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No Other Life than This Ch. 01

By: podga



Not for the first time, Benny wondered what idiot had come up with the saying about being stuck with family, but being able to choose one's friends. Not only did it falsely imply that one wasn't stuck with one's friends, but that one had thoughtfully chosen them, rather than haphazardly picked them up along the way. Maybe even -- and this was the worst aspect, in Benny's opinion -- that one would be held accountable for those non-choices; St. Peter would pull out the ledger, run his gnarled old finger down the long list of people Benny had known in his almost five decades, his frown growing, and then point poor Benny downstairs.

But surely St. Peter couldn't blame Benny for Roger. There were photos of Roger and Benny sharing the same crib and sitting in the same sandbox. If he looked closely enough in the mirror, Benny could still see the scar over his left brow, where Roger had hit him with a toy truck when they were both four. And if only his mother had taken that golden opportunity to tell Roger's mother that their two sons would never be allowed to play together again, Roger might not have been sitting in Benny's living room, trying to convince Benny to be his best man. Something Benny would have been happy to do, if only he hadn't filled the exact same role in Roger's previous two marriages. And not only was Roger not listening to reason, he was actually laying a guilt trip on Benny for trying to refuse the dubious honor.

"I can't write another speech, man. I've run out of ideas," Benny whined, as he also tried to keep an eye on the TV, where the Yankees were playing. Had he known Roger would ambush him with a ridiculous request, he'd have never invited him over to watch the game.

"Just deliver the same one as last time," Roger said. "There wasn't a dry eye in the house when you were done. Carrie wasn't there to hear it, so she won't know."

"The one about how the day you met Chrissy, you called to tell me that you'd finally found your soul mate and your one true love? That ought to go over real well." 

It was true that Roger had called Benny and used those exact words; it was also true that, at the time, he had been three sheets to the wind, freshly divorced, and apt, therefore, to overvalue Chrissy's place in his heart and soul. The marriage had lasted five years, about the same length of time as Roger's first marriage to Pam, incidentally also his soul mate and one true love.

Roger leaned over to grab the bag of Cheez Doodles out of Benny's hands and crunched thoughtfully for a couple of minutes. "Well, you'd obviously need to change 'Chrissy' to 'Carrie'."

They stared at each other wordlessly for a couple of seconds. Roger cracked first, his round face alight with amusement, and Benny rolled his eyes. The problem was that he liked Carrie; she was a smart and attractive woman, with a wide variety of interests and a sharp wit. More importantly, she seemed to have Roger's number. This was the marriage that might actually last, and Benny couldn't help thinking that it would be nice to be connected in a semi-official capacity to the success, and not just the two failures leading up to it. 

"Does Carrie know you're asking me?"

Roger nodded, but he didn't meet Benny's eyes. It could have been simply because of the action on the wide screen TV that took up half of Benny's living room wall, but Benny had known Roger way too long. 

"Okay, so she knows. Does she also know I was your best man the last two times?"

"Yes, she fucking knows. Jesus, Benny! You don't think I consulted her before asking you?"

"You don't really want me to answer that, do you? And gimme my Cheez Doodles back."

"You're not supposed to be eating these," Roger said, stuffing more into his own mouth and holding the bag out of Benny's reach. "You just got out of the hospital."

Benny scowled. He hated being reminded that he was convalescing. And from a bleeding ulcer, no less, which he regarded as a personal affront. He was in good shape, ate well, Cheez Doodles and other junk food addiction notwithstanding, didn't smoke, even meditated sometimes. That ulcer had had no business stopping at his door. 

"What color is the wedding?" he asked resignedly, unable to believe that he was beginning to consider Roger's request. If Roger said something like canary or pastel blue, he was definitely out. The rented green tux he'd been forced to wear at Roger and Pam's wedding had made him look like a tall Italian leprechaun; Phil had given him shit about it for over ten years. Benny rubbed his chest, as if the sharp pain he felt whenever a memory of Phil snuck up on him could somehow be soothed away.

"Black tux for us boys," Roger beamed happily, foreseeing Benny's imminent capitulation.

"Aw, fuck," Benny sighed. "What the hell, I'll do it. So long as you've explained the whole situation to Carrie and she's okay with it."

"Yes, Benjamin, I do solemnly swear that I've explained the whole situation to Carrie and she's okay with it, so help me God" Roger intoned solemnly, raising his right hand.

"I can bring a guest, right?"

Roger dragged his eyes from the screen. "A guest?" he asked suspiciously. "You mean like a date? Who?"

"Jordie will probably be in town around that time."

Roger's lips thinned. "I guess," he said, his reluctance obvious. "Benny—"

"Stuff it, Roger, okay? I don't want to hear it for the zillionth time." For some unfathomable reason, Roger had hated Jordie at first sight, and thirty years later still didn't much like him, no matter how much Jordie had changed.

"The thing is, Carrie has somebody in mind for you to meet."

Benny was vigorously shaking his head before Roger had even finished speaking.

"No way. No fucking way. No!"

"Come on, what have you got to lose? He's coming to the wedding, and there'll be other people around, so if it starts to look like things aren't working out between you, you won't be stuck with each other."

"Who is he? No, wait, don't tell me. I don't want to know. I don't care."

"Carrie's brother," Roger said, ignoring Benny's request. "I've spoken to him on the phone a couple of times. He sounds like a great guy. I'm sure you'll love him."

Benny gritted his teeth to stop the five-year-old inside him from retorting that he wasn't going to love Carrie's brother, and that Roger couldn't make him. It also wouldn't do any good to remind Roger of all the other times he'd been wrong about whom Benny would love, because Roger would simply blame Benny for being too picky and an asshole, just like he always did. Benny resolved to bring Jordie to the wedding, if he had to drag him there.

"Why can't people just leave me alone?"

"Because, Greta, we care about you and we don't want you to die a bitter, twisted and lonely old man."

"Well, if you care about me, just let me move in with Carrie and you when the time comes. All three of us can retire, move down to Palm Beach together, and live happily ever after in one of those assisted living communities."

"Oh, Jesus God! I'm finding you someone, if it's the last thing I do," Roger mumbled, clearly appalled at Benny's suggestion, and nervously stuffing more Cheez Doodles into his mouth. "Foul ball! Foul ball, you idiot, what the hell are you running for?" he was yelling at the TV a second later, and Benny thankfully let the conversation drop.

After Roger left, Benny slowly prepared for bed. Even the minimal effort of taking a shower and brushing his teeth left him shaky and exhausted. He braced his hands against the counter, staring at his reflection and hating the grooves that had carved themselves into his forehead almost overnight and the sharpness of his collar bones. Even his skin seemed wrong, gray and loose. Fuck, he looked awful. Worse, he looked decrepit.

More than anything, Benny despised being perceived as weak, be it mentally, emotionally or physically. He'd never been the smartest, or the fastest, but sheer force of will and discipline had always gotten him what he wanted in life. He'd thrived in the New York of the eighties and nineties, with its work hard and play harder attitude. He hadn't slowed down after meeting Phil on Fire Island Memorial Day weekend of 1990, and when he'd lost Phil thirteen years later, he'd gone into hyper drive, worried that otherwise he might curl up and die. And now, he couldn't even take a fucking shower and shampoo his hair without having to lean against the wall.

He slowly straightened up, stretching his back and squaring his shoulders. He'd get over this. He had five weeks until Roger's wedding. Time enough to gain back the weight he'd lost so that he could fit into his tux and stop looking like death warmed over.

"I'll be fine," he assured his reflection, and nodded firmly. "I'll be just fine."

*******************

Three weeks later Benny had to admit to himself that it was entirely possible that he wouldn't be fine. At the very least, he'd be forced to get his tux altered, because at this pace, there was no way it was going to fit right. He was getting better, but the process was too slow for his liking; he still couldn't go to the gym or run in Central Park, still couldn't put in much more than the minimum hours at work, and by ten at night he was reeling with exhaustion, good for nothing but bed.

Plus, the one time in his life that he'd absolutely counted on Jordie, fucking Jordie wasn't going to come through for him. Every September Jordie would come to New York for a week-long company meeting, and every time they'd spend a few days together. It was almost like they were students again, only better, because in his late forties Benny no longer had to wonder or worry about what his future might bear. He'd had the big questions in life answered, and he knew he was luckier than most in that respect.

But that didn't mean that the small questions didn't still bug him; like whom he might bring to Roger's rehearsal dinner and wedding, now that Jordie had told him that he'd be tied up with some project and wouldn't have much spare time. Roger might not like Jordie, but at least he took him seriously as a man, who held a firm position in Benny's heart and possibly even his future. If Benny showed up with anybody else, Roger would believe he was only facing a small impediment and not a real obstacle in his efforts to pair Benny off.

Even in retrospect, Benny could never quite figure out how the two most important people in his life had come to attain that position; he'd certainly never imagined what they would eventually mean to him when he'd first run into them. Funnily enough, the first meetings with Jordie and Phil had both occurred right after he'd taken a shower, though otherwise the situations, and the two men, couldn't have been more different. 

He'd met Jordie right before the beginning of his sophomore year. Benny hadn't been too sure about his sexuality at the time, and Jordie wouldn't have been his normal type anyway, but something about the shy little freshman had attracted his attention. Instead of hanging out with his fraternity brothers and track teammates, he'd found himself pursuing Jordie's company, dragging him along wherever he went. Jordie was the first man he ever kissed, the first man he had sex with. It had never quite worked out between them, despite several attempts, but somehow they kept on ending up with each other.

There was never any question that Phil was exactly, precisely his type. Then again, with 6'4" worth of lean muscle, blond curls, sparkling green eyes and a large basket exquisitely showcased by his turquoise Speedo, how could he not have been? He'd smiled at Benny as he'd passed him on the way to the outdoor showers and Benny had forgotten all about getting back to his friends. Later he remembered it all, the water cascading down on Phil's broad shoulders, Phil rubbing his hands over his chest and adjusting himself in his Speedo in order to rinse off the saltwater, shutting his eyes and turning his face up into the spray, as if it had taken place in slow motion, like those teen movies when the boy first spots the object of his affection. "See something you like?" Phil had smirked, when he'd noticed Benny gaping at him.

At 28, Benny hadn't been thinking long-term. That first weekend had been all about fucking, partying and then fucking some more. They'd exchanged phone numbers and had seen each other off and on throughout the rest of the summer, though not exclusively. At some point Benny had noticed that he was seeing more of Phil, that during the not infrequent orgies of the times they'd started pairing up and moving through the crowd together, that he didn't exactly mind when he woke up to find Phil's big body sprawled out next to him, even when Phil was hogging the covers. Still, he hadn't realized what was happening. When Phil had told him that he thought he loved him, roughly eight months after they'd first met, Benny hadn't felt surprised or nervous, just a recognition of his own feelings and an absolute certainty that Phil and he would grow old together.

It had been the most ordinary of mornings, when Benny got the call at work. He still remembered Phil's sister's voice, how she'd kept on repeating "Oh, Benny... Benny, Phil... Phil..." and hadn't been able to get past their two names, and how he'd immediately known that Phil was gone forever, even though Liz hadn't yet said it. Just a stupid, ordinary morning, with Phil on his way to an appointment and one split second's worth of inattention, caused by who knew what, when he'd stepped into the street, even though the light had changed. Much later Benny would be thankful that that particular morning they hadn't been bickering over who was going to pick up the dry cleaning or go to the post office, that they'd actually shared a cup of coffee and the New York Times, rather than rushing along like they'd done on so many other days in the routines they'd created together during twelve years of living together.

This was the thing that Roger and the rest just didn't get. It wasn't that he still pined for Phil seven years after his death, or that it was the pain of having lost him that kept Benny from trying for a second time. It was simply that he was no longer interested. He'd had his love affair, and he didn't see any reason to search for someone to take over Phil's place in his life. And he didn't need help from his friends to get laid. Besides, people willing to be set up by their friends and family were, by definition, people who were looking for somebody, and Benny didn't want anybody thinking that he was going to be that somebody for them.

And so, the question remained: what to do in order to avoid being set up and, at the same time, avoid insulting Carrie by not being interested in her precious brother. Jordie had indicated that he'd have at least some free time. Maybe Benny could ask him to the rehearsal dinner, which would be a smaller and more informal affair, and where it would be more difficult to avoid match-making efforts. Plus, the earlier Carrie's brother understood that Benny wasn't interested or available, the better. 

Still, there'd been an evasive note to Jordie's voice, when he'd talked about the project and needing to work; it had reminded Benny of the old days, when Jordie had been trying to hide that he'd relapsed. If he was hitting the bottle again, Benny wasn't sure he was up to dealing with him. Maybe if he were feeling better himself, but not now, and certainly not where Roger could witness the situation and start busting Benny's balls all over again about being an enabler, and about how he needed to kick Jordie to the curb and be done with him.

*******************

The day of the rehearsal dinner Benny woke up half-hoping for a bad bout of stomach flu, so that he'd have a legitimate reason for not attending. In fact, he felt better than he had in a long time. He rolled over onto his side, cushioning his head on his arm, and gazed at the photo on his nightstand. It had been taken at Liz's wedding, about a year before Phil had been killed; in it, both Phil and he were laughing at something that must have been taking place to the photographer's right. They might have simply been friends, except for the way that Phil had his arm around Benny's shoulders and how Benny was leaning against him, his head resting against Phil's. For almost two years Benny hadn't been able to even look at the picture, but now it always made him smile.

"So I have to do this thing," he muttered to Phil. "Place myself at the mercy of Carrie and Roger, with no help from either you or Jordie." 

At least he had met with Jordie and been able to ascertain that he was okay. More than okay. "Looks like it might happen for him, Phil, just like it did for us, so long as this guy sees through his defensive bullshit and doesn't let him get away with it." 

He got up, as always a little embarrassed about speaking to Phil out loud. If Roger knew he was doing so, he'd be recommending therapy, and if he knew that Benny sometimes thought he heard Phil answering him, possibly a straitjacket. And unfortunately Roger had the professional accreditation and licenses required to do so.

If Benny had to be honest with himself, he'd always been a little vain. Still, he'd never spent quite as much time in front of the mirror as he had since his return from hospital. He might not be interested in meeting anybody, but he didn't want to look like an invalid, either. For some reason he hadn't managed to put much weight back on, but he was up to half-hour brisk walks twice a day and he looked a little healthier. The haircut he'd gotten yesterday had helped. The gray, too-long curls had made him look like mutton dressed as lamb; even though more severe, the short hairstyle somehow made his face look younger. At least he still had a full head of hair, a trait that, along with his 6'2" height, came from his German ancestors. His facial features, brown eyes and olive skin were due to his mother's Italian heritage. Whenever he looked at photos of his relatives, Benny knew he'd lucked into just about the best combination of genes he could have possibly hoped for.

The rehearsal dinner was informal. "Very informal; jeans, sneakers and sweatshirt kind of informal, so long as you don't wear your ratty Dartmouth or Columbia ones," Roger had warned, though Benny felt that Roger's objection lay more in the schools than the rattiness. It also wasn't so much a dinner as an all-day affair, starting with brunch, at Roger's Westchester home. Rather than jeans, Benny opted for chinos and a coral long-sleeved shirt, which concealed his gauntness and lent some color to his face. He packed an overnight bag, since he was spending the night at Roger's house; his altered tux had already been delivered there.

The train to White Plains was oddly full for a Saturday morning, but he managed to snag a front row seat, which gave him more room to stretch his legs, so long as nobody came to sit directly opposite him. Right before the train jerked into motion, a man dropped into the seat diagonally across from him and smiled a polite greeting in Benny's direction. Benny smiled back, then turned his attention back to his paper, only looking up again when the conductor came by. He wouldn't have spoken to the man, except for the fact that he'd taken his windbreaker off, and Benny saw the Dartmouth Crew emblem on his long-sleeved T-shirt.

"You go to Dartmouth?" he asked, and the man looked surprised for a moment, then laughed.

"Not for the last eighteen years, no. But thank you."

Benny's face grew hot. He should have kept his damned mouth shut. He couldn't very well admit that he hadn't looked at the guy's face very closely. Which, now that he did, was obviously that of a man in his late thirties or early forties. Make that of an attractive man in his late thirties or early forties, with hazel eyes, a wide generous mouth, milky skin with a smattering of freckles across his nose and high cheek bones. Benny figured that the only right name for his hair color, a bright, almost gold auburn, was titian. It was the hair -- messy, thick and long overdue for a cut -- that had tricked him into thinking the man was younger.


No Other Life than This Ch. 01



"Class of 84," mumbled Benny, certain that the guy didn't really give a shit, but wanting to establish that his question had been due to their both being sons of old Dartmouth, to quote the school song, rather than to a more personal interest.

"92," the man responded, his tone friendly enough, and Benny felt it would be rude to just turn back to his paper.

"You were on the crew team?"

"Yeah." The man grinned. "Hated every minute of it."

"And yet you still wear the shirt."

"Some days I need reminding that all things, no matter how unpleasant, shall eventually pass. This shirt does that," the man said grimly, though there was also a hint of amusement in his voice that showed that he wasn't taking himself too seriously.

"I always thought rowing on the Connecticut had to be fun. Certainly more fun than running alongside it, which is what I had to do."

"Oh, believe me, we ran alongside it plenty. Coach was a big believer in running."

"So why didn't you quit?"

The man shrugged. "I don't like dropping out of stuff. I figured it was only for four years."

Benny laughed. "Four years?"

"Hey, it wasn't like I was volunteering, except for the first time, but there weren't that many guys my size around. They kept on asking me back!"

