On Point (Out of Uniform 3)

And Maddox wasn’t kidding himself—he’d known where asking Ben to come lie down in here with him was headed—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t more than a little nervous.

“Hey, this is just more experiments.” Ben tossed his pillows and the ice packs on the bed. Even with the crutches, Maddox had still managed to make the bed that morning, and Ben’s things looked distinctly weird on his blue tapestry comforter. “See? Not even taking off my clothes. And I already know which is your side of the bed.”

Arranging the ice packs, Ben stretched out on the side of the bed that Maddox still thought of as Curt’s but now would be forever associated with Ben’s bulky frame lounging as if this were as normal as doing dishes together.

“Come on now,” Ben cajoled. “Promise not to bite unless you ask nicely.”

Maddox lowered himself to the edge of the bed, groaning a little at the relief of getting off the crutches. Balancing on one leg was way harder than it looked, and his good leg ached every bit as much as the healing limb inside the black cast. Following Ben’s lead, he arranged his many pillows in the way that best supported his injuries, getting two behind his head and another couple under the leg. “God, we really are old men.”

“Speak for yourself.” Ben thumped him lightly on the arm, scooting closer. “Now come here. Science awaits.”

“Science, huh?” Maddox laughed despite himself. Science had very little to do with that almost nuclear-level explosion of passion in the kitchen, but then so did the divine—some things just defied explanation. Like how he and Ben fit so well together. Like how Ben kissed him like they’d been doing it for years and also like it was Maddox’s first kiss ever. And good lord, the man could teach a graduate-level chemistry class in how to ignite a spark—Maddox hadn’t been that turned on from just kissing since Grayson in the barn at seventeen.

“Gotta see if the first time was a fluke.” Ben pulled him closer. And Maddox already knew it wasn’t, but he went willingly, sighing as their lips met. He’d thought about kissing Ben before—so many thoughts littering the last twelve years, some dirty, many sweet—but he hadn’t been prepared for how all-consuming this would be. He liked kissing. It was fun and felt good and with the right person, it could make him feel happy emotions and want closeness and lead to pleasant places like sex, but he didn’t need kissing. Except with Ben he totally did. He needed the rasp of Ben’s lips, his little inhale, the way he licked so sweetly at Maddox’s mouth.

Ben was playful in a way he hadn’t expected, and it made Maddox smile, same as he had in the kitchen. Couldn’t help it. This was fun, something he totally should have anticipated but hadn’t. He’d always thought it would be almost painful—so much wanting and longing and unexpressed feelings clouding what should be pleasurable. But he hadn’t accounted for how his pulse would race and adrenaline jangle and how damn turned-on it would make him.

Ben leisurely licked his way into Maddox’s mouth, slow, limb-melting kisses that got deeper without being insistent. Maddox’d always figured Ben would be very...goal oriented so to speak, but the reality was anything but. Ben kissed like learning Maddox’s mouth was the most important mission he’d ever undertake and like he had all the time in the world to complete it.

He tasted like hope—a potent cocktail full of twelve years of wanting something Maddox had known he couldn’t ever have and needing it desperately all the same. It was intoxicating and twice as judgment-clouding as Percocet. Ben said he wanted more than this, that he wanted to date, and Maddox was going to trust him, at least for tonight.

Unbidden, his hands snuck under Ben’s shirt. His skin was warm, ab muscles rippling as Maddox explored. He’d always liked a fuzzy chest, and he was sure glad Ben was over that waxing kick he’d been on for a few years there. The hair crinkled against Maddox’s palm, sent shivers down his spine as they continued to kiss.

Fingers skating close to the worst of Maddox’s head wounds above his ear, Ben asked, “Does it still hurt?”

“Not when you kiss me like that,” Maddox said lightly, when in truth he was still coming to terms with the jagged scar he was likely to have. The skin was still red and puckered and hardly dream date material. “Does it make my mug too ugly?”

He meant the words as a tease, but Ben’s eyes went dark and serious. “Never. You turn me on like crazy.”

“I do?” Maddox wasn’t one for fishing for compliments, but this was the first he’d had an inkling that he had an effect on Ben, after years and years of keeping his own reactions tightly hidden.