My heart skipped. I liked being called his Benji. I really, really liked it.
“He’s horny as hell,” I admitted in a low voice. “You’ve been teasing me for weeks with these gifts. Show me how you really feel.”
Ace slid out of the booth, reaching for me. “Let’s go.”
14
Benji
Arriving at the frat house hand in hand with Ace was a strange experience. Thankfully, we saw only one guy, the one who always looked half-baked, lounging on their old sofa. Surprisingly, he had textbooks spread out on a coffee table in front of him and candy wrappers all around. An energy drink sat next to two soda bottles. Apparently frat boys had to cram for tests every now and then too.
I felt shy about following Ace up the stairs, knowing it was obvious we were going to his room, but Ace’s frat brother barely glanced at us.
“Hitting the books hard?” Ace asked as we passed by.
“Yup,” he said.
That was it. Then step by step, I was heading toward Ace’s bedroom.
Toward sex. With Ace.
Holy fuck.
“Sorry, did you want something?” Ace asked as we arrived at his door.
For one split-second, my heart faltered. And even though it wasn’t rational at all, I worried there’d been a misunderstanding. He didn’t really want me here, and I’d followed him to his room like some loon.
Then he added, “A drink or something?”
I huffed a breath. “No.”
“Good.” Ace grinned, shoving open his door and pulling me in behind him. As soon as it closed, his mouth was on mine, hot and wet, and my body surged to meet his lust without missing a beat. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to look around, but I didn’t care. I’d seen it before, the night I’d been stupid drunk, and the morning Ace confessed his feelings. Never had I thought for a second I’d be visiting his bed this way.
His hands were hard on my waist as he manhandled me, walking me across the room and pushing me down on his bed. The scent of him rose from his bedding, curling around me, and I breathed him in and pulled him closer. He broke our kiss, trailing small kisses along my jaw to my throat.
“You brought that drawing?” he asked in my ear.
My heart lurched, and so did my cock, strangely enough. It was embarrassing but arousing to show him what I’d done. I licked my lips, nodding once. Ace stood up, leaving me lying across the bed sideways. “Let me see.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.” When I hesitated, he added, “Unless you don’t want to see how well the real thing matches up?”
That was incentive to cooperate. Shifting, I rolled to one side so I could reach into my back pocket and withdraw the folded-up sketch I’d torn from my sketchbook. No way was I bringing a fucking backpack on my date, but I also hadn’t wanted to disappoint Ace. I’d kind of hoped he wouldn’t remember to ask again. But I’d drawn the boy naked without his knowledge — even if it had been from my imagination. I owed him this much.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” I said apologetically as I held out the square of paper.
“Unfold it for me.”
Somehow, having to unfold it, expose it, instead of just hand it over, made me feel like I was stripping my own clothes off. I sat up and spread out the sketch, taking a moment to smooth the lines, then peeked up at him. “I didn’t necessarily think this is exactly how you look. It was from my imagination…”
“You didn’t draw me with a thirteen-inch cock or something, did you?”
I blurted a laugh. “No!”
Holding up the sketch, I watched Ace’s eyes scan the image with bated breath. If he hated it, that wouldn’t be too sexy. I was still embarrassed and ashamed I’d done it at all.
Just as I was about to apologize again, his gaze lifted, holding mine. “You’re such a talented artist. I mean that.”
I flushed. “Thanks.”
“I don’t examine my naked body that much, but I’d say you got pretty close. Ready to see how the three-dimensional version looks?”
My mouth dry, my cock hard, my cheeks hot, I was a mess of physical reactions. “Y-yeah.”
Ace grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one smooth move. That body, fuck. I hadn’t come anywhere close to doing it justice. No amount of shading and perspective could adequately capture the glory of supple flesh and shifting muscle, especially not when drawing with a fucking Sharpie. Maybe with graphite pencils, I could have gotten closer, but… No. There was no comparison to the real thing.
Ace still had a light tan, even as we headed toward winter, giving him a warm glow.
I drank in all the details, my urge to memorize each dip and curve of his body as natural as breathing to me. I’d been an artist my whole life, drawing silly dinosaurs and our pet cat, Gigi, since I was four years old. I used to illustrate my own play sets, creating backgrounds for toy robots to battle it out or racetracks for cars. In high school, my only extracurriculars had been art: drawing, painting, sculpting. I’d helped create the backdrops for the school plays, even though I didn’t go to the plays, didn’t make friends with the cast. I was isolated, introverted, feeling painfully alone back then.
Ace moved on to his pants before I was done cataloging the moles just under his collar bone, the hair that thickened between his pecs, then narrowed down the center of his abs, the grooves of his muscles and darkness shading his belly button.
He didn’t say anything, just kicked off his shoes and shoved down his jeans and boxer briefs, leaning over to tug each leg free. And just like that, the man was naked before me, completely, unabashedly naked. He dropped his right hand to the thick, hard shaft that drew my gaze. As much as I enjoyed powerful thighs, the masterpiece was right there, the thing I’d tried to imagine a million times as a horny teen. He was thicker than I’d drawn him but perhaps an inch shorter. Still, I had gotten pretty close. It made sense. Most people were fairly proportionate, and I’d assumed Ace would be as well. But once again, that quick drawing fell woefully short of capturing the raw masculinity that was in a hard cock deepening to a plum color, the spongy tip growing moist with precum.
Ace stroked his shaft slowly, letting me look my fill without rushing me. His eyes were half-closed, his lips parted. He was a fucking god. My mouth watered as I gazed up at him, and instinct took over.
“Wow,” I whispered. “You’re gorgeous.”
He refocused his eyes on me. “I’m okay,” he said. “You’re the gorgeous one.”
I laughed nervously as he put a knee on the bed, crawling up and over me, pushing me onto my back. I never had been great at accepting compliments. Accepting them while a naked man hovered over me? Didn’t really help, strangely enough.
“Um … what now?” I asked stupidly. My eyes darted to the bowl of condoms on the bedside table. “Are we going to fuck?”
The word felt so bold coming out of my mouth, but I could feel my face heating up. This was all happening fast, but at the same time, it felt as if it’d taken a million years to get here. I wanted him, but my heart was racing and all the nerves I’d shed during the date came rushing back to the surface.