Benito blinked. “Nowhere.”
Mickey stared, then seemed to let it go. “I know it sounds super heavy when I lay it out, but it saved me, really. I don’t think I’d have ever stopped if I hadn’t hit the bottom so hard.”
Benito blew out a slow breath, digesting. “You don’t know that.”
“Mate.” Mickey closed his eyes. “I was off my nut for three years straight. You think I’m a wreck now? I was another level of carnage back then.”
“I don’t think you’re a wreck.”
Mickey cracked an eye open. “Then you’re blind. I spent the night tweaking out alone at a sex club because I couldn’t handle being at home.”
Alone. More relief flooded Benito. “So? You didn’t use. And you weren’t the only one. You think I came there to fuck someone? Nah, bruv.”
The street slang made Mickey grin, then he cocked a brow. “You didn’t go to hook up?”
“No. I just . . .” Benito released Mickey’s hand, rolled onto his back, and stared at Mickey’s bedroom ceiling. “I just needed to be somewhere else . . . somewhere I could just be a faceless dude who likes getting dick. I didn’t need the actual, uh—”
“The actual dick?”
“Yeah.” Benito smiled as the room grew ever lighter around them. “I guess so. Apparently the only actual dick I’m craving these days is yours.”
Mickey shifted onto his side. “I can relate to that. In reverse, obviously.”
“You didn’t hook up at the club?”
“It didn’t even cross my mind.”
“For real?” Benito tore his gaze from the ceiling and lost himself instantly in Mickey’s flinty greys. “You don’t have to tell me either way. It’s not my business.”
“It’s not my business if you’ve fucked anyone else recently either. I’m still glad you haven’t, though, if I’ve got that right.”
“You have. But why do you care who I fuck?”
Mickey brought his hand to Benito’s face. He cupped his cheek and rubbed his thumb beneath Benito’s scratchy eyes. “Because I’m a masochist. I know your life could undo me, but I can’t give you up. Maybe you’re my new addiction.”
It was the easiest thing in the world to kiss Mickey. Benito stretched his neck and captured Mickey’s mouth with his, slow and sweet, but laced with every fractured drop of hunger he carried for this complex motherfucker.
Daylight forgotten, they shifted until they were the sum total of their bare skin and entwined limbs and nothing else. But despite the rising heat, Mickey made no move to bypass Benito’s underwear, and Benito kept his hands where he could see them. His body screamed to welcome Mickey inside, but his heart ached for something else. For comfort and safety.
For Mickey, more than himself.
Can I be that for him?
Benito had no idea.
13
Mickey woke to the unmistakable sensation of a hot mouth on his dick. I’m dreaming. For fuck’s sake, stay asleep and get to the punchline.
He squeezed his eyes shut, giving in to the heat unfurling with every sweep of Benito’s tongue on his hard length. Because it had to be Benito. Even in Mickey’s dreams, there was no one else who made him feel this way—like he was careening at a hundred miles an hour towards an orgasm so intense it would probably kill him.
I could die like this. Take me. I’m ready.
As if he’d heard Mickey’s pleasured delirium, Benito worked Mickey harder.
Faster.
Deeper.
His throat clung to Mickey’s cock, a tight, wet passage that was almost as incredible as fucking him.
Almost.
Mickey groaned and thrust his hips, but strong hands held him down.
Benito’s hands.
Shit. Am I dreaming about him while he’s right fucking here? Mickey’s eyes flew open. He blinked in the bright light of—fuck, whatever-hell time of day it was—half convinced he’d find himself alone. That Benito would be gone already, if he’d ever been there at all.
Then his gaze fell on the dark mop of hair halfway down the bed, moving up and down as he sucked Mickey dry.
Okay. Not a dream then.
Mickey’s heart leapt, and in the split second it took to come to terms with this strange new world, Benito upped the ante. He tightened his grip on Mickey’s thighs, fingers digging into taut muscle, and turned his molten stare on Mickey, pure fire from beneath his inky lashes.
Fuck fuck fuck. Mickey couldn’t take it. His dick throbbed and pulsed, and a frantic moan tore from his chest. He’d never been blown like this before, by anyone, not just Benito. Mickey loved control too much. Until this moment, he’d honestly believed there was nothing hotter than fucking the mouth of a man on his knees.
But Benito had challenged his beliefs since they’d met. Toppled his resolve and trampled over it. Mickey had gone to sleep with grand plans to keep their friendship platonic—no more kissing. Definitely no more kissing. But he’d been a damn fool. Benito was the best high he’d ever had.
I can’t give him up.
I—
Release barrelled into Mickey, eclipsing rational thought. More crazed sounds fell from him, and he came hard, shooting every drop into Benito’s willing mouth, still fighting his hold on his legs.
“Fuck.” Mickey shuddered, arching from the bed, jolting with each wave of pleasure until his body gave out. “Fuck.” He collapsed against the pillows, panting, sweat shining every inch of his skin. His heart pounded, and for the first time in days, for all the right reasons.
He gazed down at Benito, watching him pull off and wipe his mouth. In his head, he seized his shoulders and tugged him up the bed, but he couldn’t move. “Come here.”
Benito crawled up the bed on shaky arms. He pressed a soft kiss to Mickey’s cheek, then dropped his head, shoulders heaving as if he were the one who’d just shot brain cells out of his dick. “Man, I didn’t mean to do that. Pretty sure I started blowing you before I woke up.”
Mickey rested a cautious hand on top of Benito’s head. “I’m not complaining. I’ve woken up to worse things.”
“Me too, but . . .”
“What?”
Benito finally looked up. His eyes were more guarded than Mickey could deal with. “It’s not why I stayed.”
“I know that.”
“You do?”
“It’s not why I asked you either, or we’d have fucked last night.”
“This morning.”
“That too.”
Benito laughed. The tension knotting his shoulders faded, and he leant against Mickey, his weight gifting Mickey the comforting warmth he’d craved all along.
They lay together for a long moment before Mickey remembered he was the only one who’d had a mind-shaking orgasm. “You know I can blow you too, right? Don’t be shy.”
Benito snorted. “You might have to give me ten minutes. I shot my load just watching you.”
“For real?”
“Real talk. You have no idea how hot you are.”
Deflection bubbled so fast up Mickey’s throat it burned, but Benito’s stomach growled before he could speak, and concern overtook him. “Damn, you missed breakfast.”