The morning after his first time getting and giving a blowjob with another man was sort of disappointing, but not for the reasons he expected. Ben woke up alone. He got up and showered, dressed in his clothes from the night before, expecting to see Dean when he was finished, but the apartment was empty.
He'd thought that he'd feel weird about everything in the light of morning, but somehow it felt right, being with Dean. It was all so new and fresh that it made him feel young again, his heart beating excitedly when he remembered the night before.
After a quick search, partially fueled by voyeurism into Dean's life, he discovered a note taped to the door. 'Went for a run. Your phone is on charger in kitchen, I put my phone # in there. You really should set a lock screen.' It wasn't signed.
He found his phone, fully charged, and pulled it from the plug. He had four missed calls and fifteen text messages. Two from Justin asking him where he went. The other thirteen were from Hugh, the first two asking him where he was, the next five describing how much of a motherfucker he was, then the last six were just random emojis.
He texted Justin back letting him know he'd left, and he was fine. It was early, only seven fifteen, so he figured Justin would still be asleep and didn't wait for a return text before pocketing his phone. He waited for a few minutes for Dean to return, but each minute without Dean there made him antsy.
He left. The sun wasn't up yet, though it was light enough to see. The air was crisp and cool, and he warmed up quickly as he started his walk home. He could have waited for Dean to get back, but he wanted to think, and it wasn't that far of a walk, only a few miles.
His junk ached from last night. It had taken almost half an hour for his raging boner to calm down, and now the whole area, especially his balls, felt sore and too-tight. He shifted himself in his pants, the memory of Dean sucking his dick, of Dean's taste on his tongue reigniting his lust.
Surprisingly, the thing his tired mind kept coming back to the most was the feel of Dean sleeping next to him. Dean seemed hyper-aware of where Ben was, and avoided even the most accidental of brushes, but he'd still let Ben sleep in bed with him.
Ben was feeling good by the time he got home, and spent most of the day revisiting the night before. Was he gay now? He wasn't sure, but the thought didn't upset him like he thought it would've. He texted Dean to let him know he'd gotten home, and thanked him again for picking him up, then followed it up with a winky-eyed emoji.
He was in the middle of laundry when his memories of the night before made him unable to focus on anything else. His loins ached as his manhood filled, and his laundry was easily forgotten. He went to his darkened room and laid down on the bed, his cock in his hand before his head hit the pillow.
He thought about Dean, about how commanding he'd been, but also how considerate. Remembered the taste of his cum and how it coated his mouth, and the feel of his perky little nipples between his lips. He shot off way too soon, his cum bursting from him like champagne. The fluid seemed thicker than normal, and smelled sort of bleachy.
He touched it, picking some up on his fingers and thought about tasting it, but the thought was revolting. As he cleaned himself up he thought about Dean's cum and swallowed hard, nervous and excited. Should that bother him?
Shrugging it off, he went back to work. Justin called him a little after four.
"Hey, asshole, where'd you go last night," Justin asked as way of greeting.
"To your mom's house," he replied, the response automatic.
"My mom would chew you up and spit you out. No, seriously, where'd you go?"
He rested the phone between his head and his shoulder, then gave up as it slipped and put it on the counter and turned the speaker on. He returned to meal prep for the week. "I wasn't feeling it last night. I got a ride. The music was too loud, and the strippers were just okay." He hadn't lied. Yet.
"Why didn't you just get us to move to another place? You ditched us," Justin whined.
Ben shrugged, chopping cauliflower from the head. "I dunno. Wasn't feeling it last night. I just wanted to leave. Also, Hugh was being milked dry by the stripper who looked kinda like Phoebe from Friends. He wouldn't've left."
Justin exhaled over the line. "Yeah, you're right. Are you feeling better, at least? You've been so weird lately."
"Oh, I'm great," he said, absolutely feeling it.
"Did last night really make you feel that much better?" Justin asked.
Ben snorted. "Yes, Justin, it really did." He thought of Dean, and wondered what he was doing.
"Oh. Well, that's good, then. Yeah, so, I just wanted to make sure shit was good. Like I said, you've been weird lately."
"Weird can be good," he said, still thinking of Dean.
"Not that kinda weird. Anyway, I'm going to Angela's parents for dinner, so yee-haw, hopefully I survive. If I don't show up for work call the cavalry, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," he said. "I'm sure you'll be fine."
"You really do sound better," Justin mused. "I missed ya."
"You're a butt," Ben said. "Talk to you later."
He checked for a text from Dean, but other than a notification that it had been read, there was nothing new. He frowned, then went back to kitchen prep. Halfway through his mind wandered back to Dean sucking him off, which had him cleaning up and returning to his bedroom for a second time that day.
His dick was sore, but also hard and needy, so he couldn't ignore it. He closed his eyes, thinking about Dean. The thought of him over Dean's lap, heavy handed smacks landing evenly on his ass was hot, and brought him close, but not close enough. He'd already come once, so he needed more to get off a second time. He pictured Dean in his head, Ben on his hands and knees in front of him, those thin, cold fingers pushing his head down onto his long sword.
"You're such a freak, DeLuca," fantasy Dean told him, thrusting his hips into Ben's mouth. "Do you want my cum?"
"Yes," he moaned aloud, his hips bucking up off the bed as he came. This one felt better than the earlier one, but nothing compared to how it felt to come in Dean's mouth. After his orgasmic daze passed he sat up, then checked his phone again. Still nothing from Dean.
He decided to text again, perhaps Dean had been busy. Hey. Just wanted to check in. Thanks again for last night.
He watched it send, then watched as the 'read' notification appeared under it. He waited for a response, but nothing came. A few hours later he checked again, and still nothing. Frowning, he decided to call, feeling the need to hear Dean's voice.