Benny tried to think of another conversation topic, but couldn't come up with anything. His fellow alumnus didn't seem very interested in pursuing further discussion either, leaning his head back against the headrest and shutting his eyes. 

Unobserved, Benny was free to study him. Benny remembered the rowers, had even slept with a couple of them, and this guy had the typical body of a heavyweight, hovering at around 6'6", long and leanly muscled, though he would have almost certainly been bigger, when on the team. Benny's gaze travelled appreciatively up the long, denim-clad thighs, the flat abdomen, the slight swell of pecs and biceps under the T-shirt, settling for a while on the curving mouth, then drifting on up, to meet amused hazel eyes. Benny successfully overcame his instinct to quickly look away, and remained staring, a simmering heat starting to uncoil in his belly.

"See something you like?" the man murmured huskily, and Benny suddenly felt like he'd been doused in ice water.

"I... No. Sorry, no," he answered hurriedly, and turned to gaze sightlessly out of the window, trying not to think of Phil and of how he'd answered that same question all those years ago. He rubbed his chest, trying to ease the sudden pressure.

By the time his stop was announced, his neck and shoulders were aching with tension. Although still resolutely staring out of the window, he was aware that the man was standing up and putting his jacket on, so he waited until the last possible moment to grab his own things and disembark. Despite his hope, the guy hadn't moved on, but was standing outside the station, obviously waiting for somebody. Benny hung further back, trying to remain inconspicuous, until he saw Roger's ancient BMW pull up. Roger clambered out and waved at him.

"Hey!"

With a sigh of relief, Benny headed towards the car and dumped his bag in the back seat.

"Hey, yourself. You're not looking as nervous as I expected you to."

"Shit, man, I'm sweating bullets," Roger groaned. "I really think this is it."

"It?"

"My last chance to get it right. No time for re-dos, even if I wanted to, which I don't, because Carrie's it. You know?"

"I know. Believe me, Roger, I know. So, are we going?"

"Hold on, we're also picking Carrie's brother up. That gigantic ginger-top must be him." 

Roger trotted off, and Benny rested his arm on the roof of the car and hung his head, closing his eyes. Fuck. What a fucking mess.

"Benny, this is Matt, Carrie's brother. Matt, Benny, my best man."

"Ah, yes. For the third time now, isn't it?"

The hazel eyes that had seemed so warm and lively in the train were now flat and cold. Benny gaped at him, not sure if it was only him being insulted, or Roger, as well.

"You know what they say, third time lucky," Benny drawled, watching with satisfaction as Matt's face hardened further.

"Well, Carrie's expecting us, and the rest of the family and friends are going to start showing up pretty soon, so we'd better get going," Roger said a little too heartily, his normally fair skin puce with embarrassment. For a split second Benny regretted his knee-jerk response. Roger probably wouldn't appreciate Benny's rudeness towards his future brother, but hell, Matt had started it. Looking at the bright side, though, between them Matt and he must have quashed any further match-making attempts. 

"I'll sit in the back," Matt almost growled, shoving Benny's stuff further along the seat, dumping his own on top of it, and folding himself awkwardly into the small space, not even waiting for Benny to slide the front seat forward in order to create a little more room for him. And although Benny would have normally done so without being asked, he didn't. Instead he fastened his seatbelt and ostentatiously stretched his own legs as far as they'd go.

"Well, I can't say that went very well," Roger remarked mildly after a silent and seething ride home, as they stood by the car watching Matt stalk up the path to the front entrance, where his sister was waiting for him.

"You think?" Benny snarled and Roger flinched.

*******************

To everybody's credit, they managed to act more or less like adults for the rest of the day, even when Benny realized that he and Matt were going to be sharing the same guest room. By the time Benny managed to corner an evasive and increasingly skittish Roger alone outside by the barbecue, he didn't have enough energy left for anything but the most minor of temper tantrums.

"Jesus, Roger!" he exploded.

"Calm down, will you? This is how you got your ulcer."

"Last time you said not expressing my feelings was how I got my ulcer. So now you're going to stay here and listen to me fucking express them. In the same fucking room? What were you thinking?"

"Well, what do you want? We've only got one guest room; this isn't the White House."

"Can't he stay at a hotel?"

"Benny, he's Carrie's brother. What's the matter with you?"

"The matter with me is that even if he wasn't an asshole, you guys were setting us up, and you don't put people you're trying to set up in the same room. It's just a little too heavy-handed." Benny was having trouble keeping his voice down to a low roar.

"In the first place, he's not an asshole."

"Roger, the first thing he did on meeting you was insult you," Benny pointed out, conveniently omitting the fact that he might also have been a target.

"Well, he was right. It is my third marriage and that's not a very good track record. He loves Carrie, and he's concerned," Roger answered reasonably. "As for putting you in the same room, since both you and he were adamant that you weren't interested in meeting one another, we didn't think it would be a problem. If either of you had expressed the minutest interest, we wouldn't have done so. Unless the other had expressed interest, as well. But neither did."

Benny didn't even try to follow that reasoning. "Well, can I stay at a hotel?"

Roger sighed. "Benny, please. I've already had a full day, and it's not even five o'clock yet. We still have dinner to go, and it's going to be an even fuller day tomorrow. I can't be driving you back and forth. Besides, I need you here. Really, what fucking difference does it make where you guys are sleeping? It's not like we put you in the same bed or anything."

Benny pressed his lips together. The rational answer was, of course, that it made no difference whatsoever, even though for some reason he couldn't quite get himself to see it that way. One thing was for sure, there wasn't any point in discussing it further with an obviously frazzled Roger. He'd simply watch TV in the den until everybody went to bed, then sleep on the couch down there.

"You're right." He tried to loosen his jaw enough so that he could smile at Roger, and he slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Sorry, Roger."

Roger hesitated. "Benny, are you okay? Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine." Benny impulsively hugged his old friend and kissed him on the cheek, and Roger squirmed a little and laughed, before walking back into the house. Benny stayed outside and drew in a deep breath of cool, crisp air.

"For the record, I was trying to insult you, not Roger."

Benny turned around and to see Matt leaning against the small garden shed. "What are you doing lurking over there?"

Matt held up a pack of cigarettes in answer. Benny opened his mouth and quickly shut it again, but Matt saw him. "What, are you going to tell me that I should give up the demon weed?"

"I might if I cared enough."

"Not a humanitarian, huh?"

Benny snorted.

"Can I just say something here?" Matt asked, and Benny shrugged. "The truth is, I was pissed off, and I took it out on you."

If there was an actual apology attached to that confession, Benny didn't hear it. On the other hand, he'd never been much of a stickler for details.

"Why were you pissed off?"

"At having to meet you. Carrie kept on going on and on about you, nice guy, not like the losers I always go out with, yack yack yack. I didn't know you didn't want to be set up either."

Benny was oddly touched by the fact that Carrie didn't think he was a loser. 

"You generally go out with losers?"

"Well, obviously I don't think so. Besides which, you sound like a pretty big loser yourself."

"Why, thank you. Because you know me so well." By rights, Benny should not have been almost enjoying the sparring with Matt.

"A best man three times? For the same guy? You don't also happen to have 27 tuxes stored in a closet in your entryway, do you?"

Benny sighed in defeat. "I know. I tried to refuse, but Roger doesn't take no for an answer. He didn't the first two times either."

Matt flicked his Zippo open and shut. "There you go. Actions speak louder than words. He probably won't listen to you the fourth time around, either, now that you've conclusively proven that even though you say no, you don't really mean it."

"I've known Roger since we were both in diapers and I've never seen him like this before. I don't think there's going to be a fourth time." Benny was only sharing this fact because he liked Carrie; if she'd confessed some doubts to Matt about the permanence of Roger's feelings for her, Matt could now offer some reassurance. It wasn't like Benny gave a shit about whether Matt himself was worried.

"Carrie didn't tell me you'd gone to Dartmouth," Matt continued on a completely different vein.

Benny shrugged. "I'm not sure she knows. I don't think it's ever come up."

"I'd have put two and two together, otherwise. I mean, how many gay Dartmouth alums your age would have been heading out to White Plains on this particular Saturday morning?"

Benny frowned at him, not sure why Matt was bringing their initial meeting up.

"Why did you freeze me out? You were obviously interested."

"What do you care? I thought you didn't want to meet me," Benny said, but even to his own ears his voice sounded weird, a little breathless. Too late he realized that he hadn't denied being interested.

"Oh, come on, Ben, don't even try that. I wasn't interested in meeting the faceless loser three-times-best-man, not any more than you were interested in meeting Carrie's little brother. I most certainly was interested in the good-looking guy sitting across from me and ogling me."

Benny shook his head and looked back toward the house. "We should go back inside."

"I was talking to Carrie just now, and she said you've been pretty sick. And that your partner was killed a few years ago."

"Well, then, Carrie told you all the pertinent sad little facts, didn't she?" Benny asked angrily. "You must be quite the humanitarian yourself, if she thought that's what it would take to pique your interest."

Benny turned around and went back into the house. He didn't expect people to fall over themselves to spend time with him because of his charming personality, but he didn't like wondering if the only reason Matt had tried mending the fences between them was because he felt sorry for him. He ignored Roger's father, who was calling to him, and climbed the stairs up to guest room, where he flopped onto one of the beds on his back, covering his eyes with his forearm. 

"I'm nobody's pity case," he whispered to Phil, even though he never spoke to Phil outside of their bedroom, his voice thick and shaky, and the facts that he knew he was overreacting and that he unaccountably felt like crying only made him angrier.



No Other Life than This Ch. 02



It was pitch black when Benny woke up. He lay absolutely still for a couple of seconds, fighting a losing battle against nausea as he tried to figure out where the hell he was. The only thing he was really sure of at the moment was that throwing up in a strange bed would not a good thing. He dizzily shoved at the weight lying across his stomach, wondering how sheets and blankets could be that heavy, and how he'd get out from under them quickly enough to locate a bathroom. Or any handy receptacle.

The weight moved on its own, freeing him, and a sudden glare of light made him moan and squeeze his eyes shut. Oh, Jesus, he was never going to make it. Then he was being turned onto his side, and a large hand cupped his head and firmly guided it over the side of the bed.

"It's okay, Ben," he heard someone whisper, and he opened his eyes a slit to find an empty bucket standing on the floor right underneath him. 

Once it became obvious that nothing more was going to come up, he started to weakly roll back into bed, and the same someone helped him, until he was lying flat on his back. "Let everything settle down for a bit, then we'll get you some painkillers and water."

Benny tried opening his eyes again, with more success this time. Matt was propped on one elbow, looking down at him. Benny spent a moment stupidly admiring the dusting of freckles on Matt's bare shoulders and pecs, then the synapses in his brain slowly started to fire again.

"What happened?" He surreptitiously felt under the covers and the discovery that he wasn't wearing underwear did not exactly set his mind at ease. 

"You tied one on last night. Around midnight, Roger and I helped you upstairs and into bed, and we set up the bucket for you."

"Oh." Benny remembered that part, at least up to being led upstairs, but that didn't answer any of the more worrisome questions, like why Matt was in the same bed with him and why Benny wasn't wearing any underwear and whether Matt was in the same state of undress. "We didn't..." he started, but then found he didn't really want to know.

Matt snorted. "Well, it wasn't for lack of you trying," he said. "Luckily or unluckily, you couldn't quite get it up in your state, and I don't top. I have to admit you're pretty inspired with your fingers and mouth, though. You certainly won't hear me complaining about last night."

Benny listened in mounting horror. "I... I'm not quite sure what to say," he muttered weakly.

Matt looked down at him for a couple of more seconds, then burst out laughing, the loud sound making Benny whimper in pain. "Relax, you idiot. Nothing happened. You were out like a light the moment we got you into bed."

"Then why aren't I wearing any underwear? And what are you doing in the same bed?"

"Well, as to the first, I have no idea. Roger and I certainly had nothing to do with that. You must like hanging free."

"And the second?"

Benny watched in fascination as a rush of color stained Matt's cheeks and throat.

"When I came up you were mumbling and thrashing and nothing I did seemed to get you to calm down, so I climbed in with you." Matt shrugged. "It worked."

As far as Benny was concerned, that was worse than trying to fuck Matt and not being able to get it up in order to do so. "Oh, shit. What was I saying?" he whispered brokenly.

"I couldn't tell," Matt said, then he rolled out of bed and stood up facing Benny. Benny noted with relief that he was wearing boxer briefs, then grew distracted by the way they outlined Matt's junk, which appeared to be in proportion with the rest of him. "I'll go get you that painkiller and water." 

To Benny's embarrassment, he took the bucket with him when he left, casually waving away Benny's objections, as well as his thanks when he returned with a bottle of water and a blister pack of painkillers. 

"Don't worry about it. I'm used to it."

"Taking care of drunk men?"

Matt grinned. "Some, but mainly sick people. I'm a doctor. Didn't Roger mention it?"

"No."

"Jeez, I'd have thought that would have been the obvious way to a Jewish boy's heart."

"That would be the Jewish boy's parents, not the boy himself. Besides, I'm not Jewish."

"You're not? I thought your last name—"

"No, in my case Siegel comes from German. Something to do with making or using wax seals. But my mom's Catholic Italian, so you can still make your case, if you want to." Benny ordered himself to shut the fuck up and stop trying to flirt. He must still be drunk.

Matt crossed over to his own bed and sat down, propping himself against the headboard, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankles. "Carrie didn't mean any harm, you know," he said quietly. "She also mentioned that you're a lawyer, that you love the Yankees, and that you can quote almost all of Spinal Tap, even down to the accents."

"A real Renaissance man," Benny joked feebly, as he wondered why Matt had then opted to mention the two issues that Benny least wanted to talk about. Though to be fair, there were far too many people out there that couldn't wait to start talking about their personal tragedies, real or perceived; that was another reason Benny didn't date. He'd heard way too many sob stories.

Matt didn't smile, but his eyes were warmer than they'd been since Roger had introduced Benny to him at the station. He stretched with a closed-mouth yawn, and Benny watched the play of muscles under the white skin. It was September, and Matt should have had at least the remains of a tan, but it didn't look as if he'd been out in the sun all summer. 

Matt scooted down under the covers and thumped his pillow a couple of times, before lying flat. "We should probably aim to get some sleep. G'night, Ben."

Sleep was a good idea. Benny got up and went to the bathroom to rinse his mouth, then returned to bed and turned off the light. He lay staring into the dark for a long time; the silence felt tense and thick with things left unsaid, and he was almost sure that Matt was also still awake.

"Matt?" he checked softly. 

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to thank you." For taking care of him so matter-of-factly. For being kind enough to pretend that he'd understood nothing of Benny's mumblings, even though Benny almost always had the same nightmare, and Jordie had told him on two separate occasions exactly what he'd said, most of it a long litany of begging Phil not to leave him and then cursing him because he had. 

"You're welcome."

Benny heard the rustling of covers, then, after a while, soft snoring. He remained awake, thinking of how Jordie had never managed to calm him down through one of his nightmares by simply holding him. It had probably only worked for Matt because he was big, more like Phil in size, and because Benny had been drunk enough to be confused. He felt tears prickle at his eyelids. What the hell was wrong with him? He never cried. Fucking ulcer, leaving him weak.

He finally fell asleep as dawn started to lighten the shadows in the room. When he woke to the sound of Roger thumping on the door and bawling "Get Me to the Church on Time," he remembered a confused dream, in which a younger, college-aged version of himself had been running through the woods behind the Dartmouth golf course with Jordie, like they'd done hundreds of times, only whenever he looked around, it wasn't Jordie next to him, but Phil, and right at the end, Matt.

*******************

When Benny stood up to toast the couple, he still hadn't worked out exactly what he wanted to say. He'd thought about it all day, or as much as his lingering hangover and baby-sitting Roger through numerous panic attacks had allowed him to, and even though he'd won cases in court based on his speeches, he couldn't come up with anything special enough for the occasion. Matt had hung out with Carrie for a bit and then left early in Carrie's car to visit with his parents, who had driven down from Boston the previous day, at their hotel; their few interactions had been cordial, if a bit awkward, and Matt couldn't offer Benny any clues as to what Carrie might like to hear.

Benny waited until people noticed him standing with his glass in his hand and the conversation had died down. 

"As a few of you may know, I've been in this position once or twice before," he started out, figuring he might as well acknowledge the elephant in the room himself, then waited through the predictable hoots and cat-calls. "Carrie, when I see Roger with you, I know, without him having to say a word, that he's finally met the woman he wants to spend the rest of his days with." He paused and smiled at Roger. "I also know that he can't believe how fucking lucky he is that you've decided to give him that opportunity. So here's to both of you. Long life, love and happiness."

Roger was beaming, his round face pink with joy. "That was so fucking romantic," he said ecstatically, slapping Benny on the back. 

Carrie just shook her head, biting back a smile. "Thanks for that unsuitable-for-minors moment on my bleeping wedding video, Benny. Come on, you, we need to do the rounds," she ordered her new husband, and he stood obediently and helped her up.

"Thank you for not rambling on for half an hour like last time, Benjamin. I don't have that many years left and I don't like to waste'em," Roger's father said, clinking his glass against Benny's.

"Why, you're very welcome, Dennis."

"I guess we won't have the opportunity to witness a similar happy occasion for you. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride sort of thing, eh?"

As if Benny needed a reminder of how much he loathed Dennis. "Not while bigots still get to vote, Dennis, but, as you say, you don't have that many years left, so who knows. I might still get my chance."

