Author: Anna Martin
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/anna-martin/page,13,529683-the_lost_boy.html
That made Stan laugh. “Come on,” he said again.
Stan stripped off his T-shirt and kicked off his trainers while Ben was still getting the bedroom door closed behind them. He watched, transfixed, as Stan pushed his tight jeans off too, leaving him in nothing but a pair of very tight black boxers that left nothing to the imagination.
Except Ben didn’t need to imagine anything. He’d been here before. He knew this dance intimately.
Ben had always liked touching Stan when he had his clothes on and Stan was naked, so he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity, not when he had no idea when it might come around again. He pulled Stan in close and kissed up his neck while his hands relearned the shape of Stan’s body.
Things had changed. Stan had changed, for the better. He had hard abdominal muscles now, pecs and defined biceps too. His ass, which had always been phenomenal, was definitely bigger than it used to be. Stan still felt long and lean under his hands, except now he had muscle and fat instead of bones that poked out too far.
Stan threaded his fingers through Ben’s hair and demanded kisses that sent Ben’s brain reeling. He grabbed two perfect handfuls of Stan’s ass and squeezed.
In the end, it was Stan who pulled off Ben’s T-shirt, who helped Ben out of his jeans and trainers and socks, and who sank to his knees to push Ben’s boxers down off his hips.
“Stan—”
“No, I want to,” Stan murmured, before carefully licking up the length of Ben’s cock.
Ben’s knees buckled and he instinctively reached for Stan’s hair. Before he could grab it he stopped himself, and carefully combed his fingers through the fine blond strands instead.
Stan wrapped his lips around the head of Ben’s cock and slowly worked down, licking and gently sucking while his fingertips stroked Ben’s balls.
“Holy shit,” Ben said, then he stopped thinking.
Stan did that thing with his tongue on the underside of Ben’s dick that always made him feel like he was going to come right fucking now and it was almost nice to know that they could still turn each other on like this. The head of Stan’s cock was sticking out from the waistband of his boxers, pink and a little shiny.
“Stan.”
He reached down to give Stan a hand up, and then they stumbled towards Ben’s old bed. After a second Stan kicked off his boxers and sprawled out on the soft grey sheets.
The sight of him there almost stopped Ben’s heart.
Instead of dwelling on, well, anything, he went for living in the moment and took hold of Stan’s foot to kiss his ankle. Then laid more kisses up the side of his calf, on the inside of his knee, then up the sensitive seam of his inner thigh until his face was buried in the crease between Stan’s thigh and his balls. He hitched Stan’s thigh to the side, leaving his legs sprawled, his whole body exposed.
When it dawned on him that he wasn’t prepared for this at all, Ben closed his eyes and groaned.
“Don’t suppose you have a condom?”
Stan tipped his head back and laughed. “Luckily for you, I do.”
“Thank all the gods and goddesses.”
Stan was still laughing as he climbed off the bed and went through to the bathroom, then returned a minute later with two condoms and a bottle of lube that he was fiddling with the plastic wrapper on.
He kicked the door closed and huffed, eventually pulling the plastic off and tossing it to one side.
The sight of him, all long and lean, pale skin, hair falling over his shoulders and cock hard, was something else.
Ben grabbed his balls and squeezed them to take the edge off.
“While you’re already fiddling with it….”
Stan tossed him a condom.
“I wasn’t fiddling with it,” Ben grouched. “Here. I want to do that.”
Stan silently handed him the bottle of lube, then lay down on his stomach next to Ben.
“Did I tell you already how incredible your ass is?” Ben asked.
“No. Tell me again.” Stan got a leg up underneath himself, exposing his hole. Ben leaned forward and kissed it. Stan jumped, then shuddered.
“It’s really incredible.”
Stan was mid-laugh when Ben slicked lube over his hole and edged one finger inside. The laugh quickly turned into a groan.
Stan didn’t let Ben tease him for long. He was impatient, and Ben was too, so that was okay. After a few minutes of Ben’s fingers working slowly into his ass, Stan sat up and nudged Ben onto his back.
