Jordan must have been quiet too long, lost in the sick, dizzying spiral of his own head, because when Ben spoke again the easy warmth was gone. His voice carried a thin, nervous edge now, like a blade wrapped in cotton.
“Look… I know it’s fucked up.” Ben forced a laugh that cracked halfway through, brittle and wrong. “I’ll get it under control, okay? I swear. Just… don’t think bad of me because of it, Jord. Please.”
The last word came out small, almost pleading.
Jordan’s heart lurched so violently it hurt.
That voice. That tremor. That was the Ben from the darkest months, the one who used to sit hunched on the edge of the bed at 4 a.m., elbows on his knees, whispering I’m sorry, I’m sorry like a broken record because his cock wouldn’t answer and he thought that made him worthless. The Ben who hid in hoodies two sizes too big, who flinched from mirrors, who looked at Jordan with begging eyes, terrified of being left. Jordan would burn the whole world down before he let that man come back.
“It wasn’t weird,” Jordan blurted, the words tumbling out before his brain caught up, “it was hot.”
The second they left his mouth he felt the heat slam into his face, a full-body flush that crawled up his neck and burned in his ears.
Ben’s brows shot up, slow and deliberate, hazel eyes widening behind the glasses.
Jordan swallowed, mortified. “I mean… okay, it was a bit weird too.”
Ben tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“But you think it was hot?” he asked, voice careful, like he was testing thin ice.
“I mean, I…” Jordan stammered, the words tangling on his tongue. Ben’s smile was stretching, slow and wicked, into a full-blown smirk that made Jordan’s stomach flip. Heat flooded his cheeks so violently he had to jerk his head toward the window, hiding behind the rain-streaked glass like it could save him.
“Yeah,” he muttered to the dark city outside, barely audible, “it was hot.”
Ben shifted in the seat, leather creaking. “What was that, baby? What’d you think was hot?”
“I… I don’t know, Ben.”
“Yeah, you do,” Ben cut in, voice pure velvet, laced with that teasing edge Jordan was so grateful he could hear. He could actually hear the smirk now, thick and smug and fond all at once. “Come on, Jord. Tell me.”
Jordan risked one quick glance, and there it was: the biggest, most infuriating shit-eating grin plastered across Ben’s face, beard barely hiding the smug curve of it. Asshole. Jordan whipped his head back to the window so fast his neck cracked. Safer out there. The same cab driver fighting sleep, the same red brake lights, the same rain. Anything but that grin.
Still, the words crawled out of him like they’d been waiting behind his teeth all night.
“The way you just… let go,” he muttered, voice small against the glass.
Ben’s low chuckle rolled through the cabin, warm and filthy.
“Yeah?” he teased, drawing the word out slow, savoring it. “That was hot for you, baby?”
“It was, okay?” Jordan’s voice cracked, too loud in the sealed cabin. “I never saw you like that… you looked, I dunno… like a fucking king.”
His heart was hammering so hard he could feel it in his bones, the same frantic, helpless rhythm that had owned him back in the studio: body on fire, cock aching, brain short-circuiting with the single, shameful question of why watching Ben destroy someone else made him this stupidly, violently horny.
Ben’s answer came low, almost a growl, the kind of tone that used to live only in their bedroom on the rare nights Ben let himself be a little rougher.
“Yeah,” he rumbled, “I felt like a king.”
The words slid down Jordan’s spine like hot oil.
“And Ezra…” Jordan kept going, the confession spilling out before shame could clamp his mouth shut, because apparently he wasn’t in control of his voice anymore. His cock was. “He was so hot too, Ben.”
He said it like a prayer and a curse at once, eyes still fixed on the rain, terrified to look over and see what that truth had done to Ben’s face.
“You think so, baby?”
“Yeah, I really do... he just... took it you know? He was so good”
Ben didn’t said anything for a while and Jordan was about to panic. Had he gone too far? Was Ben thinking he was a weirdo, wondering what the fuck he was talking about? But then Ben finally said. “Look at me, Jord”
Jordan’s heart slammed once, hard, against his ribs. Slowly, like moving through water, he turned his head. Ben’s eyes were waiting, steady behind the glasses, burning with something dark and unreadable. No judgment. No retreat. Just hunger, patient and absolute, like a man who’d just realized the game had changed and he was still holding all the cards.
“What else did you think of Ezra?” Ben asked, voice suddenly stripped of teasing, low and serious, like a judge waiting for a verdict.
