The Square Peg (30 page)

It didn’t matter. He had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping out an order for

Shane to get dressed again.

“Ever had a piercing before?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Jasper stepped closer, squinting at Shane’s nipples. “Which one? Or

both?”

Shane tapped his right nipple without speaking.

“Not inverted. Should be okay with a CBR…yeah, okay,” Jasper murmured to

himself. “Sit down.”

Shane got into the chair and curled his fingers around the armrest, his knuckles

gleaming white for a moment before he relaxed his grip. To Ben, Shane didn’t look any

less tense after his death grip had slackened. God, was this a good idea?

Jasper drew a table on wheeled legs over to the stool he was sitting on. “Let’s get

the paperwork done. You’ll need to sign a consent form, and I need to tell you about the

risks and get your medical history.”

The next few minutes passed by in a blur for Ben, though he tried to pay attention

to the guidelines about aftercare and cleaning, guessing Shane would be too strung out

to retain them. The permission forms signed and the ring brought in, Jasper snapped on

some gloves and cleaned Shane’s nipple with antibacterial soap on a piece of gauze. The

attention to cleanliness was reassuring to Ben, but Shane’s face was still paler than he

liked.

“Okay, now I need to mark where it’s going to go. Stand up.”

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Shane stood, swaying slightly, his mouth set in a line. Ben couldn’t catch his

breath. The windowless room felt hot, airless, and his ears were buzzing. There was a

wooden chair by the wall, and he sat in it, dropping his head between his knees for a

moment.

“You okay?” Shane asked, concern sharpening his voice.

Ben sat up and pasted on a confident smile. “Of course.”

Jasper was playing with Shane’s nipple, frowning as he decided where to make

the marks. Again, Ben felt that wave of annoyance, grateful for it because it cleared his

head. The marks made, Shane sat again with a thud, as if he were glad to be off his feet.

“Let’s get you on your back for the piercing,” Jasper said. He pressed a lever on

the side of the chair, tilting it so that Shane was reclined. “Good. Now for the forceps.

This is gonna hurt a bit, but I need to line up the marks, okay?”

The clamp went on, and Shane moaned, a small sound, more arousal than pain,

and Ben’s control shattered. That whimpered, throat-caught moan was one he’d heard

before—one he’d caused—and it felt wrong for anyone else to have heard or caused it.

“No,” he blurted, speaking before he’d realized he was going to. “Wait.”

“What?” Shane asked. He hadn’t moved but was looking at Ben intently.

“I changed my mind.” Ben said it quietly, then a little more loudly to Jasper. “We

changed our minds.”

Shane cleared his throat. “Um…we did?”

“Sounds as if you two might need a minute to talk about this,” Jasper said. “I’ll be

right back. Don’t touch anything.” He left, swinging the door most of the way closed

but not latching it.

Standing, Ben moved closer to Shane and laid a hand on him just under his

clamped nipple. “I can’t… I don’t want him touching you. Not like this. I didn’t think

about what this part would be like. I don’t…”

“Hey, no. It’s all right.” Shane’s warm hand covered his. “Whatever you want.”

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“I don’t want anyone putting marks on you but me,” Ben whispered, and Shane

nodded.

“Best take this off then,” he said, gesturing at his nipple. “Care to do the honors?”

Ben hesitantly, carefully unclamped Shane’s nipple, then rubbed it when Shane

winced. Seeing Shane hurt from something like this…Ben didn’t get any pleasure from

it. It was completely different from what they did together. “It isn’t the same,” he said.

That wasn’t a clear enough statement to make sense, but Shane seemed to

understand it anyway. He didn’t have a chance to say anything before Jasper knocked

and came in. “Okay, so what’s the deal?”

“Not today,” Shane said firmly. “Sorry.”