“Condom,” he said, his voice husky and low.
Ben forced himself to breathe slowly and not break the damn thing as he worked to get it on his cock, then Stan’s hands were there, slicking more lube on top of the latex.
“Jesus Christ, Stan,” Ben muttered.
But Stan was already swinging his leg over Ben’s thigh, gripping Ben’s cock and then slowly, carefully, sinking down on it.
Ben couldn’t have looked away if his life depended on it.
Stan dropped his head and his hair fell over his shoulder, partly obscuring his face. Ben shifted on the bed until he could wrap his hands around Stan’s waist, steadying him so his whole weight wasn’t balanced on his thighs.
Slowly, Stan started to rock back and forth.
Ben wanted to kiss him so much he thought he might burst with it.
“Stan,” he murmured, and Stan seemed to get it. He braced his hand on Ben’s chest and leaned forward, the ends of his hair tickling Ben’s skin, and captured his mouth in a kiss that burned all the way down to Ben’s stomach.
They found a good rhythm, a good compromise between a deep grind and frantic thrusting. Whenever Stan switched from one to the other Ben longed for the first, and when Stan pinched one of Ben’s nipples, he thought he might come right then and there.
He reached for Stan’s cock, surprised to find that Stan was already jerking himself off.
“Need a hand?” Ben asked, wanting to laugh at how breathless he sounded.
“No… uh, just…. Fuck, Ben, right there.”
Ben could take a hint.
He grabbed hold of Stan’s hips and directed his cock where Stan needed it, and it didn’t take long for Stan to reward him by moaning Ben’s name as he came all over Ben’s stomach.
“Fuck, Ben,” Stan gasped and fell forward, catching himself on his hands.
Ben was too far gone to argue with him, just thrust up into the tight heat of Stan’s ass and came with a breathless shudder.
He pressed his face to Stan’s neck, not sure what this sudden rush of emotions were, just knowing that he couldn’t cope with it. This was Stan, for fuck’s sake. The one man he thought he’d never have the opportunity to love like this again.
Very carefully, Ben wrapped his arms around Stan’s waist.
A moment later, Stan’s lips brushed over Ben’s ear. “I need you to move, baby.”
Ben managed to carefully roll Stan to the side as he pulled out. Stan pushed his hair back from his face and looked down at himself with a grimace.
“Oops?”
Ben laughed as he disposed of the condom. When he rolled back, Stan was cleaning himself up with a pair of boxers.
“Don’t go,” Ben said in a rush. “Just… stay here for a while?”
“I wasn’t going to. I just need to pee.”
Ben usually fell asleep quickly after sex. He knew it was a guy thing, and he tried to cuddle, he really did, though biology often overtook other desires. Making sure Stan was okay was important, though. So he shuffled around the blankets until they were the way he liked them, and waited for Stan to get back. When Stan shut the door behind himself again, he was wearing clean underwear.
Ben held back the blankets so he could get into bed.
“You’re sure you want me to?” Stan asked in a very quiet voice. “I have my own bed, now.”
“Yes. Please. Stay here tonight. If that’s okay with you.”
“I want to be here.”
Ben threw the blankets over
them both and curled around Stan’s body, holding him close. He pressed one final kiss to Stan’s shoulder, then fell asleep.
Chapter Fifteen
Stan woke with Ben’s arm wrapped around his waist and the rest of him plastered to Stan’s back. He forced himself to stay still as his mind came back online, taking stock of his surroundings and settling into this perfect moment of peace.
Ben was still sleeping; Stan could tell by his deep breathing. They’d spent a lot of time like this, and Stan had half expected to be freaked out by returning to it. But he wasn’t. It felt right.
Very carefully, Stan rolled over and pressed gentle kisses to Ben’s cheek, all the way up to his hairline.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmured, shifting a pillow so Ben could snuggle into it.
Ben grumbled and did as he was told.