Dennis cackled. "Hell, from what I'm reading, allowing gay marriage would bring more money into the state coffers, so on that basis alone, I'm all for it. It was more your personality I was thinking of."

Caught wrong-footed, Benny considered replying that Dennis was living proof that even assholes found someone in life that would put up with them, but he'd liked Roger's mother too much to drag her into this. Still, he hated not having the last word in an argument with Dennis. He was fruitlessly searching for a retort, all too aware that critical minutes were slipping by, weakening any come-back, when a hand wrapped itself around his wrist and yanked him away from the table.

"Come on, we've got to take care of the car," Matt whispered, dragging him towards the ballroom doors, where Curtis and Tom, friends of Roger's and Benny's since kindergarten, were waiting. Benny couldn't remember the last time he'd seen them giggling.

"Aren't we a little old for this?" he complained, digging his heels in and trying to twist his wrist out of Matt's grasp.

"Absolutely," Matt crowed, easily overcoming Benny's resistance. They caught up with the other two behind Roger's BMW and Matt shoved a can of shaving foam into Benny's hand. "Here. Get creative."

Benny had never been very creative, but he figured "Just Married" blazoned across the front and back windshields was always tasteful and appropriate. After he was done, he looked over to see Matt drawing something that looked like a squashed balloon with a bunch of pipes growing out of the top of it.

"What the hell is that?"

Matt grinned. "It's a heart. See, this is the aorta, right here."

"Ah. Not only romantic, but educational, as well. Lovely."

In the meantime, Tom and Curtis had dragged a large garbage bag over from Tom's car, and Tom pulled out what seemed like a couple of hundred soda cans strung together.

"Wow. That looks like a lot of man-hours."

"I bribed my kids to do it," Tom said, squatting down to tie the cans on the back bumper. "Thank God for greedy teenagers."

When Tom leaned his bulk against the bumper to stand up again, the car alarm went off, making the four men jump. They all looked guiltily at each other, then burst out laughing. Somebody in the distance called something, and they ran for cover.

"Serpentine, Shelly! Serpentine!" Curtis suddenly yelled, and Benny and Tom both ran back to the BMW and then zig-zagged their way back to where the other two were now standing behind a Lexus SUV. Benny bent over and braced his hands on his knees, wheezing for breath. He was going to puke again, and he wasn't even drunk this time.

"What was that all about?" Matt asked, and the other three looked at him in amazement.

"What do you mean? You've never seen 'The In-Laws'?"

"What, the movie with Michael Douglas and Albert Brooks? Yeah, but I don't remember that scene."

"It's that generation gap we were always warned about, finally rearing its ugly head," Curtis lamented. "Hell, no. The original version, with Peter Falk and Alan Arkin. You must have seen it."

Matt shook his head smilingly.

"Well, when you get back home, you have to look for it."

"Where's home, anyway?" Tom asked.

"I just moved back to New York a week ago. I was in Los Angeles before."

Benny shushed them, and they watched as one of the valets walked over, then stopped short and stared at the car. He looked around suspiciously, and the men quickly ducked.

"There's no reason to shoot me, I'm a dentist," Curtis quoted sotto-voce, and he, Tom and Benny started giggling again, while Matt stared at them, a smile tugging at his lips.

Once they'd ascertained that the valet had no intention of undoing their good work and had only reset the car alarm, they went back inside to re-join the party. Curtis and Tom both headed toward their table, where their wives were sitting. Rather than returning to his seat next to Dennis, Benny aimed for the open bar, Matt trailing behind him.

"So, 'The In-Laws', huh?"

"A classic," Benny responded solemnly. After the last 36 hours, he was seriously starting to run out of steam; he wondered if there was any way he could graciously duck out of the rest of the event. He asked the waiter for a glass of water, then started to look for a seat that wasn't in the middle of everything.

"Everything okay?" Matt asked him in a gentle voice.

"Fine," Benny said hurriedly, pasting a smile on his face and squaring his shoulders.

The DJ was playing a slow song that Benny didn't recognize. Carrie and Roger were among the couples on the dance floor, and Benny stood watching them, momentarily forgetting his tiredness.

"Don't you wish you could do that?" Matt asked.

"Do what? Get married?"

"Dance."

"What's so difficult about it?"

"Don't be obtuse. I mean dance at an event like this with someone you actually want to dance with, without scandalizing everybody or causing a big stink. Sometimes it feels like family events are the place where you can least be yourself."

Benny set his empty glass on a table.

"Would you want to dance with me, if I asked you?"

"Are you serious? What, now?"

"Yes, I'm serious, and yes, now."

Matt looked around nervously and licked his lips. "Look, Ben, I don't think—"

"Will it bother Carrie or your parents?" Benny interrupted him.

"No, of course not."

"Well, it won't bother Roger, either, and they're the only ones who even remotely have a right to raise a stink. Other than you."

"What about Tom and Curtis?"

"What are they, your new best friends? Why do you care? And for the record, they don't give a shit." Benny waited, but Matt still seemed unable to make up his mind. "We're going to run out of slow dancing music, and I'm not up to anything quick," Benny warned, and Matt suddenly nodded jerkily.

"Okay." He gave a breathless little laugh, at odds with the self-assured image he'd projected since Benny had first seen him in the train. "Who's gonna lead?"

"Lead? Matt, this isn't ballroom dancing," Benny murmured, sliding his arms around Matt's waist under his jacket, and pulling him against him, so that they swayed together, their feet barely moving. 

At first Matt was stiff as a board, his hands on Benny's shoulders, his torso angled away. Benny didn't say anything, simply smoothed his hands up and down Matt's broad back in a slow caress, until Matt relaxed, wrapped one arm around Benny's shoulders and cupped Benny's nape with his other hand, his thumb rubbing small circles behind Benny's ear. He bent his head to lean his forehead against Benny's. 

"This feels weird," he whispered, as if somebody was close enough to hear them.

"Yeah? It feels pretty good to me," Benny answered, pulling Matt a little closer, so that their thighs occasionally brushed together. He felt the sudden urge to kiss each one of the freckles dusting Matt's nose and cheekbones. It would take hours.

"Good," Matt conceded. "Still weird, though." He closed his eyes and wet his lips, and Benny felt that same coiling heat in his belly that he'd felt yesterday on the train. He wanted to lower his hands to Matt's ass and pull his hips closer, wanted to press his stiffening dick against Matt's groin and find out if Matt was also responding to their closeness.

"You know what the worst part is, don't you?" Benny whispered.

Matt opened his eyes and smiled. "The fact that Roger and Carrie will tell us that they told us so, and that they'll never listen to us again when we tell them we don't want to be set up with every gay man they happen to run across?"

Benny laughed. "Exactly."

"Well then, we might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb," Matt said, his voice a little deeper than before, and he pushed his leg between Benny's. Benny instinctively almost humped against Matt's thigh, then, realizing what he was about to do, tried to back away.

"Listen, I know I said Roger is okay with this, but I think dirty dancing would be testing his limits," he said unsteadily.

"Yeah, I don't think my parents would be that cool either, and my mom's a card-carrying member of PFLAG. I don't feel much like dancing any more anyway." Matt bent his head further down, and pecked Benny on the lips. "Not standing up, at any rate."

Benny was finding it hard to breathe. "We need to wait for the cake." He hoped it was clear from his voice that he could easily be convinced otherwise, but unfortunately Matt didn't know him well enough to pick up on his cue.

"You're right," he said. His big hand slid from around Benny's neck to cup his cheek. "I'm not waiting for you to eat your slice, though. It's either me or the cake."

"I bet the cake tastes better than latex."

"I'm clean, but you don't have to blow me it it's a problem," Matt laughed, stepping away from Benny as the slow tune ended and was replaced by a quicker beat. "I'm sure we can come up with any number of alternatives, if we put our heads together."

Benny actually blushed.

*******************

In the end, they stayed long enough to wave goodbye to the couple as they drove off, tin cans bouncing merrily behind the car for about a hundred feet, until the string broke.

"Well, shit," Tom said, a little crestfallen. "You just can't trust a boy to do a man's work."

The rest of the guests headed back inside, while Benny stalled, looking for Matt. He felt a quick moment of panic, then finally spotted him standing a little to the side, next to a tall ashtray. He'd taken off his bow tie and undone the top studs of his shirt, and Benny thought he hadn't seen anybody sexier in a long, long time. He moved a little closer.

"Ready to go?" Matt asked, drawing on his cigarette one last time, then stubbing it out, and Benny nodded.

Neither Carrie nor Roger had been able to take time off from work, so they'd decided to spend a couple of nights at the Plaza in Manhattan. Matt still had Carrie's car; the plan was for them to return to Roger and Carrie's home for their things, change, and then catch a cab to the station, either the same night if they could make the last train into Manhattan, or the next morning.




No Other Life than This Ch. 02



"I'm pretty sure we missed the last train," Matt said calmly, on their way back to the house.

"You think so?" Benny knew for a fact that the last train left a few minutes after eleven, which meant they could get to the station with time to spare.

"Uh huh. Pretty sure."

"Well, okay then. If you're sure."

Matt simply smiled, and Benny tried to think boring thoughts in an effort to control his raging hard-on, half-afraid that he wouldn't be able to sustain it for very long and that it would wither away right when he needed it most. His first thought was that they would need to wash the sheets the next morning, but that led to his thinking of exactly how and why they'd get dirty, and it was all pretty much a lost cause after that. "Condoms," he croaked in sudden panic.

"Don't worry. I've got all the necessary supplies."

Benny crossed his arms over his chest. "Why? You didn't even want to meet me." He wasn't sure why he kept harping on that, after all, he hadn't wanted to meet Matt either, but it sort of pissed him off.

"I was a boy scout," Matt said, and after that Benny just concentrated on his impure thoughts and tried not to squirm in his seat as his dick pressed harder and harder against his zipper.

Matt pulled into the garage and turned off the engine. For a few moments they both just sat there, looking at the wall in front of them.

"Well? Are you going to move?" Benny asked finally.

"I'm trying to decide if there's enough room to have a first go in the car," Matt answered.

"Oh, hell, yeah," Benny groaned, and leaned over to kiss Matt, only to be pulled up short by his seatbelt. He fumbled blindly at the buckle and released himself, then lunged for Matt again, banging his head against the roof. "Ow! Assuming we were both about ten inches shorter," he said ruefully, settling back into his seat and rubbing his head.

"But then I'd only be four inches long," Matt said.

"That's okay, baby, I was never a size queen."

They smirked at each other, then Matt wrenched his car door open. "Let's go do this," he grunted, and there was something about his workman-like attitude that Benny couldn't help but approve of. He almost beat Matt to the door that led into the house, despite the fact that he had to go around the car, while Matt had the direct path. Matt body-blocked him, grabbed his biceps in order to steady him, then bent his head to kiss him.

Benny liked kissing, always had. He could never figure out those that claimed it was more intimate than other sexual acts; it seemed to him that sticking your dick down someone's throat required a lot more trust – on both sides – than tongue play. The fact that Matt seemed to like it too augured well for the future. Benny opened his mouth under Matt's, let Matt's tongue in, licked at it with his own. He raised his hands and combed his fingers through Matt's hair, the long shaggy locks silky and cool, and he wondered what it would feel like to have Matt's hair brush against his hips and thighs and belly.

"You are so fucking sexy," he whispered, and Matt groaned, a long, hot exhalation into Benny's mouth. Benny's fingers clenched in Matt's hair in reaction, and he tried to press his body closer. Matt pushed his thigh between Benny's legs, like he had while they were dancing, and this time Benny had no qualms about humping against it and trying to get more friction against his hard-on. 

He was wearing way too many clothes; they both were. He reluctantly let go of Matt's hair and took a step back, trying to shrug his jacket off. Matt had his eyes closed and he muttered something that sounded like a protest, then he opened them and saw what Benny was doing and copied him. The jackets were easy, but cuff-links required more coordination than Benny, hands shaky, thought he could manage.

"Here," Matt said, reaching over to help Benny. 

Benny stood docilely holding up one hand at a time for Matt. He smiled at the look of concentration on Matt's face. "You look so intense."

"Damn right." Matt stood with Benny's cuff-links in his hand and looked around, as if unsure where to place them. "This would be easier if we were actually in the house and upstairs," he remarked and without waiting for a response, set sail for the guest room, dragging Benny behind him. Benny wasn't so sure he liked the constant manhandling, but since Matt was headed in the same direction he wanted to go in, he wasn't going fuss about it. This time.

When they reached their room, Matt dropped the cuff-links on the dresser, then started removing his own, his fingers moving with quick precision.

"You a surgeon?" Benny asked, admiring Matt's hands.

"Orthopedics," Matt confirmed. He dealt with his cummerbund and shirt studs, then reached for Benny again. "You're falling behind."

"What's the hurry?" Benny protested. "I like to undress as I go." The urgency he'd felt in the garage had left him, though the desire was, if anything, stronger. He wanted to unwrap Matt like a present, take his time; he'd always been the kid who carefully lifted the scotch tape, trying not to tear the paper. Some things were worth lingering over. 

Matt grinned. "I hope you own that tux, then."

"Why?"

"Because I'm gonna make you come in your pants," Matt murmured, yanking Benny against him and kissing him. "I'd hate for you to lose your deposit."

"Aw, fuck," Benny said breathlessly, as he found himself riding Matt's thigh again. Matt didn't let him back away a third time. He splayed one hand against Benny's waist, pulling him closer, and loosened Benny's cummerbund with the other hand. Next thing Benny knew, Matt's warm hand was insinuating itself under his trousers and underwear, fingers teasing along Benny's crack. 

"Wh– what are you...?" Benny started to asked, then shut up, because what Matt was doing became very obvious. He buried his face in Matt's shoulder as he felt a long finger breach him. "Fuck!" Benny hunched into Matt in an effort to evade the burning sensation, which only resulted in his rubbing his erection harder against Matt's leg. "Oh, Jesus, Matt..."

"You want me to go on?" Matt whispered in his ear. 

"Yes. No."

"But we both know that when you say no, you don't really mean it, best man."

"Please." Benny didn't know what he was begging for. He hung onto Matt's shoulders, gripping Matt's shirt in his fists. He tried to arch away from Matt, but Matt pushed his finger deeper, causing Benny's hips to snap forward. "Please," he groaned again.

"Please what? Stop?"

Benny tried to think, hazily aware that there were no right answers to the questions Matt was posing. The bastard was playing mind games with him, and Benny was letting him. He took a deep breath in an effort to clear his head; instead Matt's scent overwhelmed him, fresh, citrusy, but with an underlying musk that revealed Matt's arousal and made Benny dizzier. He forced his hands to unclench and let go of Matt's shirt, and ran his fingertips across Matt's bare chest, blindly searching for the small pink nipples he'd seen yesterday. When he found the stiff nubs, he pinched them hard and simultaneously bit into Matt's shoulder. Matt cried out at the sudden triple attack, but he didn't let go. Instead he renewed his assault on Benny, pulling him harder against him, his finger now twisting in Benny, his knuckle rubbing against Benny's prostate.

"You like it rough, Ben?" Matt growled and nipped at Benny's earlobe, making Benny shiver with sensation. "Huh?" He was almost hurting Benny now, but not quite, and, feeling contrite for any pain he might have caused, Benny licked at Matt's shoulder, and slipped his hands around Matt's waist, Matt's skin damp and slick against his palms. Lightheaded, he hung on, rubbing against Matt's thigh, no longer fighting the rising orgasm. He could hear Matt crooning something in his ear, but he couldn't make out the words over the blood thundering in his ears, only his name being repeated. The orgasm seemed to start in all parts of his body at once, causing his muscles to spasm, and then he was flying apart, Matt's body and arms and voice his only anchors.

*******************

"I don't think we're sexually compatible," Benny said, as he shoved his soiled pants down his legs and rolled them into a ball before sticking them in his overnight bag. He had his back turned to Matt, but he could hear the rustling of clothes being removed.

"Yeah? How do you figure?"

Benny turned to find Matt stretched out on his bed, his arms folded under his head, his long legs crossed at the ankles. His mouth literally watered when he caught his first sight of Matt's cock. Long and thick, with a large head, it was pointing straight up from a nest of strawberry blond curls. 

"What you said yesterday, about not topping..."

"I sort of lied. I like pitching. Is that a problem?" Matt asked innocently.

"Well, yeah. Because I don't particularly enjoy catching."

Matt smiled. "Is that a fact?"

"That's a fact."

Matt reached for his cock and wrapped his fingers loosely around it. "So you don't want this," he stated, his hand starting to move.

Benny fought the urge to slap Matt's hand away and take that beautiful cock in his mouth, but he was still feeling vaguely humiliated by how easily Matt had overpowered him and made him come. Matt was clearly into games of one-upmanship and Benny was long past that phase. These days he liked his sex straightforward and uncomplicated. He turned his back on Matt and grabbed his towel.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

"What's the matter, Ben? Don't like giving up control to someone else?"

Benny ignored the mocking voice and tried not to slam the bathroom door. When the water was good and hot, he stepped into the stall and tried to relax under the spray. He wasn't sure where the sudden anger was coming from. Matt was supposed to have been a fun lay, but instead the guy just kept on pushing buttons that Benny hadn't even been aware of having. Benny sighed; to get involved with Matt, even in the most casual way, was the height of stupidity, anyway. This wasn't some guy, who was going to conveniently disappear when they were done with each other. Roger's oldest friend and Carrie's brother would no doubt be running into each other on numerous occasions. Best to call it quits now, and no hard feelings. No regrets, either, Benny told himself firmly.

