasantly against his scalp. “No,” he admits. “But yours isn’t the only bed I’ve been under. I know the basics.”
Ben shouldn’t be happy about Luce’s inexperience, but Luce has always felt like his , and this feels no different.
Luce misinterprets Ben’s sudden stillness and reaches up to touch Ben’s face. “It’s okay,” Luce reassures him. “I trust you. You aren’t going to hurt me.”
“Never, never, never,” Ben replies, leaning down to kiss Luce again, deeper and harder, his hands slipping over Luce’s body, tracing the lithe muscles and tugging his pants down his thighs and over his knees.
“Oh,” Luce breathes, going limp and malleable in Ben’s arms. It lights a fire in Ben’s blood, calling to his darker nature. He takes a moment to roll over to the side of the bed, digging through his bedside table’s drawer for the bottle of lube he keeps there.
Luce lies on the bed, eyes closed, body trembling though Ben has barely touched him. It makes Ben feel feral, so hungry and needy that his skin can barely contain him. He runs a warm hand down Luce’s chest, stopping just above his navel. Luce opens his eyes and meets Ben’s, a smirk playing on his lips. “Touch me,” he whispers. “Please.”
"Where should I touch you, Luce?" Ben asks, his voice low and seductive in the shadowy warmth of the bedroom. “Here?” He tweaks a rosy nipple, catching Luce’s surprised little yelp with his mouth. “What about here?” He slips his hand lower, over Luce’s hips until he can brush his fingers over Luce’s slim, pale cock.
Luce moans, arching up off the bed, his fingernails scrabbling against Ben’s sheets, his sharp little claws tearing the cheap fabric. “Oh, you like that.” Ben grins, shifting his grip on Luce’s cock, giving it a soft squeeze. Luce cries out, arching further into Ben's touch. Ben chuckles and sits up, pulling Luce into his lap.
Ben guides Luce's hand to his own cock, which is already hard. "You are so beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss Luce's neck. "I can't wait to see you take my cum."
Luce whimpers at the thought, his fingers tightening around Ben's shaft. Ben pulls away, causing Luce to pant in frustration and chase his lips with a tilt of his chin. Luce rolls his hips backwards, grinding his ass against Ben’s hard cock.
"Not yet," Ben says, laying Luce back against the pillow. "First, I need to open your tight little ass."
Luce nods eagerly, sharp fangs digging into his lips. Ben slides down the bed, settling his shoulders between Luce’s spread legs, humming as he opens the bottle of lube and coats his fingers with slickness. He wants to see this up close, needs to watch Luce stretch and prepare to take Ben’s length.
Luce cries out as Ben presses two fingers inside him, his body tensing in pleasure. Ben pumps his fingers in and out, curling them to hit just the right spot. Luce whimpers, hips bucking against Ben's hand. Ben hadn’t been sure how similar Luce’s anatomy was to humans’, but judging from Luce’s reaction, he is built in much the same way.
"So tight," Ben murmurs, eyes fixated on the sight of his fingers disappearing inside of Luce.
Luce moans, throwing his head back and flashing the pale arch of his throat. Ben can’t resist the invitation and leans down, sucking a mark high on Luce’s neck. He adds a third finger, stretching Luce's tight hole further.
Ben takes his time opening Luce up, dragging his lips over Luce’s jaw and kissing him softly on the lips. "You are so beautiful," he murmurs. “So warm and tight. I can’t wait to be inside you. I can’t wait to feel you cum around me.”
“I’m ready,” Luce growls, his claws finding Ben’s shoulders and sinking in, sending sparks of hot pain down his spine.
Ben eases his fingers free, adding more lube to his hand before he strokes his own hard, weeping cock, coating his length with lube. He kisses Luce deeply, gently positioning his cock at Luce’s loosened rim of muscle and easing inside, swallowing Luce’s startled cry.
Luce arches into the sensation, his body begging for more. Ben begins to move, savoring the scalding grip of Luce’s body. Luce cries out, claws digging into Ben's shoulders as he does.
Ben leans down to nip at Luce's neck, his free hand gripping Luce's cock tightly and stroking. "Let go, baby," he pants, too close to the edge for this to take much longer but refusing to orgasm before Luce does.
Luce cries out, his body shuddering as he comes, his hot seed splashing over Ben’s knuckles. Ben groans, muscles turning to water as he rolls them both over in the sheets, his own orgasm taking him by surprise.
Ben lies still for a few moments, trying to catch his breath, holding Luce tightly against his chest. “Are you okay?”
“I’m … sticky,” Luce whispers, nuzzling his face into Ben’s chest.
Ben grins down at him, easing himself out from beneath Luce, humming at the soft noises of discontent. As quickly as he can, he dampens a washcloth and returns to the bedroom, guiding Luce’s legs open and cleaning up the mess.
Luce looks down at him sleepily, biting back a yawn as he tangles his thin fingers in Ben’s hair. “Will you hold me, Ben?” he asks, tugging Ben back up the bed.
Ben goes willingly, dragging the sheet up and over them both.
Outside, the sun begins to break. They’ll sleep through most of it, but it will be a beautiful day.