On his way to the bathroom, Stan couldn’t help but look back at him. Compared to a few weeks ago when Ben was such a mess, he looked so much better now. His hair was getting long again, a little shaggy around the ears, but Stan liked it like that. He’d put weight on in a good way, so his ribs weren’t so noticeable anymore and his tummy was soft instead of concave. There was so much of Ben to admire. Stan liked looking at him.
He’d always been adorable when he slept, too.
Stan purposefully didn’t think about how hard and fast he was falling.
He ducked into the bathroom and turned the shower on, and brushed the knots out of his hair while he waited for it to warm up. Just as he stepped into the bath, there was a light knock on the door.
“Need to piss,” Ben called.
“Come in.”
“Sorry,” Ben muttered. Stan didn’t look out from around the shower curtain. It was partly his fault, after all, he only had a one-bathroom flat.
Ben flushed the toilet and the water ran cold for a moment. Stan yelped.
“Shit! Sorry.” He stuck his head around the shower curtain. “I forgot it did that.”
“Don’t worry.”
“Can I join you?”
Stan tipped his face up to the water, which was running hot again. “Sure.”
A swarm of butterflies took up residence in his stomach.
Ben stripped off his boxers and stepped into the bath, crowding up close behind Stan and wrapping his arms around Stan’s waist.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
“Morning.”
“Is this okay?”
“Yes.”
Stan guessed that this habit of checking in all the time wasn’t something Ben was going to break any time soon. He didn’t mind. It was definitely better than the alternative, though he was still a little surprised at Ben’s uncertainty. Not just with whatever was brewing between them, but at life in general.
Stan turned around so the water fell on his back and wrapped his arms around Ben’s neck.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Ben said, looking down Stan’s wet body. “Holy shit.”
Stan smiled and leaned in to kiss him. Closed lips, because morning breath.
“Turn around,” Stan said. “I’ll wash your hair.”
It should have felt too intimate, too much. If it were anyone other than Ben, it probably would have been.
Stan used his nice shampoo, because Ben deserved nice things too, and gave him a good head massage while he worked the shampoo through Ben’s hair. He felt Ben shudder under his hands and didn’t mention it.
“I can do yours,” Ben offered, sounding unsure.
“I already washed it. Can you put the conditioner through though?”
“I think I can probably manage that.”
Stan still wore his hair long, down past his shoulder blades to the middle of his back. When he bothered to dry it properly, it could be perfectly straight. These days he wore it up so much he often found little kinks in it.
“What the hell is that?” Stan asked and poked Ben in the stomach as he turned around again.
“Oh. Yeah.”
Stan blinked water out of his eyes. “Is that… a tattoo of two stick figures fucking?”
“Maybe?” Ben gave him a self-depreciating grin.
Stan slapped him on the arm. “Maybe? Ben, that’s awful. You need to get it covered up.”
“I’ve been meaning to for a while.”
Stan shook his head and turned the water off. He grabbed his towel from the rail next to the bath and wrapped it around his waist before passing the next one to Ben. He had another one ready to dry his hair.
“It has to go. Why did you get it in the first place?”
“It was a dare.” Ben sounded slightly proud of himself, and Stan made a mental note to slap him again. “Tone was getting his eagle tattoo on his arm, and I was there for moral support and I got bored. So the other guy in the shop said he’d tattoo me for free as long as he could pick the design.”
“And you said yes?”
“I was bored, Stan.”
Stan slapped his arm. And laughed anyway. “Get it covered up. With something nice.”
“How about a portrait of your face? That’s nice.”
“You’re awful,” Stan said.
He opened the bathroom door and came face-to-face with Tone.
“Oh, hell no,” Tone said. He slapped his hand over his eyes. “I don’t need to see that.”
Ben whipped his towel off and shook his penis in Tone’s direction. Stan shook his head and went into Tone’s old room—now his room again—to find some clothes.
“Are you okay, Tone?” Stan called from the bedroom as he pulled on a pair of boxers.
