Chapter 4: Chapter 4
The silence that followed was a comfortable, living thing. For the rest of the afternoon, Dave and Ben worked in an easy rhythm, the air between them cleared of tension and charged instead with a new, knowing electricity. Dave’s earlier agitation was gone, replaced by a focused calm. Ben processed invoices with a quiet efficiency, the taste of Dave still a phantom memory on his tongue. The construction site outside fell silent as the crew departed, leaving only the distant hum of city traffic.
Dave looked up at the clock, its fluorescent numbers glowing in the dimming office light. “You should’ve left thirty minutes ago, kid.”
Ben didn’t look up from his screen. “Wanted to make sure you had everything you needed before I took off.” He finally lifted his gaze, meeting Dave’s eyes directly, then letting it drop, slow and obvious, to the pronounced bulge straining against Dave’s jeans.
A slow smile spread across Dave’s face. He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking. “Let’s be clear, then. No bullshit. This… assistance. How regularly would you be up for providing it? Honesty.”
The answer left Ben’s lips before his brain could filter it. “Morning. Lunch. End of day.”
Dave’s eyebrows shot up. “You’d blow me three times a day? Every day?”
Ben grinned, a flash of his hidden confidence. “I have a lot of time to make up.”
“Make up?” Dave looked genuinely confused.
“Trent’s was the first cock I’d ever sucked. Before yesterday.”
Dave stared at him, disbelief etched on his features. “Get the fuck out. Seriously? No way. You’re a natural.”
“I’m grateful for the innovation in silicone assistance,” Ben said, and they both laughed, the sound warm in the quiet office. Ben’s eyes drifted back down. Dave’s cock was pushing insistently against his zipper, tenting the denim. Ben took that as his cue.
He stood, and this time, he didn’t just kneel. He pulled his own button-down shirt over his head, folding it neatly on his desk chair. His chest was pale and slender, exposed in the fluorescent light. He approached Dave’s desk and sank to his knees on the cool vinyl floor.
He undid Dave’s jeans with practiced fingers, freeing his thick, heavy cock. It sprang out, already fully hard, the head dark and leaking. Ben didn’t just take it in his mouth. He experimented. He started with long, slow licks from root to tip, flattening his tongue against the prominent vein on the underside. He nuzzled his face into Dave’s coarse pubic hair, inhaling the deep, musky scent. He took the head in, swirling his tongue around the corona, then sank deeper, relaxing his throat until his nose was buried in skin.
He used his hands. One worked the base in a tight fist, matching the rhythm of his mouth. The other reached below, cupping Dave’s heavy balls, rolling them gently in his palm, then applying a soft, insistent pressure. He moved his fingers further back, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb over Dave’s taint, pressing up towards his prostate. He reached up with his free hand, pinching one of Dave’s flat, brown nipples through the cotton of his t-shirt, then tugging it gently.
He wanted to do it all. To service every part of him. He bobbed his head faster, then slower, varying the suction, humming softly to create vibration. He pulled off with a wet pop and looked up, Dave’s cock glistening with his saliva. “Tell me what you like,” Ben breathed, his own arousal a tight ache.
“Just like that. Don’t stop,” Dave grunted, his hands fisting at his sides, knuckles white.
Ben returned to his task with renewed fervor. He could feel Dave’s thighs beginning to tremble. The warning grunts grew sharper. Ben wanted to see it this time. He pulled off, stroking Dave fast and hard with his spit-slicked hand, his other hand still kneading Dave’s balls.
“Gonna come,” Dave warned, his voice a strangled rasp.
“On me,” Ben panted. “Please.”
Dave’s orgasm hit him like a freight train. His hips jerked off the chair as thick, hot ropes of cum shot out, splattering across Ben’s cheek, his chin, his collarbone and pale chest. Ben kept stroking, milking every last pulse, watching with wide, reverent eyes as the white streaks landed on his skin. The smell, pungent and fertile, filled his nostrils.
He was panting. He looked down at the mess cooling on his chest. Slowly, deliberately, he swiped two fingers through the biggest pool on his sternum, gathering it. He held Dave’s gaze as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, his tongue swirling around his knuckles. He did it again, cleaning another streak from his chin. He ate every drop.
Dave watched him, his breath still heavy, his eyes dark with pure, unadulterated lust. “So,” Dave said, his voice rough. “You’re really into blowjobs, huh?”
Ben shook his head, sitting back on his heels, cum still glistening on his torso. “I am into cock,” he replied, the boldness unfamiliar and thrilling on his tongue. “And, if the cock is good, I’ll take it anywhere.”
Dave’s eyebrows raised. A slow, wicked smile transformed his face. “Good to know,” he said, the words full of promise. He leaned forward, grabbing Ben by the back of the neck, and pulled him into a deep, claiming kiss, tasting his own essence on Ben’s lips. He broke away. “I’ll see you,” he said, giving Ben’s ass a firm slap through his khakis, “and your asshole, in the morning.”
Ben stood on shaky legs, grabbing his shirt and quickly putting it on. He headed for the door. With his hand on the knob, he glanced back over his shoulder, a sly smile playing on his cum-sticky face. “I think you’re talking about my pussy.”