He stepped out of the shower and dried himself, then squinted at his watch, vaguely surprised to find that it was only ten o'clock. There was still plenty of time to pack his stuff and catch a cab to the station. He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door. Matt was leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed against his chest, still naked though no longer erect.

Benny paused for a second, then cleared his throat. "I think I'll head on back to the city tonight." He tried to walk back to the room, but Matt reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Ben. Look, I'm sorry."

His eyes were serious, and in the light of hallway, Benny could see how his irises shaded from a light, golden brown to a dark green outer ring. They were beautiful. Just like the rest of Matt.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he said gruffly. "We're both a bit drunk."

"No, we're not. I just overestimated how far I could push you."

He made Benny sound like an old fuddy-duddy, and maybe Benny had turned into one somewhere along the way. He shrugged. "You didn't push me. We just like different things. It doesn't always work out. That's okay."

He awkwardly patted Matt's hand, which was still resting on his shoulder, then continued on his way towards the guest room. He squatted over his bag, looking for a clean pair of shorts.

"So, we're good?" he heard Matt ask behind him.

"We're good," Benny assured him, sighing inwardly. "Are you staying?"

"Yeah, might as well. I don't have to be at the clinic until noon tomorrow, so I've got plenty of time."

Benny nodded, both relieved and disappointed at the same time. He pulled on his underwear, then his chinos. He was threading his belt through the loops, when Matt's big hand smoothed against his hip. Benny paused, looking up from his belt and into Matt's eyes, his heart starting to thud heavily against his breast.

"You need to put on some weight," Matt said softly.

Benny took a step back and reached for his shirt, shrugging into it and buttoning it. "Stop being a doctor," he muttered. He bundled the rest of his stuff into his bag and zipped it up, then glanced quickly around the room for any stray belongings, anxious to make his escape.

"Well. I guess I'll see you around," he said, aiming for a casual tone, but his voice sounded uncertain.

"Guess so." Matt sounded like he was smiling, though his eyes were solemn. "Oh, and by the way? I like catching, too."

Benny nodded jerkily, then went downstairs to call for a cab. He was told it would be there in five minutes, so he went to wait for it outside. If he'd stayed in the house, he wasn't so sure he could have stopped himself from going upstairs again.



No Other Life than This Ch. 03



Indian summer was in full swing. As Benny jogged slowly along the Reservoir in Central Park, sweat gluing his T-shirt to his body, he could almost fool himself into believing it was still August and that he hadn't missed half the summer with his illness. He scowled and grumbled under his breath as yet another runner breezed by him, but at least he was no longer walking. He'd completed about two thirds of the loop and had another half mile to go, when he became aware with a flicker of irritation that someone had dropped in next to him. He hated runners that paced themselves off of him and he turned to glare.

"Hey," Matt grinned at him. "I thought that was you."

"Hey," Benny responded laconically. He could talk or he could run, but he wasn't sure he could do both at the same time yet.

"How have you been?" Matt obviously had no such problem.

"Fine."

"I found that movie you, Tom and Curtis were talking about."

"Yeah?" Benny was sure that Matt was picking up the pace a little. Fucker.

"Mmmm. First I thought I'd rent it, but then it occured to me that Roger must have it, so I raided his DVD collection before I left the day after the wedding."

"Smart." Actually not so much, because Roger didn't let anybody borrow his DVDs without permission, or even with permission, but Benny needed one-word answers. "Whatdidyouthink?" he said in a rush.

"What?"

God damn him. Benny huffed and gave up the pretense. "I need to slow down. What did you think of the movie?"

Matt slowed down with him. Now that they were back to a more manageable pace, Benny could take the time to appreciate the way Matt's black long leggings fit him.

"Haven't had a chance to see it yet."

Benny raised his eyebrows. It had been almost a month. "Is Roger aware you have his DVD?"

"Not that I know of."

"Well, if he asks you about it, my advice to you is to deny all knowledge."

Matt laughed. "Can't Carrie save me?"

"I wouldn't count on it."

Benny reached the end of his loop with relief and slowed to a walk, trying to breathe through the stitch in his side. He'd expected Matt to run on ahead, but, to his surprise, Matt stuck with him.

"Well then, maybe you could help me out," Matt suggested, still smiling.

"How?"

"Come over to my place and we'll watch it together. Then you can return it to Roger. Pretend you took it?"

"And I would take my life in my own hands because..."

Matt stopped and faced Benny. "Because you want an excuse to see me again." 

Benny gaped. Matt actually looked like he was serious.

"But I don't."

"Yeah? You're satisfied with how we left things?"

Benny wasn't. The following morning he'd regretted whatever instinct had caused him to run like a scared rabbit and give up the opportunity to fuck Matt. On the other hand, in the cold light of day he'd still thought that it had been the wiser choice to walk away. He opened his mouth to confirm to Matt that he was more than satisfied, only he couldn't quite force the lie out. He swallowed and looked away.

"I need to get home. It's too cool to just be standing here."

A warm hand cupped his nape. "Or look at it this way," Matt almost purred. "I made you come and you didn't return the favor, so you owe me."

Benny wasn't sure if it was Matt's touch or the memory -- probably both -- but he was suddenly hard enough to tent his jock strap. "Fuck," he whispered vehemently, and Matt chuckled.

"Or you could make me come, and then I'll return the DVD to Roger myself and face the music."

"More like the death squad," Benny muttered.

"Whatever. What do you say? Movie, sex, hell, I'll even throw in a couple of Jackson Hole burgers."

Benny stared helplessly at Matt's smiling face. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't.

"I'll come for the movie and the burgers and I'll return the DVD to Roger," he compromised.

"Okay, great" Matt said agreeably, but it was clear that he didn't believe Benny and Benny couldn't blame him, because he didn't really believe himself either.

*******************

Matt had found an apartment near Lennox Hill Hospital, where he worked, not far from Benny's own place, so Benny walked over. He had expected something swankier, but Matt's 2nd floor walk-up was almost austere, small and sparsely furnished with only the absolute necessities. There were no paintings or rugs or knick knacks. The TV looked like it was at least ten years old.

"Your stuff hasn't arrived from Los Angeles yet?" Benny asked, after they'd ordered their burgers and had settled in the living room waiting for them to arrive.

Matt looked around in surprise, as if he was seeing his own apartment for the first time. "What do you mean? It's all here."

"Ah."

"What? It's functional. I don't like a lot of stuff."

"It's fine. Really."

Matt scowled. "I don't spend a lot of time here. I'm mostly at the hospital."

"Matt, forget I said anything."

At least the couch was comfortable, Benny thought, and he wedged himself more firmly into one corner. He searched for another topic of conversation.

"You follow football?"

Matt shook his head. "Basketball and hockey."

"Oh." Benny knew the basic rules of basketball, that hockey was played with a puck, and the names of the New York teams; that was about it.

"Have you spoken to Roger lately?" Matt asked, sounding just as stilted.

"Not for a couple of weeks. You?"

"Not for a couple of weeks."

Benny cast a surreptitious look at his watch. Well, they'd just killed five whole minutes; there was still probably half an hour to go until the burgers arrived. Matt was resting his right ankle on his left knee, and his foot was jiggling nervously. Benny wasn't quite sure what he'd expected, but it hadn't been this awkwardness. He'd thought Matt would be even more garrulous and forceful in his own territory; instead he seemed almost shy.

"Why don't we start the movie?" Matt suggested. "We can always pause it for a couple of minutes when the food gets here."

"Yeah," Benny agreed in relief.

Benny had watched the "The In-Laws" at least once a year since it had first come out thirty years ago, each time with the same enjoyment and concentration as the first time. This time his attention kept straying to Matt. He tried not to be too obvious about it, but he couldn't help glancing over every time he heard Matt laugh; sometimes he was already watching Matt to see his face change when he knew a particularly funny scene was coming up. Matt caught him at it a couple of times and smiled at him, his eyes warm. 

When the food arrived, Benny felt he'd received a reprieve, or, at the very least, a small chance to reconsider the path he'd set himself on ever since accepting Matt's invitation. He helped Matt lay out the food on the coffee table and he opened boxes while Matt brought napkins and more beer from the kitchen.

"You sure you ordered enough?" Benny asked ironically. In addition to their burgers, there were appetizers, a salad, onion rings and steak fries, and pie.

"I hope so," Matt said, reaching over and grabbing a mozzarella stick. "Why do they always offer three of each in these combo plates? What are the chances there are exactly three people?"

"Or even two people that actually like each other enough not to argue over the third piece?" Benny agreed as he grabbed two chicken fingers.

"Hey!" Matt protested. "You can't reserve a second piece. First come, first serve; whoever eats fastest, eats the most."

"You can have a second mozzarella stick. And a second chicken wing."

Matt hummed happily and pulled the combo plate in front of him, which indicated that he was aiming for a third of each, as well. "Does that offer mean you actually like me, Ben?"

"Sure," Benny croaked.

"Good," Matt said, his voice suddenly serious. He reached for the remote control and re-started the movie, without looking at Benny.

*******************

Something tickled his cheek. Still more asleep than awake, Benny rubbed at his cheek and grumbled, then nuzzled back into the curve of Phil's shoulder, his nose against the warm skin of Phil's throat. The tickle moved to the corner of his mouth, and he grumbled again.

"You're always falling asleep on me."

Benny moved from sleep to hyper-awareness in one split second. The amused voice was pitched lower than Phil's tenor, the aftershave citrus rather than the woodsy scents Phil had favored.

"Hey," Matt said, his fingers now tracing along Benny's jaw. "Sleepyhead."

Benny pushed himself up and away from Matt, eyeing him warily. Other than his general build -- and Matt was taller and lankier -- he had nothing in common with Phil, yet this was the second time Benny had been tricked. He hoped to hell he hadn't been talking in his sleep again. 

"Too much food makes me sleepy. Sorry about that."

"Too much food? You didn't even finish your burger!"

Benny shrugged. "Never was a big eater." Uncomfortable under Matt's appraising look, he stood up and wiped his suddenly damp palms against his jeans. "I'll help you clean up."

Matt didn't budge, his bare feet propped against the coffee table and his arms stretched out along the back of the couch. "But you weren't this thin before," he commented. "From the wear pattern on your belt, I'd say you've lost a good ten or fifteen pounds."

"Cheez Doodles," Benny muttered, starting to stack the empty containers.

"Are you trying not to use bad language or something?" Matt grinned.

"Probably ten of those pounds were due to Cheez Doodles. And other assorted junk food," Benny elaborated.

"And the other five?"

"My Coke habit." Goddamn, but Benny missed his Cherry Coke.

"Not the white powder variety, I take it."

"I'm eating healthier now. I'm okay."

Matt suddenly leant forward and laid his open palm against Benny's abdomen. Benny simply stood there, holding a stack of containers, feeling the warmth of Matt's hand seep through his T-shirt. He tensed as Matt's hand drifted downward and twisted, so that the long fingers insinuated themselves under the waistband of his jeans.

"I should take these into the kitchen," Benny said, but he didn't move. His heart felt like it was trying to burst out of his chest with a slow, thumping beat that left him breathless and slightly queasy.

Matt set his feet on the floor and reached for Benny's hip with his other hand. "Just put'em back on the table. They'll keep."

Benny swallowed hard, still frozen to the spot, until Matt took the containers from him and set them on the floor next to him. Then he reached for Benny again, curling one hand around Benny's belt buckle and pulling him forward between his legs.

"Are we gonna do this, Ben?" Matt asked, looking up, his face flushed along the cheekbones.

Benny slid his fingers through Matt's hair, pushing it off his forehead, and traced the fine eyebrows lightly with his thumbs. "Yeah. Yeah, I think we are."

Matt smiled, then turned his attention back to the Benny's belt, unbuckling it and unbuttoning the waistband. He pushed Benny's jeans down to his knees, then slowly swept his hands up the outside of Benny's thighs.

"You're shaking. Relax," Matt instructed, nuzzling at Benny's cotton-covered crotch.

Benny gave a strained laugh. "I don't think I can." He combed through Matt's silky hair again, the feeling of the cool strands between his fingers soothing. He tugged on them, forcing Matt's face up again, and bent down to kiss him. Matt parted his lips, allowing Benny's tongue in and then sucking on it. Never losing contact with Matt's mouth, Benny sank to his knees on the floor between Matt's legs.

Matt was wearing loose-fitting cargo shorts, and Benny slid his hands down Matt's back and under the waistband only to find bare skin.

"Naughty," he murmured, pinching the taut flesh, and Matt's lips curved under his.

"Laundry day."

Benny tugged at the waistband and Matt raised his hips, helping him shove the cargo shorts down his long legs and off.

"Ah, Jesus, you're beautiful," Benny breathed almost reverently, his fingers tracing up the vein on the underside of Matt's cock, then lightly touching the already leaking slit.

Matt's breath hitched. He braced his hands on the couch cushions and arched up, trying to reach Benny's mouth. "Ben."

For a moment Benny thought to take his revenge for the power games Matt had been playing last time, to tease him and make him beg for whatever he wanted. He wrapped his fingers around the head and stroked down Matt's length, his grip too slack to give Matt the friction Benny knew he craved. He flattened his fingers against the curls at the base, tickling more than anything, and Matt arched up again, his moan pure need. "Ben," he repeated raggedly. His head was resting against the back of the couch, his face tipped up; Benny couldn't see his expression, but his wildly bobbing Adam's apple told Benny all he needed to know, and besides, he wanted this too much himself to play stupid games. He let Matt arch up and drive his cock into his mouth, all the way down his throat. Matt cried out and jerked back in reaction, and Benny let him partly withdraw, then lunged down and deep throated him again. He pressed one hand against Matt's belly, right at the root of his dick; he could feel Matt's muscles working, tensing and releasing in the same rhythm as he raised and lowered his head, sucking strongly on the way up, his tongue lapping at the underside of Matt's cock, then lunging back down until the head hit the back of his throat. 

He would have been happy to stay there forever, on his knees in front of Matt, his arms resting on Matt's thighs partly for balance and partly in an effort to keep him pinned down against the couch, listening to Matt alternately cursing and praising him, tasting Matt, smelling him, filling every one of his senses with him, but his own dick was aching with need. He intensified his efforts, and if he hadn't been so turned on, he would have smiled at the rising pitch of Matt's voice; by the time Benny was swallowing the pulses of hot liquid erupting in his mouth, Matt was almost squeaking, and fuck if that didn't make Benny want him even more.

When Matt pushed at his head, Benny released him and smiled at him. Matt smiled back and ran his thumb along Benny's mouth.

"BJ lips." 

"And BJ breath," Benny grinned, surging up to reach Matt's mouth. Matt laughed and dragged him up against his chest, lying back so that Benny was sprawled on top of him. It wasn't a particularly comfortable position, even if Benny's shaft hadn't been trapped against the edge of the seat pointing the wrong way, so Benny pushed against Matt's shoulders and rolled off in order to sit next to him on the couch. He pushed his jeans the rest of the way off.

"Would you like me to do something about that?" Matt inquired in a polite voice, his hazel eyes sparkling, as he gazed at the tent in Benny's boxers.

"Yes, please, I'd like you to sit on it," Benny responded equally politely.

Matt seemed to give the request serious consideration, and after a few seconds he nodded. 

"I'll be right back."

While he was away, Benny stripped off completely. Matt's eyebrows jumped when he returned to find him sitting on the couch naked.

"Grecian Formula? Doesn't that burn in tender areas?" he smirked, as he tossed a condom at Benny.

"Aw, shut the fuck up," Benny muttered as he busied himself with opening the small package and rolling the condom on. "I just haven't gone gray there yet."

"I think it's kind of sexy," Matt said. "Matches your eyebrows."

Benny gritted his teeth. "Lube?"

Matt kneeled on the couch, straddling Benny. "I'm all set. Wanna check?"

Benny did, but he also couldn't resist the smooth chest right in front of his face and he only had two hands. He already knew how responsive the small pink nipples were from last time, so he pinched them both lightly, and Matt finally stopped smirking.

"You're going to have to come a little lower if you want me to bite them, as well."

"Aw, shit," Matt said in a breathless little squeak, and he reached under him to grab Benny and position himself. He closed his eyes and sank down in one smooth move. Benny gasped as he found himself suddenly engulfed in Matt's tight heat. For a long moment they both remained motionless, staring at each other; Matt's pupils were so dilated that only the dark green of his irises was visible.

"Move, Matt," Benny urged gently, his hands on Matt's hips, and Matt raised himself and sank down again, still staring into Benny's eyes. Benny tightened his hands and Matt repeated the move, slowly, so slowly, again and again, until Benny thought he was going to go crazy.

"Harder. Faster."

Matt just shook his head and continued in the same exact rhythm, so Benny resigned himself to letting Matt take his pleasure the way he wanted it. He lay back a little, in order to give Matt more room to move, and his fingers drifted along Matt's body and sweat-slick skin, flicking against Matt's nipples, playing connect-the-dots on the freckles along his collarbones, tugging lightly at the strawberry blond curls at the base of his hardening cock. After a while Matt changed his angle slightly, his moves shallower, a little jerky, and Benny formed a firm fist around Matt's erection, letting Matt stroke into it when he raised himself. 

Matt had been bracing himself against the back of the couch, arching up, but now he curved his body inward as if to burrow into Benny and placed his hands on Benny's shoulders.

"Ready?" he asked, his lips moving against Benny's.