Ben had already taken out his wallet. He’d intended to pay for the piercing since it

was his idea in the first place, and he was just as happy to pay now to keep on good

terms with a man who might send friends to the bar or mention something to Vin. He

handed Jasper some cash. “If we change our minds—again—we’ll come back.”

“Thanks.” Jasper slid the money into his pocket as if he’d expected it.

Maybe people did this all the time, changing their minds, chickening out—or just

to get a kick out of it, playing with the idea but never quite committing. “Want to take

the ring with you?” Jasper asked. “You paid for it, after all.”

“Yeah,” Shane said, scooping it up. “I do. And no, I won’t try to do this at home.”

Jasper chuckled, rolling his eyes. “People do. They’re fucking nuts, but they do.”

He nodded at Ben. “Just realized where I know you two from. Friends of Vin, right?

You own that gay bar where he works. I saw you in the paper today.”

“We do,” Ben said, ignoring the reference to the article. “In fact, we just renovated

the place. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, your first drink’s on us.”

“Might take you up on that.”

With another nod, he walked out, leaving Ben to give Shane a helpless shrug. “I’m

sorry. Really sorry.”

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“Shut the fuck up.” Shane came closer, pressing up against him, kissing Ben with

enough passion behind it that Ben felt an urgent need to get them somewhere private.

Shane was never passive, but right then he was avid, demanding, his tongue sliding

deep into Ben’s mouth, his teeth dragging over Ben’s lower lip when the kiss ended.

Shane drew back, his face showing some color now, his eyes gleaming. “Want you.”

“I kind of got that.” Ben was halfway to hard just from the kiss, his hands warm

from touching Shane’s bare back. “Vin’s working, so my place is empty.”

“I’m empty,” Shane said, still so close, his hands gripping Ben’s shoulders as

tightly as they’d held the arms of the chair. He winked. “Gonna fill me up, Benedict?”

“Jesus, just get dressed, and let’s go before I do it here.”

Shane took his time shrugging into his T-shirt and jacket, throwing Ben a couple of

sidelong glances as if to make sure Ben was watching him.

In fifteen minutes—Ben didn’t speed when he was driving, even with Shane’s

hand on his thigh—they were in Ben’s bedroom. “Not gonna fuck you,” he said against

Shane’s lower lip. “Not tonight.”

Shane whined and ground his cock against Ben’s hand, which was shoved inside

the front of his unfastened jeans. “Why the hell not?”

Ben reached around with the other hand and slapped Shane’s ass, only hard

enough to sting because Shane hadn’t completely recovered from the other night. He

could sit without wincing, at least, but his skin was still faintly bruised. “Saving it.”

“I’m fine,” Shane said.

“That’s not why.” Ben pushed Shane’s jeans over the curve of his ass and let

gravity take them as much as it would.

“Then what?”

“Because the first time I fuck you,” Ben said between kisses, “without a condom, I

don’t want to hold back.”

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Shane took a step backward, and they fell down onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.

“You wouldn’t have to now.”

“Stop arguing,” Ben told him. He pushed Shane’s underwear to somewhere

around his knees and licked his erection before taking the head of it into his mouth.

God, Shane tasted good, and felt good; he even sounded good, moaning and swearing

as Ben teased him.

Shane struggled, probably trying to kick off his shorts and give Ben full access, but

Ben chose to take it as an attempt to break free. He took the loose skin of Shane’s balls

between his thumb and finger and pinched it sharply. “Stay still.”

Shane yelped. “That fucking hurts!”

“Does it?” Ben did it again, a slow, relentless squeeze of the small piece of flesh,

knowing just how intense the pain would be. “Your piercing would’ve hurt more.”

“Stop it. Please.” Shane was holding still—he didn’t have much choice—but his

hands were fisted in the sheets, and his body was rigid.

“No.” Ben bent and lapped at the head of Shane’s cock, wet with more than saliva,

and kept up the pressure. “I’m going to leave you with bruises all over you tonight. My

marks. This is the first.”