Jordan didn’t see him move; he only felt the world tilt. One second Ben was sprawled across the opposite seat; the next he was right there, massive frame sliding across the leather until their hips locked together. A heavy arm dropped over the back of the seat, caging Jordan in. Ben loomed, all 6’7” of heat and quiet menace, beard inches away, glasses catching the passing streetlights in sharp, dangerous flashes. Jordan’s breath snagged. Ben’s chest rose and fell against his shoulder. Warm breath ghosted across his cheek, smelling faintly of spearmint and something… else. Underneath the familiar cologne Jordan had bought him last month was another scent, raw and unmistakable: Sex. Swear. Lube and cum and Ezra, still clinging to Ben like a brand.
Jordan’s pulse thundered in his ears. He was drowning in it: the heat rolling off Ben’s body, the faint musk of what he’d done, the weight of that huge arm pinning him gently but completely in place. He couldn’t have moved if the car caught fire.
“He just looked so good, Ben,” Jordan whispered, the confession sliding out easier now, like the words had been waiting their whole lives for this moment.
Ben’s huge hand curled into Jordan’s hair, gentle, familiar, the same way he used to do while they were on the couch watching Precinct 12. The other hand dropped to Jordan’s thigh, thick fingers clamping down hard, dangerously close to the aching of his cock. A single squeeze, possessive, and Jordan’s breath hitched sharp enough to cut.
“You think Ezra looked good on my cock, baby?” Ben murmured.
“So good, Benny. Fuck.” Jordan’s voice cracked. “He looked like… like he was born for it, you know?”
The words tore out of him and his cock answered instantly, rigid, straining against the denim so hard the seam felt like it might split. One throb, two, twitching helplessly into his boxers.
“Wanna know the truth, baby?” Ben asked, voice velvet-rough, dangerous.
“Wh-what?” Jordan stammered, terrified and starving all at once, every nerve lit up and waiting for the next blow.
“He felt like that too,” Ben whispered, lips brushing the shell of Jordan’s ear, the words a slow, deliberate burn. His voice was so deep it vibrated straight through Jordan’s ribs, down his spine, pooling hot and liquid in his gut. “He felt like he was made to take my cock, baby. Like he was born for that. For me.”
He caught the lobe between his teeth, a sharp, possessive bite that made Jordan’s breath stutter. Jordan clamped down on his own lip, hard, desperate to swallow the moan clawing up his throat. Then Ben’s huge hand slid up and palmed the rigid line of Jordan’s cock through his jeans and the sound tore out of him anyway: a small, wrecked, helpless moan that cracked in the middle.
“His hole felt so good, Jord,” Ben went on, merciless, massaging now in slow, firm strokes that matched the rhythm of his words. “Fuck, so warm. So loose. Like we had this… bond, you know? Like I knew in my fuckin’ bones I could go crazy on him and he’d love every second of it.”
Jordan’s head thudded back against the seat, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the leather. “Ben…” It came out weak, trembling, barely a word at all.
He was distantly aware of the privacy screen, of Barnaby’s silhouette just beyond the black glass, of the city crawling past in useless inches. None of it mattered. The whole world had narrowed to the heat of Ben’s palm, the scrape of beard against his neck, the filthy confession pouring straight into his ear like poison he was begging to drink.
“It felt like heaven, Jord,” Ben growled, the words hot and wet against his ear. One-handed, impossibly deft, he popped the button on Jordan’s jeans, dragged the zipper down tooth by tooth. The sound was obscene in the quiet cabin. His other hand never stopped its gentle petting along Jordan’s hair, loving and almost cruel in a counterpoint to the things spilling from his mouth.
“You think I looked like a king? I felt like a king, baby. Fuck, I felt like a fucking god, and Ezra was my offering.”
Then his hand shoved under the waistband of Jordan’s already soaked boxer-briefs and closed around his cock in one brutal, perfect grip.
Pleasure detonated up Jordan’s spine, white-hot and blinding. The moan that ripped out of him was loud, too loud, but Ben was already there, swallowing it whole. His mouth crashed down on Jordan’s, savage and claiming, beard scraping skin, tongue forcing past his lips like he owned every inch of air inside him. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was conquest. Ben licked deep, filthy, messy, tongue fucking Jordan’s mouth in brutal strokes that matched the slow, punishing twist of his fist around Jordan’s cock. Spit slicked their chins, teeth clashed, breath shared in harsh, desperate pants. Jordan whimpered into it, helpless, drowning, hips jerking helplessly into Ben’s grip while Ben devoured him like he was starving and Jordan was the first meal he’d had in years.
“You wanna hear more?” Ben rasped, lips still brushing Jordan’s, breath ragged and hot.
Jordan could only nod, frantic, pathetic, his whole body trembling on the edge of something shattering.