"God, yes," Benny answered fervently and, as if in response, Matt's muscles pulsed around him and warm liquid was spurting into his fisted hand. Benny tried to hold off, to let Matt ride out his own orgasm first, but when Matt's ass clenched on his dick again, his hips jerked up, nearly unseating Matt, and then he was coming, the pleasure seeming to spread to every cell of his body, from the top of his head to his toes.

When it was over, Matt stayed sitting in Benny's lap; he looked sated and sleepy, his eyes half-closed, his mouth slack. Benny wiped his hand on Matt's thigh, then reached up and pushed Matt's hair behind his ears.

"Do you want to stay?" Matt asked drowsily.

Benny avoided a direct answer. "I've got to be at work early tomorrow."

Matt nodded and slowly unfolded himself off of Benny, wincing a little, then stood up. He reached down for his shorts and pulled them on, then picked up the food containers and took them to the kitchen while Benny took care of the condom and then dressed. 

When Matt returned to the living room, they smiled at each other a little awkwardly.

"Do you want to give me the DVD to return to Roger?"

"You'll take the fall for me?"

"Hell, no. I'll blame you, but if you're not around, he can't kill you, and by the time he sees you, he might have forgiven you."

Matt ejected the disc from the DVD player, replaced it in its case and offered it to Benny.

"They'll know we've seen each other."

Benny shrugged. "Roger has been very careful not to ask me about you."

"Carrie hasn't said a word either. So you don't mind? If they're thinking... well, whatever they're thinking?"

"Why should I?" Benny asked gruffly.

He shrugged his jacket on, stuck the DVD in his pocket, and made for the door. He paused with his hand on the knob and looked back at Matt.

"Goodnight. Thanks for dinner and... everything," he finished vaguely.

"It was a good movie. Anything else you'd recommend?"

Benny thought about it for a while.

"I like 'This is Spinal Tap'," he said finally. "Have you seen it?"

"No, believe it or not I never have. I'll look for it."

Benny absent-mindedly rubbed at a rough spot on the doorknob.

"I have it at home. You can come over and watch it sometime. If you want. Just give me a call."





No Other Life than This Ch. 03



"Thanks."

"Okay. Well, goodnight then."

He opened the door.

"Goodnight, Ben. I'll call you. About the movie."

"Okay," Benny nodded, and shut the door behind him.

When he stepped out of the building, he took a deep breath. The temperatures had cooled considerably over the past few days. Benny loved how crisp and clean New York City smelled in late October. It always made him feel like autumn was the start of something new, a bright promise of good things to come.



No Other Life than This Ch. 04



"I can't believe I'd never seen that before!" Matt exclaimed, as the closing credits of 'Spinal Tap' started to roll.

"And you call yourself cultured," Benny scoffed condescendingly, though a smile at Matt's enthusiasm slipped through at the end.

"So, what other kinds of stuff do you like?"

"Other kinds of stuff?"

"Yeah. You know, books, music, theater. What do you like?"

"Watching sports. Baseball and football mainly. Oh, and men's swimming and water polo."

"Hmm, I'm sensing a pattern of tight pants and/or lycra here. I bet you watch men's diving, too."

"Why, yes, I do. And cycling isn't bad either, now that I think about it."

"Speed skating," Matt snickered, and Benny spread his hands in a you-got-me-there gesture. "Okay, watching sports. What else?"

Benny waved towards his DVD collection. "And I've got more movies downloaded."

Matt got up and went to peruse the titles. "There's an alarming amount of Mel Brooks here," he observed with obvious disapproval.

"Three of my top ten movies are by Mel Brooks."

"Okay. And obviously 'The In-Laws' and 'Spinal Tap'. That's five."

"And in no particular order 'Caddy Shack', 'Animal House', 'Big Lebowski', 'Airplane' and 'Stripes'. These days, at least, because they change."

"Wait, did you say top ten movies or comedies?"

"Movies."

"Your top ten movies are all comedies?" Matt asked in disbelief.

Benny nodded.

"Okay, what about books?"

"Don't really read books."

"Music?"

Benny shrugged.

"Theater?"

"No, not really."

"Painting? Photography?"

"Nope. Well, some Ansel Adams stuff. And years ago, I used to watch that guy on public TV, who was always painting happy trees."

"Let me get this straight. You basically like watching guys in tight pants and comedies? That's it?"

"That about covers it."

"You're a philistine. A Cheez-Doodle-eating philistine," Matt said in amazement. "Have you no redeeming interests or hobbies?"

"Not really," Benny said cheerfully. "I'm as shallow as they come."

Matt sank onto the couch looking defeated. "Poetry?" he asked hopefully after a couple of minutes.

"Limericks. You want to hear a couple of my favorites?"

Matt momentarily looked like he might, then he laughed. "Fine, I give up." He leaned back and smiled at Benny. "Didn't you promise me dinner after the movie?"

"I can't recall that I did. But I can feed you, if you're hungry."

"I'm hungry," Matt confirmed.

"You have to help though."

"Okay," Matt said agreeably, following Benny into the kitchen. "Are we making sandwiches?"

"Oh, I think I can rustle up something a little more substantial."

*******************

"You actually go on cooking vacations? Ben, and you said you had no redeeming hobbies!"

Matt polished off the last of his chicken and polenta and leaned back with a happy sigh. Benny smiled and held up the wine bottle inquiringly, and Matt pushed his glass closer.

"I've always liked cooking. Sometimes I think that if I'd grown up in a different family or environment, I might have done it professionally. "

"Mmm, I know what you mean. I don't think there was ever any question that I would be a doctor. All the men in our family were, from both sides, and I was groomed to it from an early age. The only reason Carrie escaped is that she passes out at the sight of blood."

"What would you have done otherwise?"

"Carpentry, I guess." Matt looked as if he expected Benny to make fun of him, but Benny just smiled.

"Well, as an orthopedic surgeon you still get to play around with hammers, saws and screws, right?"

"Yeah, but all the gore and screaming can get distracting," Matt grinned.

"Seriously, do you enjoy what you do?"

Matt nodded without hesitation. "Yes, I do. It's not always fun or pretty, and a lot of it is fairly standard stuff that anybody with a couple of years' experience could manage, but every now and then I get to make a real difference, you know?"

"Sure."

They sat silently for a while and Benny realized with some surprise that Matt could actually be a restful presence. Most of the time Benny was on edge around him, not necessarily in a bad way, just too aware of him, so that it felt almost impossible to behave naturally. And yet, for the most part Matt had been friendly and open, the few hours after their first meeting notwithstanding.

"Ben, may I smoke?"

After a moment's hesitation, Benny got up and brought Matt an ashtray. He'd never smoked, not cigarettes at any rate, but Phil had been a pack-a-day smoker, and there were still plenty of ashtrays around. Benny had given away very little after Phil's death; his clothes to the Salvation Army and his family photo albums to Liz, but otherwise everything in the apartment had belonged to them both and was still where they'd both placed it. Only the TV was new.

Matt had noticed his hesitation.

"If it bothers you..."

"No, it's fine. Really."

It was just that he wasn't sure he wanted anybody else using Phil's ashtray. Even after seven years. Leaning back in his chair, one hand curled around his wine glass, he watched Matt light up; he didn't realize how tense he was until Matt flicked his ash, and then it was suddenly okay. Feeling slightly ridiculous, he rolled his shoulders, relaxing them.

"Are you working tomorrow?"

"I'm covering an ER rotation in the evening. Saturday nights are a bitch."

"Well, if you don't need to get up early, would you like to watch another film?"

Matt looked surprised, but pleased. "Sure. I'll help you clean up first."

After a while, they were ensconced in the living room, watching 'The Producers'. It wasn't one of Benny's favorites, but Matt had picked it, because he'd seen the re-make and he wanted to compare. Matt was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch. Benny opted for the couch itself, and was lying on his side propped up against the arm. He spent more time gazing at Matt's profile, the line of his jaw, how he threw back his head when he laughed, than at the TV. After a while he allowed his hand to stroke through Matt's hair, curling the bright strands around his fingers, tugging at them gently. Matt turned his head and smiled at him, but otherwise didn't react, so Benny continued. He tried to breathe evenly and concentrate on the movie; he knew what Matt was expecting after it ended, and he wanted it too, God, did he want it, but he'd never brought anybody to the apartment before. He tried to tell himself that it was like the ashtray; it would be okay once they got started. And they'd stay in the living room. Hell, his couch was sturdier than Matt's, and they'd done fine there.

The characteristic sound of a Zippo opening and closing startled him out of his thoughts.

"Those things will kill you," he chided. "You're a doctor, you should know better."

"I do know better. But, hell, pretty much everything can kill you these days. Just crossing the street can kill you."

"That's right, it can," Benny responded calmly after a few seconds. He was rather pleased by how normal his voice had sounded. After all, people said stuff like that all the time.

"Ben? What is it?"

Matt had twisted around to look at him, and Benny saw the concern in his eyes, but didn't understand it.

"What do you mean? Nothing." He tried to smile. "Everything's fine."

"Are you sure? You look..." Matt shrugged one shoulder, as if unable to find the right word to describe how Benny looked.

"I'm fine," Benny repeated. 

He hadn't realized he was rubbing his chest until Matt's fingers touched his knuckles lightly.

"Are you in pain?"

Benny shook his hand off, and stood up. "I said I'm fine," he snapped. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and looked around, as if he could find the excuse he needed to stop the movie and get Matt to leave hiding somewhere in the room.

He didn't have to think very long. Matt reached for the remote control himself, then stood up and came to stand in front of Benny. Hands in pockets, he mirrored Benny's stance, only his shoulders were relaxed and not hunched up around his ears, like Benny's.

"Ben, how did your partner die?"

"Listen, I think it's time y–"

"Tell me."

Benny sighed. "Crossing the street," he said, his lips stretching into a grin that he somehow couldn't suppress, even though nothing struck him as even remotely funny. He gave a short laugh. "Crossing the fucking street."

Matt sucked in his breath.

"Jesus, Ben, I'm sorry. I had no idea. I wouldn't have–"

"Why do you call me Ben? Nobody calls me that," Benny interrupted tiredly, turning away from Matt. 

They'd finished the bottle of wine, and opening another one suddenly seemed like a great idea. He wandered into the kitchen and pulled a bottle out of the rack, then decided that taking the cork out was too much damn work, so he opened the fridge and got himself a beer instead. He popped the tin open and drank deeply.

"I guess I thought only the people who knew you when you were a kid called you Benny. And Carrie, because of Roger." Matt had followed him into the kitchen and was leaning against the door frame, hands still in his pockets.

Benny propped a hip against the counter. "You're right. The rest call me Benjamin." Why was he even having this fucking inane discussion? "Would you like a beer?"

"No, thanks. I probably should get going."

They stared at each other across the kitchen, and Benny felt a slight stirring, a faint echo of how he'd felt before, when he'd been lying on the couch and touching Matt's hair, but mostly he just felt exhausted, like he had when he'd been fresh from the hospital.

"It's late," he agreed.

He walked Matt to the door and waited while he put on his jacket and wound a brightly colored scarf that clashed with his hair around his neck, then opened the door to let him out. Matt hesitated, then turned to face Benny and covered Benny's hand on the door handle with one of his own.

"I'm sorry about what I said. It was thoughtless."

Benny shrugged. "It's alright. You couldn't have known," he assured Matt woodenly.

Matt's breast rose and fell in a soundless sigh. He leaned over and kissed Benny lightly on the lips. "Goodnight, Benjamin," he murmured, then kissed him again and walked out.

Benny watched him until the elevator dinged and its door slid open, but Matt only looked back once he was inside, and he gave Benny a small wave right before the door shut again.

*******************

"If the Jets blow this, I'm getting me to a nunnery," Roger proclaimed dramatically, rubbing the bill of his cap.

"Roger, will you please take that stupid cap off? And maybe, I don't know, burn it?"

"Hey, this cap got us to the AFC East playoffs twice in the last four years. Where are the snacks?"

Benny shook his head in exasperation. "Right in front of you."

"Carrot and celery sticks? And what the fuck is this? Plain popcorn? You're shitting me, right?"

"This is all healthy stuff. Your arteries will thank me," Benny said piously, taking a carrot and crunching on it.

"My foot will kick your ass if you don't break out the real snacks."

"Fine. I was going to offer juice or water, but I suppose you want a beer, as well."

"Damn straight. And none of that imported or micro-brewery swill you favor, either."

They watched the Jets quarterback get sacked twice in the first half and railed at the defense. After the Jets fumbled the ball a third time and Roger figured that even his lucky cap wouldn't save the game, he started commenting on the players' butts, which Benny thought was wrong in more ways than he could count. 

"Roger, for the love of God, please stop trying to bond with me. You're creeping me out."

"I thought maybe Matt would be here," Roger said during half time, crunching on a celery stick dipped in peanut butter.

"Stop eating my snacks, man. You've got your own."

"No, this is surprisingly tasty and I'm not even pregnant, I don't think. So. Matt?"

Benny shrugged. "He's not into football."

"I see."

Roger could load a lot of meaning onto one of his I-see's and it always drove Benny crazy. He lasted through two commercials.

"What do you see, Roger?"

"You guys looked like you were into each other at the wedding. Then, you brought me back the DVD he'd abducted, which means you saw each other after that happy occasion. Now I ask you a simple question, and a natural one, given that the guy lives about five blocks away and one could assume that maybe you hang out together sometimes, and you get all tense and evasive."

"I do not get all tense and evasive."

"I see."

"Oh, fuck you, Roger."

Roger tried a carrot with peanut butter and hummed in appreciation. "I have to tell Carrie about these."

"I'm sure she already knows."

"So, why are you tense and evasive when I ask you about Matt?"

Benny sighed.

"I don't know. He's okay, I guess. It's just that we don't have a hell of a lot in common. Plus he's a lot younger."

"A lot younger? Benny, he's what, seven years younger than you?"

"He doesn't like football or baseball," Benny said defensively. "And he doesn't like Mel Brooks."

"I see."

"What? What the hell do you see?"

Roger unexpectedly turned the TV off and turned to face Benny, his face serious.

"Benny. You know I don't like coming at my friends from my professional capacity, especially when they clearly don't want me to do so, but I can't just sit and watch this train wreck any more."

Benny's fists clenched. "What train wreck? What are you talking about?"

"Phil hated Mel Brooks."

"That's because he only saw 'Men in Tights' and 'Space Balls'. Honestly–"

"Benny!" Roger thundered, interrupting him, and Benny gaped. Except when watching football or baseball, Roger raised his voice in anger about once a decade. "The point isn't why he hated Mel Brooks. The point is that he did. Just like you hate opera and the Nutcracker. And yet, you have tickets again this season, don't you?"

Benny swallowed, then slowly nodded.

"You have to move on, Benny. You have to let Phil go, and move on."

"I have," Benny whispered, because it was hard to talk louder around the lump in his throat. He stared at the blank TV screen. "We're missing the game."

"Tell me that Matt bores you, Benny. Tell me that you don't like his looks, or that he's no good in the sack, but do not fucking tell me that he doesn't like football or Mel Brooks."

Benny bit his lip. He couldn't tell Roger what he wanted to hear, because the few times he'd been with Matt, beautiful Matt, time had flown, and the sex had been incredible, better than what he remembered with anybody else, even Phil, and that just couldn't be right.

"Listen, Roger, I know you mean well. But you're way off base here."

"Did you ever even cry for Phil, Benny?"

"Not everybody does, you know. What a fucking cliché."

"Have you spoken to Liz since the funeral?"

"Of course I have. I love Liz."

"I don't mean exchanging birthday calls and Christmas visits. Have you talked to her about Phil, remembered him with her?"

"What do you want from me? Everybody grieves differently, you say that yourself. Anyway, I got over Phil's death years ago."

"No, Benny, you got an ulcer. That's what you got."

"Fuck you."

"Stop trying to live up to what your father thought a man is. There are no prizes for repressing your emotions, for pretending to be fine when you're not, for not acknowledging pain and loss or not sharing it with your friends. Even Will Kane needed somebody to stand by him and share the burden."

"I think we can say pretty conclusively that I did not try to live up to what Dad thought a man is," Benny retorted.

"No, and since you couldn't help that part, you overcompensate in every other way." 

"Why are we even discussing this now? We're supposed to be watching the game. What happened, did Matt say something to you?"

"Why, was there something for him to say?"

"No," Benny muttered.

Roger leaned over and grasped Benny's knee.

"Phil's gone, Benny. He's been gone a long time. It's okay if you forget some details about him, or if you start to have feelings about someone else. You're not hurting him or being disloyal by doing so."

Benny's eyes were starting to burn, and his jaw was aching. He shook his head stubbornly, staring down at Roger's hand.

"I should have said something a long time ago, but in a way it didn't matter. It does now, though."

"Why? Why now?" 

"Partly because of the ulcer. And partly because... Well, because I never liked Jordan, not for you, but I saw how you looked at him all those years ago. And I saw how you looked at Phil, even when the two of you were in the middle of a fight about something, and I knew that the moment I was gone, you'd start arguing again."

"Yeah, so?" Benny asked thickly, when Roger didn't continue.

Roger squeezed his knee. "You look at Matt the same way, Benny. Don't you realize that?"

"You're wrong."

"No."

"You've never seen us together."

"I saw you at the rehearsal dinner, once you got too drunk to keep your guard up. We took you upstairs, and I was trying to joke with you, but you were totally focused on him; it was like you didn't even know I was there. I saw you the next morning, over breakfast. I saw your face when you were dancing with him."

"Lust," Benny conceded. "That's all, pure and simple. I don't even know him."

"Okay," Roger said, but he didn't look convinced. "So get to know him. Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance."