“Yeah. I came back to pick up that last box of stuff. Neither of you were answering your phones, so….”
“Sorry,” Stan said. He stuck his head back around the door. “Didn’t mean to traumatise you.”
“So, this is a thing again?” Tone waved his hand between Ben, who was using his towel to dry his hair, and therefore standing in the hallway buck naked, and Stan, who at least had underwear on.
“Tone, you should know by now that both Ben and I are anxiety-ridden sacks of flesh and can’t possibly give you a straight answer to that question.”
“How about a not-straight answer?”
“We had sex,” Ben said, sounding immensely proud of himself. “It was really good.”
“I had figured that out by myself, believe it or not. Do you have clothes on yet, Stan?”
“Working on it,” Stan said. He grabbed his yoga pants and pulled them on quickly with a T-shirt over the top.
Tone came in anyway and picked up the small box of non-essential things that Stan had found around the flat and put together for him. He had been planning on dropping it over to the house later. Tone had beaten him to it.
“Fuck’s sake, Ben, put your cock away. No one wants to see that.”
“Untrue,” Ben said.
Tone shook his head. “Congrats on the sex. Please never tell me anything about it. I’ll speak to you guys later.”
Stan waited until he heard the door slam before grinning at Ben.
“Do you think we permanently damaged him?” Ben asked, coming into Stan’s room, still naked, and leaning his chin on Stan’s shoulder.
“We can only hope.”
Ben kissed his neck.
“Go on and put some clothes on. I’ll make breakfast.”
“Mmm. What are you going to make?”
“Do you want anything in particular?” Stan ran his fingers through his hair to separate the wet strands.
“I need a hot breakfast. Omelettes?”
“I can do that.”
Ben kissed him again, and Stan shooed him out of the room.
It felt too good, too easy to slip back into that familiarity with each other. Stan decided he wasn’t going to fight it. They weren’t living together any more, which had cut down dramatically on the amount of time they spent together. Now Stan just wanted to be around him all the time. He had a feeling Ben felt the same way.
Because Ben
’s things were starting to creep back to the flat. Like a spare toothbrush. And underwear. And joggers.
Stan didn’t really mind. He left his hair to dry naturally and went to make tea.
Though Ben was a decent cook, Stan liked making him breakfast. When they were living at the house in Belsize Park, Stan had been the one to make breakfast most mornings, usually because he was the only one who got up early. That was his contribution to the house, being the King of Breakfast.
He cracked eggs in a bowl while the pan heated up on the stove and added cheese and milk, then fried off bacon and mushrooms to fold into the eggs. Ben came out of his room just as the kettle boiled, and Stan pointed at it with the spatula.
“Tea, please.”
“Green or regular?”
“Regular, please. There’s soy milk in the fridge.”
“Gotcha.”
They moved around each other like their steps were synchronised, and then Stan took their plates to the table just as Ben was finished making the tea.
“Thank you,” Ben said as he dug into his eggs.
“You’re welcome.”
Ben had turned the radio on while Stan was cooking, which Stan took to be a good sign. He’d always been one for music and background noise, though he was rarely bothered as to what in particular they were listening to. Today’s choice was Radio Two. Something inoffensive for breakfast time.
They ate in silence, listening to the conversation playing out on the radio, a debate that would never affect them personally. When their plates were clear and the radio DJ played a song, Ben reached across the table to touch Stan’s wrist.
“Hey,” Ben said.
“Hmm?”
“Can we talk for a second?”
“Of course.” Stan sipped his tea, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic.
“Is this… what is this?”
“You mean, what we’re doing?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know.”
Ben gave him a grim sort of smile. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
“What is it to you?” Stan asked carefully.
“Stan, you’re….” Ben shook his head and pushed his plate away. “There’s a lot of things I regret. Letting you go is the biggest. I’ve spent a long time wishing I’d done things differently, and—shit. Stan I used to fantasise about winning you back. I would get high with Tone and daydream all the ways I could convince you to be with me again. The whole, you know… white knight in fucking armour deal.”