Point Pleasant (72 page)

Ben shrugged as if to say he had never thought the same. “Anyway, if you really want to go up to New York, I can make it work.”

“I want to be wherever you are,” Nicholas replied.

Ben glanced over to Nicholas and then back to the interstate. “What are your thoughts on seeing the World’s Second Largest Garden Gnome?”

Six hours into the drive, and they were halfway to Boston, but it was well after eleven o’clock. Nicholas—concerned member of the police force that he was—thought it best that they find a motel. Ben agreed; he was exhausted, and, considering Nicholas’ early morning, he was sure the sheriff was too.

There had been decent music on the available radio stations and none of the unsettling broadcasts from backwoods snake handlers congregating over the greatness of Jesus Christ—
hallelujah!—
that tended to bleed into normal FM stations when driving through rural West Virginia.

Ben and Nicholas had played a ridiculously long session of
Have you ever?
throughout the first half of the drive before they stopped for dinner at a greasy spoon in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. They ordered waffles for dinner, much to Ben’s delight, and they did not speak of Andrew or the funeral. They talked about Ben’s books, instead.

“I think you and Daniel are the only people in the world who actually liked
Gray Area
,” Ben said and sipped his coffee.

“But it’s clever! And there are zombies. The way you approach the idea of losing your identity even though you’re still the same, just
different
… I really liked it.”

“You’re just saying that because you want in my pants again.”

“Been there, done that.”

“Well, if you’re bored with my pants already…” Ben said, crossing his arms.

Nicholas’ entire face lit up from the effect of his tender smile. “Oh, I like your pants just fine, Wisehart. But I really
did
like the book.” His sincerity was stirring, and Ben looked out the window to hide the slight blush he knew had crept across his cheeks.

He paid for their dinner and tossed Nicholas the keys. “You okay to drive for a while? Until the motel?”

“Sure,” Nicholas said and slid in behind the steering wheel.

“This is surreal,” Ben said, climbing into the passenger side.

“Is it?” Nicholas asked and cranked the engine.

“A week and a half ago, everything was different.”

Nicholas hummed in agreement as he drove them back out to the highway.

Ben reclined in his seat and found he really liked watching Nicholas drive.
It’s the focus he puts into it
, he realized.
Like the look he gets when he’s inside you.

“What?” Nicholas asked, noticing Ben’s gaze.

“Hmm?”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m just admiring the intensity you put into certain activities,” Ben replied. He caught Nicholas’ affectionate eye roll when a car’s headlights on the opposite side of the highway illuminated the sheriff’s face.

“You know,” Nicholas replied in a tone that was both pleasant and conversational. “As you just noted, it’s only been a week. You have no idea how deep my intensity runs.”

“Maybe I’ll find out.”

“Oh, you will. I’ll make sure of that.” Nicholas had a confident grin on his lips as he spoke.

Ben admired the other man’s profile and felt lighter than he had all day. “I love you.”

Nicholas spared a furtive glance over to Ben and turned back to the road ahead. His grin widened, and his hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I know this is an awful
day to be happy, but I am. I love you too, Ben.”

“Life goes on, I suppose,” Ben said as he peered out the front window. “You have to reach for the happy moments when you can.”

Nicholas seemed contemplative as they drove beneath an overpass. The Malibu’s headlights glimmered on the reflective green exit sign overhead.

“Is that what you were doing?” Nicholas asked.

“When?”

“That night. Your mom—” Nicholas started, but he trailed off. “I’m sorry, this is a bad subject.”

“It’s fine,” Ben replied. “Life’s short, Nic. That’s what I figured out. After my mom died, I mean. It’s so fucking short, we could die right now, or tomorrow, or whenever.”

Nicholas said nothing, but Ben knew he was listening intently.

“You were my happy moment back then. You still are. Of course I had to reach.” Ben fidgeted with his seatbelt as he spoke, and he brushed his hand against Nicholas’ jeans-covered thigh as if to emphasize the sentiment.

“I should have reached back,” Nicholas said.

“We’ve been over this,” Ben said with a sigh. “I’d really like it if you’d stop beating yourself up over it.”

Nicholas went silent again, and Ben was surprised when he finally spoke. “I don’t know how to be happy,” he said. “It’s been a while. It feels like a new concept. I still need to adjust, I guess.”