Benny shut his eyes. His heart was racing, and for a while he thought it was because he was angry at Roger; then he realized that he was afraid, though of what exactly he couldn't say.

"Can we watch the game now?"

Roger leaned back and picked up the remote control. "Fine," he sighed. "Let's watch the goddamned game."



No Other Life than This Ch. 05



It had been gray and drizzling the entire week, the kind of weather that drove Benny up the fucking wall, and by Saturday afternoon he had a severe case of cabin fever and went out running regardless of the rain. At first the run felt rough, his limbs and breathing uncoordinated, but by the time he'd reached the Reservoir loop, he'd smoothed into a fluid rhythm. He started pacing himself off a runner in long tights and a hooded windbreaker about 200 feet ahead of him, figuring that if they both maintained a steady speed, he'd catch up with him half way around the loop. 

The man reached up and pushed his hood down, and Benny saw the titian mop and realized it was Matt. He briefly debated slowing down and dropping back, getting off the loop before Matt saw him. In the end he sped up. It had been close to a month since he'd last seen Matt and they hadn't spoken in the interim. Thanksgiving was that coming Thursday, and Benny suddenly wondered how Matt was spending it; Roger and Carrie had left on their deferred honeymoon and wouldn't be back until the first week of December. 

"Hey, Matt."

Matt didn't respond, and Benny realized he had on earphones, so he covered the final three steps between them and repeated the greeting, touching Matt lightly on the upper arm. Matt almost stumbled, then regained his stride.

"Hey," he said, with a friendly smile, pulling one of the ear buds out.

"I'm sorry I startled you."

"No problem."

"How've you been?"

"Okay. Busy."

"Yeah, me too." 

It wasn't exactly a lie, though there were also too many hours when he'd done nothing but stare blankly at a wall or at the ceiling. He'd never felt lonely before, and it wasn't really loneliness he was feeling now, he didn't think. It was just that after his talk with Roger he'd become aware of certain empty spaces in his life, of moments when he reached out for something he thought was there, only to find that it wasn't.

"Going to your parents for Thanksgiving?"

"No. I'm working Thursday and Friday and I'm on call the rest of the weekend, so I need to stay here. What about you? Any plans?"

"Not really. I'll be around." Benny's parents were now living in Palm Beach, and there were only so many visits he could stand. He especially avoided seeing them on holidays or any other supposedly festive occasion, when the combined weight of his father's disapproval and his mother's worry were at their worst.

They split in order to run on either side of a deeper puddle, then veered back towards each other. 

"Would you like to come over for dinner on Thursday?" Benny asked a little diffidently. "If you have time, that is."

"That sounds nice, Benjamin. Thank you. I'm off at five, so I could make it after that, if it's not too late."

"No, that's fine. Turkey okay?"

"Perfect," Matt grinned. "Absolutely perfect."

They ran in companionable silence for a while, dodging puddles and slower runners.

"Are you doing anything this afternoon?" Matt asked suddenly.

"I'm meeting friends for dinner in a couple of hours."

"Oh. Okay."

"Do you want to come along?" Benny invited impulsively. "We're just going down to this place in Chinatown."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. It's just some old buddies of mine. We'll probably bore you to death, but the food is worth it."

*******************

Benny used to see a lot more of Henry and Jon and Jake and Michael back when he'd also been half of a couple. The six of them had been practically inseparable, dropping by each other's apartments, scheduling vacations and weekend trips together. After Phil's death they'd slowly drifted apart; not only Benny, who had become the proverbial fifth wheel, but the other two couples, as well, as if it had been Phil who'd kept them all together. Which was strange, because Henry, Jon and Michael had been Benny's friends originally; if Henry and Jon hadn't suggested Fire Island that Memorial Day weekend, Benny and Phil would have never met.

Benny hadn't even thought about how the other four might react to his bringing somebody with him for the first time after seven years. Not that they'd expected him to remain single, in fact the first years, and after what they'd considered was a sufficient and respectable period of mourning, they'd done their best to find someone for him. Still, Benny saw how they looked at each other as he made the introductions, how Michael cocked his head, pursed his lips and openly studied Matt, while Henry was motioning for the waiter to bring another chair. He wished he'd come alone, like the previous years. Actually, no, he didn't. He wished he hadn't come here at all, and that Matt and he had gone for pizza.

Matt didn't seem to notice anything amiss or awkward; he sat next to Benny, looking completely at ease, as if he'd been hanging out with the guys for years. Before long he was joking with Jon about the Knicks, and spinning the Lazy Susan every time Henry tried to reach for something on it, though to be fair, Henry had started that game.

"So, how long has this been going on, Benjamin?" Michael murmured leaning against Benny, his lips almost touching Benny's ear.

"There's nothing going on. Matt is Roger's brother and he just moved here."

"If you say so," Michael said. "He's adorable."

"Puppies and babies are adorable, Michael. Hulking 6'6" forty-year old men, not so much."

"Oh, piffle. Look at that sweet smile. Adorable, I tell you!"

Benny ignored him.

"Why are you glowering?" Matt asked him from his other side, as he leaned over and snatched the last prawn dumpling from right under Benny's chopsticks, so Benny ignored him, too.

"Does anybody feel like going to The Monster?" Jon asked once dinner was finally over and Benny was already mentally on the subway headed uptown. Matt looked intrigued.

"Oh, God, everybody's so old there," Michael moaned.

"As opposed to you, my spring chicken," Jake mocked. "Michael and I are in."

"Benny? Matt?"

Benny opened his mouth to refuse, but Matt beat him to it.

"Yeah, we're in."

He looked so happy that Benny didn't have the heart to make his objections known. The other four were already splitting back into their usual sets of two; Benny didn't want Matt to feel left out or awkward.

When they reached the club, Matt didn't go in right away.

"You go on ahead. I just want to smoke a cigarette," he told them, but Benny hung back, as well.

"Seriously, you don't need to keep me company. It's cold out here."

Benny suddenly felt a surge of affection for Matt, for how simple he made things, for how easily he got along with Benny's friends, for his freckles and wide smile and floppy hair, and for how he didn't seem to realize that his scarf was hideous. He stood in front of Matt and slid his hand half-way around Matt's waist, holding him lightly and smiling up at him.

"What?" Matt asked.

"Nothing. I hope you're having a good time."

"I am. Why? Are we on a date, Benjamin?"

Every so often there was a teasing curl to Matt's voice when he called Benny Benjamin, an almost imperceptible emphasis of the first syllable.

"Maybe," Benny hedged.

"Does that mean that you'll take me home and fuck me afterwards?"

"Unless you have a three-date rule."

Matt grinned. "Haven't you been counting, Benjamin? This is our third date. Besides, I already put out on the first one."

Benny took a step closer, plastering himself against Matt, and bumped him gently with his hips. "Do you really want to go inside? Maybe we can come back another time?"

"Okay," Matt said and he kissed Benny, his mouth hard and hungry. "What about your friends?"

"I'll text them from the cab."

*******************

The first time Benny had been to Matt's apartment, he'd never made it into the bedroom. He stared at the enormous platform bed with the built-in nightstands, which was piled high with pillows and a fluffy comforter. Clearly Matt was prepared to make certain exceptions to his functional decoration rules.

"Wow."

"California King, baby," Matt grinned, spinning gracefully and jumping backwards onto the bed, his arms stretched out. The comforter billowed out as he landed and bounced slightly. He propped himself up on his elbows. "I had to pay the movers an arm and a leg to get this up here. You like?"

"Oh, yeah," Benny said. "A lot." He kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, straddling Matt's body. "The sheets are nice, too."

"Mmm. People always make the mistake of buying dark colors, but I find light colors are much more practical."

"Calming and restful," Benny said with a straight face, as he began to unbutton Matt's shirt.

"Don't show certain stains quite as much."

"What about the thread count?" Benny asked. He pushed the shirt aside and bent down to lick and suck at Matt's collarbone. Then he followed a random meandering path along the lightly freckled skin to arrive at Matt's left nipple.

"Well, it's not only the count... oh, yeah... that counts... It... It's also... uh... the weave."

Benny bit the small nub lightly, then sucked some more. Meanwhile his fingers followed the center ridge of Matt's abdomen down to his belly button and he traced small circles around it.

"The weave?" he asked, then moved to Matt's other nipple.

"Yeah. Like... percale. Or... uh, fuck... flannel."

Benny turned his attention to unbuckling Matt's belt and unbuttoning the waistband. Matt raised his hips and Benny shoved all the clothing out of the way, then stripped and resumed his position straddling Matt. Matt's dick was already hard, and Benny spared it a long appreciative look, but he was more taken by Matt's face, by the color burning along his cheekbones and the excitement in his eyes.

"Any preferences as to fitted or flat bottom sheets?"

He licked down the same path his fingers had followed earlier, and dipped into Matt's belly button. The damp tip of Matt's swollen cock touched the hollow of his throat and he turned to nuzzle into it, breathing in Matt's smell, his own erection almost painful.

"Suck me," Matt demanded, obviously no longer interested in discussing the merits of sheets, and then, confusingly. "Come up here."

Benny briefly debated which of the two instructions to follow, but he was closer to Matt's dick, so he decided on the first. He licked the precum off the head, then took the hard shaft in his mouth, covering his teeth with his lips so that he could apply pressure on his way down, his tongue a hard point dragging along the underside.

"Oh, fuck!" Matt shouted, his hips arching off the bed. His voice was already starting to break a little, and Benny would have smiled if he could. He raised his head, his lips and tongue slack and wet, then drove down again with the same tight pressure as before, taking Matt a little deeper.

"Come up here," Matt repeated, curling up to push and pull at Benny's body, making it obvious that he wanted at Benny's cock. Benny twisted around and lay on his side, his hands guiding Matt's hips so that Matt rolled to face him. He didn't have as much range of motion as before, so he wrapped his arms around the back of Matt's thighs and applied more suction and saliva but less friction. Matt didn't seem to mind the change and was writhing against him, his hands restlessly caressing Benny's lower back, ass and thighs, his breath small gasps of hot air against Benny's belly and cock. Benny flexed his hips, trying to remind Matt of why they were lying head-to-crotch.

Matt started to tremble, and Benny loosened his hold to allow more movement. He palmed Matt's ass, the tips of his fingers tracing along the crack, both middle fingers pushing a little against Matt's hole.

"Ben," Matt moaned, pressing his face into the crease of Benny's hip, still lacking either the concentration or the motor skills to reciprocate the favor of a blow job. He went rigid, as if he couldn't decide whether to shove himself onto Benny's fingers or into his mouth.

"Come on, handsome," Benny mumbled around Matt's cock, and he doubted his words were intelligible, but Matt's hips snapped forward, once, twice, and on the third time he spurted into Benny's mouth. Benny stroked him, gentling him, and he felt the tense muscles relax as Matt's cock softened. 

Matt rolled onto his back.

"I love your mouth," he sighed, sounding sleepy.

Benny propped himself up on an elbow, and lay his hand on Matt's hip.

"You're not falling asleep, are you?"

"I am rather tired, Benjamin," Matt said in a prissy voice, and flipped over onto his stomach.

Benny bent down to kiss the small of Matt's back and lick a wet trail right to the top of his crack. He blew on the wet spot softly, and smiled when Matt shivered and let out a small moan.

"Okay, you sleep then. I'll try not to bother you too much."

He sat back on his heels and looked around. One or the other of the nightstands had to contain lube and condoms.

"Left drawer," he heard Matt's voice, and his grin broadened.

After preparing them both, he lay on Matt's back, bracing his hands against Matt's shoulders. He hooked his ankles around Matt's and forced his legs apart. Matt's body was soft and pliant, and Benny pushed in slowly, breaking out in goose bumps at the pure bliss of sinking into that tight heat. 

"God, Matt," he whispered into the skin between Matt's shoulder blades. Matt arched his head back and inhaled deeply, and Benny shifted his weight, so that he could grab a handful of Matt's hair and pull his head back further. "So fucking good." He rocked into Matt with a slow, even rhythm, drawing out his pleasure, concentrating on the feeling of Matt's body against his, on the small sounds Matt made as he started to fight a little against how Benny was holding him pinned down with his head arched back, on the muscles alternately squeezing and releasing his dick as he drove it deeper into Matt.

"Let me up," Matt moaned, fighting harder after a while. "Let me up, goddamn you." 

Benny released his hair and shifted both hands onto the mattress and Matt bucked underneath him, shoving himself up onto his knees, his chest still on the bed, sobbing a little.

"Matt?" Benny whispered. "Are you okay?"

Matt pushed his ass back into Benny, his knees sliding wider apart. "Need more," he muttered. "Harder."

Benny curled his fingers around Matt's hips and slammed into him.

"Like that?"

"Yeah. Again."

Benny lost track of time; they might have been fucking for minutes or hours. His whole world was the shock that reverberated through his entire body every time every time he surged forward, the muted sound of their flesh slapping together, the heat spreading up his spine and along every single nerve, until his muscles locked.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, making an ultimate effort to bury himself as deeply into Matt as he could, and then he started jerking, spilling his seed. He fell on Matt and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding on as his muscles contracted again and again. Afterwards, he rested his head on Matt's back, closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. 

When Matt flopped onto his side and stretched out, Benny rolled with him, one arm trapped under Matt's body. He used his free hand to push Matt's hair off his neck and he kissed the skin he'd uncovered, then lay quietly, his lips against Matt's nape. At some point Matt was going to move or kick him out, but until then Benny intended to stay put.

He woke up to sunlight, an empty bed and Matt cursing under his breath.

"What's wrong?" he asked drowsily.

"Forgot to set the alarm clock. I need to be at the hospital in 15 minutes."

Benny fought against the enveloping comforter in an effort to sit up. Matt was already in scrubs and sitting at the foot of the bed tying his shoelaces. He jumped up a second later and turned to look at Benny, at the same time unsuccessfully trying to finger comb his hair into some semblance of order. Benny couldn't help grinning.

"I'll see you Thursday, yeah?" Matt asked.

"Yes."

"Okay. Gotta run. Just pull the door shut behind you."

A second later Matt was gone. Feeling a little numb, Benny sank back into the bed. In a way, he was relieved that the morning after had been resolved so simply. But a kiss and a cuddle, maybe even a blowjob, would have been nice. And Thursday was too damn far away.

*******************

On Monday Matt forwarded Benny a 'Wizard of Id' strip about a turkey and they ended up exchanging IMs. On Wednesday they ran into each other at the entrance of Central Park, Benny having just finished his run and Matt on his way in, and stood talking for a quarter of an hour. 

Thanksgiving Day Matt called Benny an hour before he was due to arrive.

"It doesn't look like I'm gonna make it, Benjamin."

"Okay," Benny responded evenly. He stood in the middle of his messy kitchen, phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder, polishing a glass. Then it sunk in that he didn't need to set the table any more, and he set the glass down carefully. "Why?"

"They brought in these kids half an hour ago. On their way back from a meet, the driver lost control of the bus when a tire blew. None of them were wearing seatbelts, and three of them sustained fairly serious injuries. We're prepping for surgery now. I doubt I'll be done here before midnight." Matt sighed. "I'm sorry I couldn't have let you know earlier."

"Don't worry about it. We can do this another time." It was a stupid thing to say, as if Thanksgiving was going to come along next week again, but Benny was still fighting with how disappointed he felt.

"Yeah. Look, I– Wait, hold on." Benny heard him telling someone to put something up so that he could look at it, then he was back. "I need to go. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Take care." But Benny was pretty sure that Matt had already hung up.

The turkey still needed half an hour and, since he'd started, he might as well finish preparing the mashed potatoes. Before sitting down to dinner, he cleaned up the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine.

Ever since he'd issued the invitation, he'd flipped back and forth on an almost hourly basis on how he would handle the situation once dinner was over. Especially after Saturday night, there was no doubt in his mind that he not only wanted Matt, he wanted Matt in his bed. The only problem he couldn't solve was what to do with Phil's photo. He couldn't imagine fucking Matt with Phil looking on – even though Phil would have enjoyed that type of thing when he was alive, would even have joined in – and when he'd tried removing the photo from the nightstand, he couldn't figure out where to put it, because its place was there, where it was the first thing Benny saw when he woke up. At some point, he'd tried laying the photo face down, but that was just asinine, and the kind of thing that would have made him laugh if he'd seen it in a movie. In the end, he'd left the photo in its place and stuck the lube and condoms under the couch. No need to worry about the where and how of fucking Matt anymore, at least not tonight; a blown tire had put paid to that.

After dinner, Benny stored the leftovers and polished off the rest of the bottle while re-watching 'Planes, Trains and Automobiles' on TV. Once it was over, he figured it was late enough that he could legitimately go to bed without it being a sign that he was feeling depressed.

*******************

At first the buzzer was part of Benny's dream; once he realized it was real, he decided to ignore it, sure that Hector at the front desk had made a mistake. When the intercom buzzed a third time, he got up.

"Mr. Siegel, I'm sorry to bother you at one o'clock in the morning, but there's a Dr. Nolan here insisting to see you." 

Hector, an old-fashioned gentleman with a strong sense of decorum and voice that was getting louder the closer he got to retirement, sounded both disapproving and concerned, and Benny couldn't resist. 




No Other Life than This Ch. 05



"Dr. Nolan? A short, bald guy?"

"No, Mr. Siegel, this guy is real tall with sort of, uh, carrot-colored hair."

"Oh, that Dr. Nolan. Yeah, it's okay, you can send him on up. " 

"My hair is not carrot-colored," Matt growled by way of greeting when Benny opened the door.

"What would you call it then?"