He heard Dave bark a single, happy laugh as he slipped out into the evening. The sound followed him down the stairs. He felt exhilarated, powerful in a way he never had before. He was excited to get home, to his toys, to the private exploration this new confidence demanded.
He was halfway to the subway when his phone buzzed.
Trent: You up for a hangout?
Ben smiled, typing as he walked.
Ben: I’ll be home in 30 mins. Should I shower Dave’s cum off my chest first?
The reply was immediate.
Trent: I will lick you clean.
When Ben rounded the corner to his apartment building, Trent was already there, leaning against the brick wall, hoodie up against the evening chill. He pushed off as Ben approached, his easy grin in place.
“Hey, you.”
“Hey.” Ben unlocked the door, leading him inside.
The apartment was warm. Trent shrugged off his hoodie, tossing it on the couch. “So, how was round two with the bossman?”
“Informative,” Ben said, fetching his little wooden box. They sat side-by-side, knees touching, as Ben packed a small bowl. They passed it back and forth, the familiar haze softening the edges of the room. They talked about nothing—a movie Trent had seen, a video game Ben was playing. The conversation was easy, punctuated by comfortable silences.
Trent’s hand found Ben’s thigh, fingers tracing the seam of his khakis. He turned, his eyes bright from the weed. “Come here,” he murmured, and pulled Ben into a kiss.
It started slow, a lazy exploration. Then Trent’s hands were under Ben’s still-cum-sticky shirt, spreading over his ribs, his thumbs brushing his nipples. He broke the kiss and pushed the shirt up. “Fuck, he really painted you, didn’t he?” Trent breathed before lowering his head.
He didn’t just lick. He lapped at Ben’s skin with broad, hungry strokes, cleaning the dried streaks from his chest and stomach with a dedicated thoroughness that made Ben arch off the couch. The scratch of Trent’s stubble, the wet heat of his tongue, the sheer obscenity of the act—it was overwhelming. Trent moved lower, unfastening Ben’s pants, pulling them and his briefs down to his ankles.
“On your stomach,” Trent instructed, his voice thick.
Ben obeyed, presenting himself. He felt Trent’s hands spread his cheeks, and then that incredible, focused wetness returned. Trent ate his ass with a leisurely, devastating expertise. This wasn’t like the frantic, surprising first time. This was a deep, knowing worship. Trent’s tongue probed and circled, flattening against his hole before spearing inside with delicious pressure. He sucked on the tender flesh, licking from his taint all the way up his cleft.
Ben was lost in the sensation, his hips rocking back against Trent’s face, his own cock trapped and leaking onto the couch cushions. The coil tightened, unbearable and exquisite. “Trent… I’m gonna…”
“Come on,” Trent growled against him, the vibration tipping Ben over the edge.
Ben came with a broken cry, his orgasm wrenched from him, his body shuddering through wave after wave of pleasure as Trent’s tongue never stopped its relentless, slippery work.
When the last tremor passed, Trent gave him one final, soft kiss there before sitting up. Ben heard the rip of a condom packet, the rustle of clothing.
“Ready?” Trent asked, his hand stroking Ben’s flank.
“Yeah. Please. Go slow.”
Trent was careful. He used more spit, pressing the head of his cock against Ben’s loosened, wet hole. He pushed in with an inch of gradual, burning pressure, then stopped. “Breathe,” he whispered.
Ben exhaled, and Trent sank in another inch. It was a stretching, filling sensation so different from a toy—alive, pulsing, connected to a breathing man. Trent waited, letting Ben adjust, dropping kisses on his shoulder blades. When Ben pushed back, Trent slid home, sheathing himself completely with a low groan.
“Fuck, Ben… you’re so tight.”
He began to move, a slow, deep roll of his hips. He found a rhythm, each thrust punching a soft grunt from Ben’s throat. The initial burn faded, replaced by a deep, thrilling fullness. Trent reached around, taking Ben’s soft cock in his hand, stroking him back to life with a gentle, persistent touch.
The dual stimulation was incredible. Ben felt another orgasm building, different from the first, deeper and more diffuse, radiating from where they were joined. Trent’s pace increased, his breathing ragged in Ben’s ear. “Gonna come inside you,” he panted. “Okay?”
“Yes,” Ben gasped.
Trent’s thrusts became shorter, harder, more urgent. With a sharp cry, he buried himself to the hilt, his body going rigid. Ben felt the throb of his release through the condom. The heat, the intimacy of it, sent Ben tumbling over the edge a second time. He came silently, his cum spilling over Trent’s fist, his channel clenching rhythmically around Trent’s still-pulsing cock.
They collapsed together onto the couch, a sweaty, sticky tangle of limbs. Trent carefully pulled out and disposed of the condom. He curled behind Ben, an arm thrown over his waist.
“So,” Trent said, nuzzling the back of Ben’s neck. “First time getting fucked.”
“Yeah.”
“And you came twice.”
“Yeah.”
Trent laughed, a warm, satisfied sound. “You’re a fucking prodigy, Ben.” He squeezed him. “Get some sleep.”
As Ben drifted off, nestled against Trent’s warmth, he thought of Dave’s wicked smile and his promise for the morning. A shiver of anticipation, sweet and deep, ran through him. He wasn’t making up for lost time anymore. He was collecting it, savouring it, one perfect, filthy moment at a time.