“What else, baby? Tell me.” Ben’s fist gave one slow, deliberate stroke, thumb swiping over the slick head and dragging a broken whimper out of him.
“S-say it again,” Jordan managed, voice cracking in half, “how he felt… p-please—”
Ben’s grin was slow, feral, teeth catching the streetlight as it flashed through the rain.
“His hole…,” he started, voice dropped to a growl, “fuck, Jord, it was like velvet. It was so hot inside of him. Every time I pulled out it sucked me back in like it was starving for my cock. I could feel him fluttering around me, you know, clenching like he didn’t want to let me go.”
He twisted his wrist on the next stroke, perfect pressure, and Jordan’s hips jerked helplessly into it.
“His mouth, fuck, baby” Ben kept going, relentless, “ that soft little tongue of his swirling around my head like he was worshipping it. He took me so deep I felt his throat fucking squeeze, those pretty eyes he has begging to fuck his face harder. And when I kissed him…” A low, dark laugh rumbled out of Ben’s chest. “He tasted he tastes so good, he taste like, I don’t know, fucking desperation. His tongue sliding against mine, his little moans while I split him open, like getting ruined by my cock was the only thing he was ever born to do.”
Ben leaned closer, beard scratching Jordan’s jaw, voice dropping to a filthy whisper that vibrated straight into his bones.
“I could feel his heartbeat around my dick, baby. Every time I slammed home he’d cry out that wrecked little sound, and his hole would clamp down so tight I saw fucking stars. I’ve never been that deep in anyone, never felt anyone open up and just take it like they were made for me. Like his body knew who it belonged to the second I shoved in.”
Jordan’s moan was high, shattered, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the sheer overwhelming heat of it. Ben’s fist tightened, stroking faster now, merciless.
“That’s what heaven feels like, Jord,” he breathed against Jordan’s swollen lips. “Being buried balls-deep in a hole that was built to worship your cock.”
“You wanna do it again?” Jordan whispered, the words trembling out of him like a confession and a prayer..
“Fuck yeah, baby,” Ben growled against his mouth, breath ragged, fist still working Jordan slow and ruthless. “Again and again and again until there’s nothing left of me. Wanna take that slut home with us, chain him to the fucking bed and keep him as my personal fucktoy. Pound that greedy hole every day, all day, until he forgets his own name and only knows how to beg for my cock.”
The filthy promise slammed into Jordan like a fist. His spine arched hard, hips jerking helplessly into Ben’s grip, orgasm roaring up from his balls so fast it stole his breath.
“You want me to do that, Jord?” Ben rasped, voice dark. “Want me to bring him home and wreck him while you watch?”
“Y-yeah,” Jordan sobbed, the word breaking on a tear that slid hot down his cheek.
Ben leaned in instantly, mouth gentle, unbearably tender, kissing the salt from his skin like he was still the most precious thing in the world. The contrast of that soft, loving mouth against the brutal filth pouring out of it shattered Jordan completely. More tears spilled, ugly and unstoppable.
“Want you to fuck him forever, Benny,” he choked out. “Him and others. Anyone you want…”
“All you have to do is ask, baby,” Ben whispered, thumb sweeping another tear away even as his fist tightened, ruthless.
“P-please, Ben…” The plea cracked into a loud, desperate moan. “Oh god… please, Ben, please, fuck, God”
And then he came. It hit like a fist to the gut, sudden and violent. Jordan’s whole body seized, hips punching up off the seat, cock jerking in Ben’s grip as thick ropes of cum shot across his own stomach, splattering the inside of his open jeans, soaking Ben’s knuckles. Each pulse felt wrenched out of him, humiliating in its force, his vision whiting out while broken, wet sobs tore from his throat. He could feel it everywhere: the hot, sticky mess pooling in the crease of his thigh, dripping down Ben’s wrist, the obscene wet sound of Ben milking him through it, squeezing out every last drop like he was proving a point. He came picturing it: Ben’s monster cock buried in Ezra’s perfect hole, in stranger after stranger, while Jordan knelt in the corner leaking and crying and thanking him for it. The shame burned hotter than the pleasure, and the pleasure burned hotter because of the shame, until he couldn’t tell which one was choking him.
When it finally ebbed he was limp, trembling, face soaked with tears, cum cooling in shameful streaks across his skin. Ben’s hand still wrapped possessively around his spent cock, thumb rubbing slow circles through the mess like a promise. Jordan couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t speak. Could only shudder through the aftershocks while the truth settled sticky and irreversible between them:
He had just come harder than he ever had in his life begging his boyfriend to keep fucking other men, while the man he loved had kissed his tears and promised to make it happen.
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