"Reddish blond, I guess."

Benny snorted and stood aside to let Matt in.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just got out of surgery, and I need to be back in the hospital in about seven hours."

"Uh huh."

"I didn't get any dinner and it's Thanksgiving. Was Thanksgiving." 

Matt managed to look both hopeful and pathetic at the same time and Benny bit back a smile. He moved towards the kitchen.

"I can warm something up for you. Or I can make you a sandwich," he offered over his shoulder. "What would you prefer?"

"Could you maybe warm something up for me and also make me a sandwich for tomorrow?"

"You're pushing your luck."

Matt sighed. "Something warm, please." He sat at the kitchen table, propped his chin on his hand and watched while Benny prepared a plate for him and stuck it in the microwave. 

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Water's fine, thanks."

When Benny slid the plate in front of him, Matt caught his wrist. He didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, just looked up at Benny, his hazel eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion. Benny reached with his free hand and stroked through Matt's hair.

"What?"

"This was really presumptuous of me. But I wanted to see you."

"Titian."

"Huh?"

"Your hair color. It's what I thought the first time I ever saw you, on the train."

Benny watched Matt's expression as it changed from surprise to amusement and finally to something gentle and warm, and then he had to look away.

"I wanted to see you, too," he said gruffly, pulling away from Matt's loose grasp. He went back to the counter. "Would you prefer mayonnaise or mustard? For your sandwich."

"Mustard, please."

Matt moaned appreciatively after the first bite. "Oh, wow, this is really good. Better than my mom's, though I will deny having said that." He wolfed the rest of the food down and Benny would have worried about indigestion, except that he'd now seen Matt around food enough times to know that he was the fastest eater he'd ever met. Probably came from trying to squeeze in meals as a resident.

Benny wrapped Matt's sandwich and put it on the table. Then he realized that by doing so, he was telling Matt that he expected him to take it and go, so he picked it up again to put it in the refrigerator. But that was assuming that Matt was staying over, which he hadn't actually given any indication of planning to do. Benny stood at the fridge, one hand on the handle, trying to decide how to handle the stupid sandwich, when he heard the chair scrape against the floor behind him, and then Matt's arms wound around his waist.

"You smell good," Matt whispered into his ear, then nuzzled his face into Benny's neck.

Benny set the sandwich on the counter, laid his hands on Matt's, and leaned back, resting his head against Matt's shoulder.

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

Benny opened the fridge door. 

"Yeah."

He didn't even think of the photo until later, after Matt had undressed and slipped into the bed next to him, after he'd turned onto his side and pulled Matt's back against his chest, after Matt had started to snore, his body warm, solid and relaxed in Benny's arms. Moving with care so as not to disturb him, he unwound himself from Matt and sat up on the side of the bed, looking at the photo, angling it a little towards the light coming in from hallway, even though he knew all the details by heart, the sparkle of Phil's earring, the small bruise peeking from his collar where Benny had sucked up a hickey the night before, the slight squint he always developed when he'd drunk a little bit too much.

"You know I loved you, right? We didn't get to say goodbye, but you know that, right?" he murmured to Phil, but Phil just laughed on, leaning his head against Benny's, forever forty, the same age as Matt now. "Time for you two to go in an album," he told Phil and his own younger self. "Time for all of us to move on." He picked up the frame, running a finger along its smooth edges, then placed it in the nightstand drawer.

"Ben? Is everything alright?"

Matt had rolled over to face him. Benny lay down and reached for one of Matt's hands, twining their fingers together.

"Everything's fine," he confirmed, and kissed the palm of Matt's hand.

"Good," Matt said sleepily and a second later he was snoring again.

Benny didn't sleep. At some point he gentled Matt into rolling over, so that he could spoon against his back and hold him again. Every so often his eyes started leaking, and he didn't understand it, because he wasn't sad; eventually he just let the tears flow, trying to keep his breath even, so that Matt wouldn't wake up, but Matt did.

"Ben?"

"It's okay. Go back to sleep."

Matt rolled onto his back, pulled Benny into his arms and kissed the top of his head.

"Do you need me to leave?"

"No."

Matt didn't say anything else or ask Benny what was wrong. He stroked Benny's back, his palms warm against Benny's skin, until Benny had stopped crying and had mopped his tears and snot off his face and Matt's chest with the sheet, then they lay quietly, Benny occasionally sniffling.

"Do you have any pie?" Matt asked suddenly. "I really feel like a slice of pie right now."

"It's five thirty in the morning."

"So what?" Matt set Benny aside and got up. "If I happen to find any dessert in the fridge, should I come back with one spoon or two?"

Benny sighed. "Two. And it's pecan pie, so forks will probably work better."

He'd expected Matt to bring two slices, but instead he returned with the entire pie. They sat cross-legged on the bed, facing each other, their knees touching, and ate the whole thing, except for about three bites, which Matt declared he was saving for breakfast.

"Thanks for dinner, Benjamin," Matt said afterwards, leaning over to kiss Benny.

"You make fun of me every time you say my name, don't you?"

Matt grinned. "Not every time." Suddenly he yawned, a wide, jaw-cracking yawn that made Benny feel guilty for keeping him awake.

"What time are you due at the hospital?"

"Eight thirty latest."

Benny pushed lightly at his chest, so that he lay back.

"That means you can sleep for at least two more hours. Do you think you can manage?"

"Ben, any doctor worth his salt can fall asleep in two seconds flat, if they put their mind to it." He pulled Benny down onto his chest again. "Race you," he murmured.

Benny wasn't sure who won.

*******************

Between Thanksgiving and Christmas they seemed to be slipping into a closer relationship, although neither of them acknowledged it in so many words or made a big deal about it. They met for runs, purposely now. Matt dragged Benny to a hockey game. Benny taught Matt how to flip an omelet and how to make pancakes from scratch. They no longer looked for specific excuses to show up at each other's home, nor for permission to spend the night with each other.

Benny knew that he was falling in love in the same slow and quiet way he had in the past, only this time he was aware of it happening. He didn't know where things would lead, or if Matt was feeling the same way, and he didn't let himself think too far into the future.

Jordie called him to wish him a Merry Christmas. He was going to spend the holidays with David at a ski resort in Austria.

"You don't ski," Benny reminded him; Jordie had spent four winters in New Hampshire and his closest voluntary contact with any winter sport had been tray-sledding in the golf course once.

"No, but I après-ski on a professional level."

Benny could hear the smile in Jordie's voice.

"So it's going well."

"Yeah."

"I'm seeing someone too," Benny said, struggling a little with the words. "Roger's brother."

"The guy they were trying to set you up with?"

"Yes."

Jordie laughed. "Good thing I was otherwise occupied that weekend, then, huh?"

"I'm still mad at you about that, dickhead. You could have spared a couple of hours to help me out."

"Yeah, but where would you be now? Is it serious?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"That's good, Benny. If it's serious, I mean. Or even if it isn't."

"Jordie, did you ever think about the two of us? About maybe ending up together at some point?"

Jordie was quiet for a while and Benny traced a finger along a small gouge in his kitchen table, where he'd dropped the blender after one or five daiquiris too many during a party years ago.

"Yes. But it wouldn't have worked out."

"Why not?"

"Because you were right, Benny. We fucked once a year, and that was more because of the past than the present or any future we might have been thinking of."

"I don't think about the future now, either."

"No?"

"Sometimes," Benny admitted. Sometimes, when he watched Matt watching a movie, or when he saw his bright hair turn dark in the shower, or when Matt was stretched out beneath him, long legs and arms wrapped around him, sweaty and sated and half-asleep.

"Merry Christmas, Benny," Jordie said quietly. "Why don't you plan on a trip to Greece at some point next year? I'd like to show you around, and we've got plenty of room."

"Thanks, Jordie. A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you, as well. Have fun après-skiing."

Jordie chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure I will."



No Other Life than This Ch. 06



Matt didn't always smile, but his bad moods generally lasted less than a few hours, so Benny wasn't too concerned when Matt snapped at him for being a couple of minutes late for their meeting in front of the cinema, or when he later declared that the movie had been stupid, glaring at Benny, as if Benny had been the one to suggest it. Normally a bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries and onion rings at Jackson Hole were enough to set him right, but while he inhaled everything in the time it took Benny to eat half his Bronco Burger and then started stealing Benny's fries, he remained morose and uncommunicative.

"Is something wrong?" Benny asked finally, as he stood waiting for Matt to light his cigarette outside the restaurant. They could walk home together for four blocks, but after that the ways split, and Benny wasn't sure what would happen at that point, so he was fine with stalling.

Matt inhaled the smoke deeply and didn't meet Benny's eyes.

"No," he said shortly.

Matt sometimes liked being coaxed into things he really wanted to do in the first place: a third helping of ice-cream, a blowjob in the shower when he needed to be out the door in twenty minutes, telling Benny about a bad case at the hospital and then playing Wii Tennis with him. Benny didn't think this was one of those times; if it had been, Matt would have looked at him when he answered, would still be waiting for Benny to ask him again rather than already five steps away from him. Benny had to jog to catch up.

They reached the corner where their ways might diverge, and Matt hesitated, hunching into his jacket. He faced Benny, but his eyes were glued to a spot somewhere over Benny's left shoulder.

"I think I'm going to head on home, Benjamin. I've got a long day ahead of me tomorrow."

"Okay."

"I'll call you."

Benny nodded, fighting the urge to grab Matt and force him to tell him what was wrong.

"Matt--"

He never got a chance to finish his sentence. Matt leaned forward, kissed him hard on the mouth and then turned on his heel and headed down the block towards his apartment.

Matt didn't call Benny the next day, or the day after that. Benny sent him a jokey e-mail, but he didn't respond to it, nor to Benny's attempt to IM him. By the third day, Benny was pissed and by the fourth he was trying to convince himself that he was indifferent, and that he didn't care if he spent Christmas, only two days away, on his own, just like the past years. 

*******************

"What are you doing for New Year's Eve?" Roger asked.

"Coming to your house just like every year. Aren't I?"

"Oh, sure. I'm having the usual shindig. Carrie tried to suggest something else, but resistance is futile. She will be assimilated."

"It's nice to see you working at the marriage and making all the necessary compromises. A real inspiration."

"Listen, bub, I'm making plenty of compromises." And he sounded deliriously happy to be doing so. "I was actually checking whether maybe you had other plans."

"No. Why?"

"Matt mentioned something about LA to Carrie."

Benny swallowed against something hard and cold that lodged itself in his throat. Matt had finally called him on Christmas Eve to tell him that he was covering for a colleague in the ER. No, he didn't know how many shifts, because the colleague had the flu, but he figured through Christmas at least, plus he had his own shifts. Yes, he was okay for dinner, one of the hospital benefactors had promised ham and all the trimmings to the staff working during Christmas. Yes, it was bad luck, but even doctors got sick. That was the last time they'd spoken.

"No, I'm here . You guys starting at the usual time?" he said evenly.

"Yeah, and plan on staying here overnight. We can have brunch together before you head back to the city."

They hung up. Benny sat on his couch and stared at the shopping bags in the entrance, gifts for Roger and Carrie, and one he still hadn't gotten around to dropping off for Liz. And one for Matt, a scarf in a grayish green that wouldn't clash quite as badly with his hair as the one he always wore. He tapped his foot nervously. He could always take the present over to Matt's apartment, pretend he hadn't noticed that something was wrong or that Matt was shutting him out. Sure, it was pathetic, but it seemed even more pathetic to just sit back and let Matt dictate the terms of whatever the hell was happening between them without even an explanation.

The wait was so long between saying his name into the intercom and Matt buzzing him in, that he'd seriously thought he was going to be left standing outside on the curb. He climbed the stairs, his feet like lead. Matt was standing outside his door, his arms crossed against his chest.

"Hey."

"Hey. I was on my way to dinner, and I thought I'd drop this off for you," Benny lied.

Matt licked his lips nervously and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He flicked a quick look back over his shoulder into the apartment.

"Thank you. Uh, would you like to come in?"

"Yes," Benny said deliberately. "Yes, I would."

Matt stepped to the side and let Benny through. Benny already knew what he was going to find, had known from the moment Matt had half-blocked the entrance to his apartment. He knew he didn't actually want or need to see the evidence, that it was only morbid curiosity driving him on.

The guy lounging on Matt's couch wasn't what Benny expected. He could have imagined Matt going for several different types -- gray-haired lawyer type included -- but not this James Dean wanna-be, with his greasy hair, sulky mouth and beat-up Harley boots.

"Benjamin, Oliver," Matt made the introductions.

Oliver's lip curled into a sneer, and Benny felt like punching him.

"Oliver is a friend from L.A."

"Oh, I'm more than a friend, baby." Oliver's voice was a surprise; Benny hadn't expected the English public school accent.

Matt cleared his throat. "That's right. Oliver and I were together until a year ago." He held his hands out helplessly, looking Benny straight in the eye for the first time since they'd gone to the movies ten days ago, a pleading expression on his face. "And now he's here."

"Partners. Since college," Oliver clarified and Matt's face hardened.

"And then you left me."

"A mistake, baby. An enormous mistake that I'm trying to fix. How many times do I have to apologize?"

Benny looked from Matt to Oliver and back; he heard the individual words, but he seemed unable to string them together into anything that actually made sense. Benny and Matt had never spoken in any detail about past relationships. Matt knew that Benny's partner had been killed crossing the street. Benny knew that Matt had had a long string of one night stands and casual relationships. Or he thought he'd known that. Thinking back, he realized that the only time Matt had referred to his past was when he'd mentioned that Carrie thought he was dating losers, that first day, so long ago. Only it hadn't been that long ago, Benny realized in surprise. It had been in September, and the two of them had only been together since Thanksgiving. Except maybe that was wrong too. Maybe they hadn't really been together, maybe it had all been in Benny's head.

"I need to go," Benny said. "I'm running late as it is. I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas."

Benny's training as a lawyer had long taught him how to hide his feelings when he wanted to. In a court room, he only displayed emotion for the effect he thought it might have on the jury, and more often than not what he was showing wasn't really what he was feeling. Oliver seemed to notice nothing amiss, and he raised one hand in a lazy wave.

Matt knew though. He'd never read Benny wrong yet.

"I'll walk you down."

"There's no need."

Matt shrugged. "I have to check my mailbox, anyway." There was an almost frantic undercurrent to his voice, and Benny finally nodded.

"Ben, I..." Matt started, when they'd reached the bottom of the stairs, then he bit his lip.

"You could have told me. I would have understood. You didn't have to lie to me."

"He called me and I told him not to come, but he just showed up."

"It's okay," Benny soothed. "Really." 

After all, what else could he say?

"It's not okay! He left me a year ago, and I was finally starting..." Matt squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. "I liked you, Ben. I like you. I thought we..." His voice broke again and he took another deep breath. "I have to try. We were together so long. A lifetime. I can't just walk away if he's really back. You can see that, can't you?"

Benny nodded. "Yes, I can see that," he said, his voice gentle. He realized he was still holding the bag with Matt's gift. "I guess you won't be needing this in LA, but just in case."

Matt accepted the small bag, though Benny had the impression that he wasn't really aware of having done so.

"I'm just going back for a couple of weeks' vacation. I'm not moving back there."

Benny looked at his watch, as if he really had someplace to be.

"I need to go. Take care, okay?"

Matt didn't answer, just stood there, his face pale and his mouth working. Benny paused, looking for something more to say, some wise last words that might make them both feel better, but he had nothing. 

Absolutely nothing.

*******************

Benny met Christian at Roger's New Year's party, and the only reason he didn't go home with him that same night was because he didn't trust Christian or himself to drive. He met Brandon at his gym, and he met Kieran at The Monster. He broke his string of fucking men whose names ended in 'n' when he met Jack at an office function. Then there was somebody whose name he couldn't remember, but who loved rimming, and then Scott, who had the sucking power of an industrial vacuum cleaner. He didn't take them home and they didn't seem to expect it.

Matt hadn't told the truth about leaving for only two weeks. Benny learned through Roger -- although he'd been very careful not to ask -- that he'd moved back to Los Angeles by the end of January. Roger had had no idea about Oliver, and he'd been upset at Carrie for not having given anybody a heads-up.

In February, one of the managing partners assigned Benny a pro bono case he didn't want, but he supposed that, as the firm's token un-closeted partner, he was the obvious choice, even though he actually handled very little family law. Then again, there weren't that many precedents for this type of case, so his relative lack of experience probably didn't matter so much.

"All I got was visiting rights. If he moves to Tacoma, I'll never be able to see Jessie."

Benny looked at the man sitting opposite him and sighed. Gabriel had repeated a variation of the same phrase at least ten times during the last hour. That his ex-partner was moving cross-country for his job, and that he was taking their adopted son with him.

"I thought when we both adopted him that it would be okay. If something happened to Paul, I wouldn't also lose Jessie."

"Did you ask for joint custody?"

"Yes. But Paul fought it. He didn't want us to be tied together through Jessie." Gabriel shook his head. "When he first talked about adopting, I said no. I didn't know, you see, all I thought about was the inconvenience, and the expense. I had no idea... And then he used it against me. Claimed I was only suing out of revenge, not because I really want Jessie. And now he's moving."

"And you can't move, as well?"

"My mother is sick. We're just barely scraping by as it is. I can't leave her here alone, even assuming I could find a job in Washington."

Benny hesitated.

"It sounds like you've got a lot on your plate already. Maybe it would be better if--"

"No! I know what you're going to say, but I'm not going to just give up! I can't look at Jessie a few years from now, when he's old enough to understand, and tell him that I let him go without a fight. You need to help me, Mr. Siegel. Please, you need to help me!"