The melancholy in his tone caused Ben to straighten, but he kept his hand in place. Nicholas steered onto an off-ramp. There was a motel listed on the highway signboard.

“Do you have any idea how many motels I’ve been in? The esteemed sheriff of Mason County, in and out within half an hour,” Nicholas said, snickering with derision. “How many women have gone to their knees for me, how many of them I closed my eyes on and tried to imagine what it would be like with you and not just some stranger from a bar in Putnam County?”

“Nic,” Ben whispered as Nicholas pulled the Malibu into the motel’s parking lot. “It’s me now.”

Nicholas killed the engine and faced Ben with a somber countenance. “I just don’t want to fuck this up,” he said. “I know I almost did before.”

“
We
,” Ben interjected. “
We
almost fucked it up. Together.”

The red neon sign over the building flashed the word ‘Vacancy,’ and the office lights flickered a dim, hazy yellow. There was a single figure behind the desk, but Ben could not be bothered to look closer. Nicholas stared off at the highway and seemed to be preoccupied with some morose meditation.

“You know what I love about driving at night?” Ben asked suddenly.

Nicholas continued to look forward, but he shook his head. “The quiet?”

“Not exactly,” Ben said. “The stars. Sometimes in Boston, you can’t see them at all. You have to drive pretty far to get out of the light pollution of the city.”

Nicholas said nothing.

“My point, though,” Ben continued, “is that sometimes, you have to go further into the dark. There’s no way around it. Not if you really want to see the stars.”

“You’re better with words than me.”

“Then listen, Sheriff,” Ben said as he slid closer to Nicholas’ seat. “Why don’t you go get us a room? And we can go find the stars. Together.”

“I like this analogy,” Nicholas said.

Ben winked and watched as Nicholas got out of the car and strode across the parking lot. He kept his eyes on the sheriff, though his thoughts wandered to the scattered pieces of information he had gleaned about Nicholas’ life in Point Pleasant over the last thirteen years.

Ben had his share of shitty experiences outside of the town, but he was starting to realize how much worse their separation had been for Nicholas. Ben had been rejected; he had his closure and could
try
to move on. He could try to
forget
. He could lose himself in the arms of whatever man or woman he desired for a night and not feel guilty about it because they
accepted
him even if only for a few hours. These flings had cleaned out his wounds like the step before applying a bandage to a scab that he would never stop picking, but they never made him hate himself.

Nicholas, however, had been the rejector. He had apparently spent so long hating himself for what he considered a life-altering transgression that even his sexual history was tied up in his personal castigation.

The more Ben considered their situation, the more he understood why Nicholas seemed so uneasy with the general idea of Ben’s previous partners. Nicholas was not so much jealous of
them
as he was mournful of the idea that if he had reacted differently to Ben’s declaration, Ben might never have been with anyone else, and Nicholas himself might never have gone to dives in Putnam County for motel quickies and lessons in the art of self-loathing. He might have been with Ben for the last thirteen years, happy and free of a lingering despair that clung to him like stale tobacco smoke on an old leather chair.

Ben had his own problems, of course. He bounced in between Ben Wisehart and Preston James so often that sometimes he had no idea who was at the core. Ben Wisehart was cocky, but that cockiness was an elaborate ruse to conceal the fact that he had very little self worth.
And Preston James, well, isn’t he just the bee’s knees.
The cool, clever horror writer who used fear as the conduit for his musings on life and death and everything in between; the asshole with the suit and queue of fans who eased his other personality’s general sense of personal repugnance.

Ben and Nicholas were both fucked up—each in their own ways—but there was little to be done about thirteen years of shitty relationships and desperate sexual encounters except to try to forget them.
Together
.

As Nicholas exited the office and returned to the Malibu, Ben wondered if they could fuck the lingering sadness out of each other. He got out and grabbed their bags from the trunk. Nicholas dangled a room key from his fingers when he approached.

“You’ll love this,” he said as he took one of the bags from Ben. “Room thirteen.”

“Appropriate,” Ben said with a wry smile.