“God, yes.” Shane was panting now, hoarse gasps, his chest heaving. “Hurts.”

“Mm. Good.” Ben took Shane’s cock in deep, enjoying himself. After another ten

seconds or so, he opened his thumb and finger and rode out the involuntary jerk of

Shane’s hips that drove Shane’s cock deeper into Ben’s throat. Ben came close to

choking, but he didn’t mind. Shane was making those sounds again, sexy, pleading,

unbearably arousing sounds, but this time they were all his.

Just like Shane.

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Chapter Sixteen

Shane adjusted the collar of his shirt self-consciously as he and Benedict went into

the Square Peg. They’d managed to snag a prime parking space right out front when

someone else had pulled out, which was a piece of luck. The bar was moderately

crowded for a weeknight, a definite improvement on what it would’ve been like before.

One table of guys near the bar seemed more than a bit raucous, but they weren’t

causing any trouble.

“Loud,” Benedict commented, then as Shane adjusted his collar again, “Stop. No

one can see anything, and if you keep doing that, they’re going to start wondering

why.”

He was right, Shane knew, but he could still feel the sting of the eighteen marks

Benedict had left on him. Benedict had made him count each one as it was made, from

the mouth-sized bruise under his right nipple to the three on his inner thighs. By the

time Benedict had finally let him come, he’d been sobbing with need and grateful for

every mark.

Each bruise was hidden by his clothes, though. Shane knew it was true, even if he

felt rather on display as they crossed the floor to the bar.

“Hey, there you are,” Vincent said, grinning as he took cash from a customer and

made change. “I was starting to think you got lost.”

Shane wasn’t about to justify that with an answer. “How’ve things been?”

“Pretty busy. They’re keeping us hopping.”

Shelly was pulling pints and chatting up the customers. She did have a way with

them, a natural sort of bartender quality that meant she’d always have a job no matter

where she went.

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“I think we’ve got some new regulars,” Vincent continued, gesturing at the table

of loud young men.

“Weren’t they in here last week?” Benedict asked, and Vincent nodded.

“Don’t worry—I carded everyone, and they’ve got a designated driver. I think the

skinny guy is kind of trashed. Shelly found him in the back hallway near the door to the

alley. He was looking for the bathroom.”

Shane grimaced. “Keep an eye on him, yeah?”

“I will.” Vincent was doing half a dozen things at once as usual, and Shane

thought he was lucky as hell to have the small group of loyal employees he’d somehow

managed to amass.

He was still getting used to the place being full in the middle of the week, still

marveling at how much money they were making. It would take a while to offset the

cost of the renovations—and for Shane to repay Benedict—but if things kept on like

this…

Surreptitiously, Shane looked around for a piece of wood to rap, settling for the

leg of one of the tall stools at the bar.

It was his night off, so he didn’t have to stay in the bar. Still, he couldn’t think of

anywhere else he’d rather be—unless it was back in bed with Benedict. Trying to keep

his gaze unobtrusive, he glanced over at Benedict, who was arguing with Shelly over

the proportion of vodka to vermouth in a vodka martini. His money was on Shelly, who

prided herself on her cocktails. She sometimes invented her own, most of them strong

enough to make Shane’s throat go numb after a few swallows.

Benedict’s face was animated, his hair ruffled from the kiss they’d shared before

getting out of the car. Shane felt a yearning ache, poignant enough to make him unable

to look away. It wasn’t based wholly in desire—though he couldn’t look at Benedict and

not want him—but something bigger.

God, I’m in love with him.

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The thought should have terrified Shane—you loved someone, and in his

experience you were opening yourself up for a world of hurt—but it didn’t. Not loving

Benedict, losing this feeling, was far scarier.

He probed the revelation as he would a tooth that’d been filled, its shape rendered

unfamiliar, the edges still rough. He knew they’d gone from strangers to lovers with

relative ease, and he trusted Benedict not to two-time him with nothing to base that