A cloud of moths fluttered around the light outside the door, beating their wings against the burning bulb. Nicholas unlocked the door and held it open for Ben. The room was spotless and large enough for the night. It smelled of a recent cleaning—all lemon-fresh but unobtrusive. The large bed was made with its covers tucked tight underneath the mattress.

“Works for me,” Ben said.

Nicholas nodded and tossed his bag on the table by the window after he secured the door.

Ben dropped his bag at the foot of the bed. Nicholas observed him with a curious expression. Ben stepped forward and pulled him into a kiss. Their lips danced for dominance, but Ben was insistent, and Nicholas relented. They kicked off their shoes, jeans, and boxers in a desperate jumble of limbs and fabric before they peeled one another’s shirts from their bodies.

Nicholas pulled Ben close, but Ben took hold of Nicholas’ shoulders and pushed him backwards so that he fell onto the bed.

“You’re eager,” Nicholas said when Ben crawled over him.

Ben silenced Nicholas with another kiss. He leaned back to speak, though his lips were still close enough to move against Nicholas’. “I’m motivated.”

“Ben,” Nicholas murmured when Ben’s palm slid across Nicholas’ skin to follow the line of dark hair that led from his navel.

“Nic,” Ben whispered, trailing his lips over the coarse stubble that covered Nicholas’ jaw. He latched his teeth onto the delicate skin of Nicholas’ neck, just under his left ear, and gently bit down.

Nicholas sighed, and his hips jerked upward. His hardening cock prodded at Ben’s thigh. Ben sucked again and pursed his lips to blow warm air over the start of a small bruise. Nicholas tangled his fingers in Ben’s hair.

Ben took Nicholas’ hand in his and kissed the curve of his wrist before he placed it on the pillow by Nicholas’ head. “Just lie back. It’s me here, now.”

A needy, anxious moan rose from Nicholas’ throat when Ben swiped his tongue over Nicholas’ right nipple. He traced the outline of it with the tip of his tongue. Nicholas drew in a deep breath, which caused his ribcage to jut out and the muscles of his abdomen to tremble. Ben closed his lips and swirled his tongue over the hardened point.

Nicholas dug his fingers into the bedspread while Ben showered the other nub with the same gentle attention.

Ben worked his way down Nicholas’ firm torso, licking and nipping at the skin around his navel as he went. Nicholas held his breath. His heavy cock bobbed and twitched prominently as it rested against his stomach. Ben slipped off the bed, kneeled, and settled between Nicholas’ thighs.

His fingertips danced along the sharp outlines of Nicholas’ hipbones. They rose imperceptibly as Ben followed the sharp V-formation of Nicholas’ build with his lips.

“Watch, Nic,” Ben whispered, taking hold of Nicholas’ hard cock. “I want you to watch.”

A red flush appeared on Nicholas’ cheeks as Ben stroked from base to tip with slow deliberation.

Ben maintained eye contact and held the length upright. He whirled his tongue around its head, moving clockwise first, then counterclockwise. Nicholas gave a gentle shove upward, and Ben licked from the root to the tip, repeating the action several times until the length glistened with his spit.

Nicholas had not broken their gaze, but his chest rose and fell with hard, sharp intakes of breath each time Ben’s tongue circled the head of his cock—especially the underside. Ben paid special attention to the area when he noticed its obvious sensitivity, and he smirked at the strangled groan that escaped from Nicholas’ throat.

His fingers closed around the base of Nicholas’ shaft and moved up and down in a dawdling, languid rhythm while he pressed a firm kiss to the tip and let out a warm, heavy sigh against the flesh.

Nicholas faltered finally, and his dark eyelashes threatened to shut when he seemed to sense what would come next.

“
Watch
,” Ben reminded.

“Fuck,” Nicholas whispered, and his eyes were wide open once more.

Ben took the head into his mouth. He sucked hard and swirled his tongue in a circular pattern to dwell on the newly discovered sensitive area as his lips engulfed more and more of the hard length.

Nicholas leaned up on his elbows. His breathing was frantic as he braced a hand to the back of Ben’s head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Ben worked his way down until he managed to swallow the entire length of Nicholas’ shaft in one slow, measured movement. Nicholas fingers splayed out through Ben’s hair, and he let out a moan. His other hand gripped at the bedspread beneath him so fiercely that Ben thought he might tear the fabric.