Benny tried. He tried as hard as he could, for two months, using every ploy he could think of, every precedent he could find, but it was no use: Gay couple, adopted child with no blood ties to either man, one with very little money, a precarious employment situation and an invalid mother that required a lot of care, the other able to prove that his financial circumstances would suffer if he didn't accept the transfer to Tacoma. At the end of the day, the child's welfare was also dependent on money, not only love, and in this economy Gabriel simply never stood a chance.

Benny took Gabriel to the airport to say goodbye to Jessie. He stood with his hands in his pockets next to Gabriel's ex, watching Gabriel with the little boy.

"It couldn't be helped," Paul muttered. "I know Gabe has demonized me, but it just couldn't be helped."

Benny looked at him indifferently. He wasn't about to try and soothe the man's guilty conscience. "You could have worked at it before it came to this. Love isn't all wine and roses and good times."

"Easy for you to say," Paul said resentfully. "You look like a player; when have you ever had to deal with any type of shit in your life?"

Benny just shook his head and moved a few steps away, waiting for Gabriel to finish cuddling with his son. Love was never enough in and of itself, that was the problem. Not between spouses, not between siblings, not between a father and a seven-year old little boy excited about his first trip on a plane. And certainly not between two men, who hadn't been given the time to figure out what they might be feeling for each other.

Driving home, Benny did the math and realized for the first time that Matt and he must have fallen in love with their respective partners within a couple of years of each other. In many respects, Matt had lost just as much, if not more, than Benny had, yet he'd been a hell of a lot stronger. At least Phil hadn't deserted Benny of his own free will, even though Benny sometimes wished that he had, if it could have meant that he'd still be alive somewhere. And although Benny had known that Phil could never come back, he'd still waited for him for seven years, while Matt had found the strength to go on with his life within a year. Benny was ashamed to think of how self-absorbed he'd been, how he'd forced drama after drama on Matt, never once stopping to think that Matt might be carrying some barely-healed wounds of his own. 

For the first time, he considered chasing after Matt. He was almost positive Carrie would give him the address, if he asked for it. Maybe part of the reason for Matt's return to Oliver was that he didn't know how Benny felt about him, that Oliver wasn't the only person, who wanted him. 

But as he crossed over the 59th Street Bridge into Manhattan, Benny resigned himself to the realization that he had no right to interfere or make things more difficult. At the end of the day, it wasn't about him or his feelings, but about Matt. The best and only thing he could offer Matt was to butt out, to let him work at being with the man, whom he'd loved all his life and who had come back to him.

*******************

Benny had stopped running the Reservoir loop, preferring the winding paths along the south side of Central Park. He told himself it was for the challenge of a slightly hillier and more difficult terrain, and that he'd grown bored with the same old loop day in and day out. But sometimes he just needed to see the water, especially on a sunny Saturday afternoon that felt more like June than April. He ran for close to an hour, circling the Reservoir over and over again. 

He saw him just as he was leaving the loop to start on his way back home. Still in a zone, his first emotion was pleased recognition; then reality came crashing in. He slowed down to a walk, his feet dragging by the time he reached where Matt was standing waiting for him.

"I called you, but you didn't answer. I figured maybe I'd find you here."

Benny never carried a cell phone when he was running; the world could survive without him for half an hour.

"Visiting?" he asked. He'd just finally come to terms with Matt leaving a week ago. He wasn't so sure he could do this.

Matt shook his head.

"No. I'm back."

Benny looked down at his shoes. He needed new laces for his right one.

"And Oliver?"

"He stayed in Los Angeles."

Maybe he should simply buy new shoes. How long had he had these ones, anyway?

"Ben."

He looked up at the sound of his name. Matt looked the same as ever, bright messy hair in perennial need of a trim, eyes shading from light brown to dark green, freckles that Benny had loved to try and count. Lips that Benny had loved kissing.

"Landlords and employers must really love you," Benny said waspishly in a spurt of anger. "Always walking out on them."

Matt ducked his head.

"I kept the apartment here. And they were more than happy to have me back at the hospital."

"And in Los Angeles?" Like he gave a shit.

"I stayed with Oliver, and I didn't look for a job."

Benny was growing cold. 

"I need to get home. I'm sorry it didn't work out. For Oliver and you, I mean."

"Things didn't work out so bad," Matt said, and there it was again, that slight hint of something in his voice, like when he'd said that he hadn't looked for a job. 

Benny shivered and rubbed his arms in order to warm up; a minute ago he'd wanted to leave, but now he needed to stay, to hear whatever it was that Matt had come here to tell him.

"I shouldn't keep you standing here. Ben, can we have dinner together tonight? Maybe meet at Jackson Hole after you shower and change?"

"You can come home with me now, if you want," Benny said, his heart trying to beat itself out of his chest. Matt nodded, and fell into step next to Benny. 

By the time they reached Benny's apartment, Benny was panting, like he'd run the last blocks at full speed. He stood in the elevator, staring at the floor numbers as they lit up in sequence, aware of Matt standing a couple of inches away from him. He inhaled through his nose, trying to calm down, and the citrus smell of Matt's aftershave filled his nostrils and he almost moaned out loud. This was crazy. Benny certainly didn't intend to fuck Matt five minutes after he'd returned to New York, without even knowing why he'd come back; he wasn't that desperate.

Only he was.

He wasn't sure who made the first move once he shut the apartment door. All he knew was that Matt was pressing him against the door, his mouth open and wet over Benny's, his hands burrowing under Benny's T-shirt to find his skin, his thigh against Benny's erection. Benny squirmed to get away from the door knob that was jabbing him right in the kidney, and Matt must have thought he was trying to get away, because he shoved harder, pushing his full weight into Benny, squeezing the breath out of him.

"Door knob," Benny finally managed to gasp, and thankfully Matt seemed to understand, because with his tongue in Matt's mouth and his groin riding Matt's leg, those two words were about all he could manage.

Matt pulled him away from the door and yanked his T-shirt off, then froze.

"Oh, Ben. God, I've missed this. I've missed you. So much."

"Then don't leave me again," Benny said unthinkingly. He swallowed hard as he processed what he'd just said, but he couldn't recant. It was what he wanted, even though he knew Matt was on the rebound, and that they wouldn't last for long. "Stay." 

He waited for Matt to say something, anything, but Matt just stared at him, his eyes wide and full of... what? Hope? 

"Can you do that?" Benny whispered, and Jesus, when had he started to tremble? "Stay?"

"Just like that? You don't want me to explain first? You don't need any time to think about it?"

Benny shook his head. "Not unless you do."




No Other Life than This Ch. 06



"I don't need more time. From the moment I found myself in Los Angeles, all I could think about was coming back here. To you. So, yes, I can do that. I can stay."

Matt looked down at Benny's T-shirt, as if unsure what to do with it, and finally tossed it in the direction of the couch, missing by a couple of feet. He wrapped his arms around Benny and kissed him under the ear, then moved down towards his shoulder, sucking and licking at the tendon along his neck, biting softly where Benny's neck curved into his shoulder. Benny was rapidly moving towards sensory overload, feeling the wet heat of Matt's mouth, the rough weave of Matt's shirt against his bare chest, Matt's hands moving restlessly along his back and ribs, tickling here and there, causing him to shiver. It had been so goddamned long. Forever. Benny tried to steady himself, grabbing handfuls of Matt's shirt and pushing his face into Matt's collar, but it was no use. He came the moment he felt Matt shove his hand down his shorts, before Matt had even had a chance to touch his dick.

"Seriously?" Matt chuckled, catching the last spurts in his palm. "Wow." He pressed his cheek against Benny's and stood quietly, his hand gently cupping Benny's softening cock, his other arm firm around Benny's waist.

Benny took a deep breath. His legs were shaky, but at least he was calmer now and didn't feel like jumping out of his own skin. "Oh, stop gloating," he muttered and pulled away. "I need to take a shower."

Matt looked interested at that. "So do I. I just dropped my stuff off at the apartment straight from the airport and then went looking for you."

Benny thought about mentioning that this was the first time he'd run the Reservoir loop since Matt had left, but he didn't want to think how fragile it all was, their lives prey to coincidences and chance meetings, to countless moments when anything might happen one way rather than another. The here and now was what counted; not the past, not the future, not the thousands of might-have-beens or maybes.

So better not to think. 

Better to unbutton Matt's shirt and unbuckle his belt, to undress him and take him with him into the shower; better to shampoo Matt's bright hair, to wash his body, skin slick with soap under his hands, chest heaving, to pinch his nipples and to cup his heavy testicles; better to dry Matt and to lead him to his bed, to kiss and lick every inch of his body, to draw arbitrary patterns on his freckled skin with his tongue and fingers, to feel Matt writhing against him; better to take Matt's hard shaft in his mouth, to make love to him, to hear his voice climb the range from bass to squeaky as he begged and cursed, and to swallow his come. Better to simply hold Matt against his heart, and to whisper in his ear that he loved him, and to fall asleep with him.



No Other Life than This Ch. 07



Birthdays, and in particular his own birthdays, brought out the worst in Benny. He didn't care how wonderful life was, or how lucky he was, and all those clichés about only being as old as one felt just annoyed the hell out of him. Being within spitting distance of fifty was nothing to celebrate.

An early morning blowjob from Matt made him feel marginally better, but when he tried to return the favor, Matt jumped out of bed.

"I'm late as it is. I used to be really punctual, before I met you."

Benny lay on his back on the California-king-sized bed, which had moved from Matt's apartment to his half a year ago, along with the rest of Matt's things, and knit his fingers behind his head.

"I'm just going to lie here and do nothing all day," he announced. "You can take me out to dinner when your shift is over."

Matt hesitated.

"You're not cooking?"

"Hell, no"

"You're not even baking a cake?"

"No, I'm not even baking a cake. For my own birthday? Are you kidding me?"

"Okay," Matt sighed, looking disappointed. "I'll figure something out."

He leaned over to give Benny a quick kiss, picked up his backpack and headed for the door.

"Jackson Hole is not an option," Benny yelled as he heard Matt opening the front door. "Not unless you want to see me in a really shitty mood."

"Why, you have other moods?" Matt yelled back, and then the door slammed shut.

Benny shifted so that he was lying in a bar of sunlight, and closed his eyes, drowsy in the warmth. He wished Matt didn't have to work so many weekends. On rare occasions, he could arrange to shift his own work and cases, so that they could spend Matt's days off together, and he had to settle for that.

He fell asleep for a while and woke up sweating. After a quick shower, he decided he might as well bake a cake, because Matt's disappointment had seemed genuine. Whistling tunelessly between his teeth before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be in a good mood, he perused his cookbooks and then surfed the internet, looking for a special recipe. He finally opted for a classic Devil's Food cake; he was way too lazy to go out shopping for the ingredients some of the more exotic desserts required. 

The small gift box was in the stacked mixing bowls. He grinned when he saw it. A man couldn't have too many cufflinks. He debated waiting for Matt to come home before he opened it, but Matt had obviously wanted him to find the box, or he wouldn't have made a big deal about the cake.

It wasn't cufflinks. Benny stared at the wide platinum ring, then traced the matt finish and polished edges, his heart hammering in his chest. He took it out of the box and slipped it onto the finger of his right hand, then stared at it some more. He took it off and put it back in the box, and tried to concentrate on the cake. After about fifteen minutes, he retrieved the ring and put it back on.

Matt called him at noon.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"What have been up to?"

"Nothing much. Just being lazy. How do things look for you?"

"Okay. It's been quiet so far. I should be able to get out on time, but I'll call you if I'm going to be late."

"Did you make reservations for dinner? I want to go to the kind of place you need to make reservations for."

"Ben, you need to make reservations at the corner greasy spoon on Saturday evening. Yes, I made reservations."

Benny grinned at how annoyed Matt sounded.

"Because I'm just wondering what I should wear."

"What you should wear?" Matt asked in a bewildered voice.

"Uh huh. I'm not really sure what goes with a platinum band."

There was a long silence.

"You asshole," Matt finally sighed.

"I like it. Thank you, Matt."

"It's not a proposal or anything," Matt said warily.

"It's on my right hand," Benny assured him.

"It's the first time I've given anybody a ring."

"Then I feel very special," Benny teased.

"Oh, shut up."

Another long pause.

"I do love you, though," Matt said quietly.

It wasn't the first time Matt had said it, but before it has always been as a response, a 'me, too' or a 'love you, too' and even 'yeah' on a couple of occasions. Even though Benny already knew the depth of Matt's feelings, the unsolicited declaration hit him hard.

"Yeah," he finally managed to choke out, and Matt laughed.

"So if you found the ring, it means you finally decided to bake a cake, right? What kind?"

"Devil's Food."

"Ooh, I like that. Be sure and make extra frosting."

"Why? You want to lick the bowl?"

"I want to lick something alright," Matt purred.

*******************

"This is too messy by far," Benny grumbled. "And I never liked '9 ½ Weeks'. And food belongs in plates and bowls."

"Stop bitching."

Benny glared. "Can't you just suck my dick without the frosting?"

Matt sighed and sat up on his heels. "Fine. Go wash off, Mr. Vanilla. Jeez."

Benny wiped at a chocolate smear on his hip. "Maybe vanilla frosting would have worked better," he mused distractedly. "Or white chocolate. The brown color, it's just too..."

"Oh, ugh. Please stop."

When Benny returned from the shower, Matt was lying on his stomach, chin propped up on one hand, reading. Benny straddled him and sat on his thighs.

"What's that?" he asked. He laid his palms on the small of Matt's back, then applied pressure, and Matt groaned.

"Michelin guide. You've still got a couple of weeks vacation, right?"

"Mmm hmmm." Benny worked his thumbs along Matt's spine, finding small knots of muscle and working on them, relaxing them. "Where are you taking me?" He leaned down and kissed Matt's shoulder.

"I was thinking northern Italy. The lakes, or maybe Tuscany."

"That sounds nice. Lay your head on the pillow," Benny urged and Matt stretched out, giving Benny more to work with.

"Love your backrubs," Matt murmured after a while.

Benny scooted further back to kneel between Matt's calves and spent some time massaging his legs. He worked his way up and down one long leg, then the other. Bending each leg at the knee, he rubbed Matt's feet, flexing his ankles and kneading the arches and the heels.

"Love your leg- and foot-rubs, too." 

Benny bent and kissed Matt right at the top of his crack, then held his ass cheeks apart and licked a wet trail over Matt's small pink pucker down to his perineum and back up again.

"I especially love that," Matt moaned, arching his butt up for more attention. Benny licked and nibbled, pulling Matt's hips up, so that he could also reach Matt's balls and cock. Matt complied with alacrity, getting up on his hands and knees and rocking back into Benny's tongue, mouth and hands. "More," he whispered. "Ben, more," and Benny gave him more, fucking the tight ring with his tongue until it loosened, then pressing in both thumbs. He let Matt control the depth and rhythm, until he could tell by the clenching of his muscles and his moans that Matt was about to come.

"No!" Matt protested, when Benny pulled away from him, and he tried to scoot backwards, but Benny blocked him.

"Want you on your back," he said, and Matt seemed to collapse underneath him. Benny rolled him over and folded his long legs against his body, holding him wide open. He looked around for the lube, but the tube was nowhere to be seen. Leaning over Matt, he reached into the nightstand drawer and came up empty.

"Matt, where's the lube?"

Matt just looked up at him with hot eyes, as if he didn't understand the question. Maybe he didn't, because he also curled his hips up a little, trying to make contact with Benny's dick. 

"Hold on," Benny said, trying to steady Matt with one hand and feeling around the bed with the other, still looking.

Matt reached for his own shaft and started stroking.

"Forget the lube. I want you inside me when I come."

Even as Benny lined his cock up and slowly pushed in, he knew he should have double-checked with Matt, because there was no way this wasn't going to hurt, even though he'd been rimming him. He spat into his hand and reached down, trying to make things a little wetter.

"Are you okay?" he whispered worriedly, when Matt groaned, and God, he should stop, but it felt so damn good, Matt's heat and tight muscles squeezing him, and he pushed his way farther in, trying to be gentle, but still going deeper instead of pulling out like he should.

"Oh, fuck," Matt gasped. "Yeah, I'm good. It feels different. Don't move too much."

Benny flexed his butt muscles, a small pulse, and Matt hissed in pleasure, so he did it again, and got the same reaction. Matt's hand was stroking faster, and Benny could see he was near again, and he dared a stronger thrust, because he had to move, he just had to.

Matt yelled an obscenity, and then he was coming in thick spurts and rocking his hips into Benny, squeezing Benny's cock inside him, the friction different without lube.

"Matt," Benny cried, his own orgasm erupting, and he fell forward into Matt's arms. Matt wrapped his arms around him and held him tight as they both came down together.

*******************

"If I got you a ring, would you wear it?" Benny asked later, as Matt spooned behind him.

"Sure."

Matt pushed his feet between Benny's and pulled him more firmly against him, adjusting him so that he could lie against him more comfortably. Benny sometimes felt lucky that Matt didn't try to thump him into the right shape, like he did the pillows. He let himself be pushed and pulled like a rag doll until Matt sighed happily, indicating that things were just right.

"What if I asked you to wear it on your left hand?"

"Only if you switch yours over, as well," Matt replied immediately, his voice calm.

"Okay."

Benny lay quietly for a while, thinking.

"You set me up all the way, didn't you? Dickhead."

Matt laughed. "You're so easy," he said, his arms tightening around Benny. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No," Benny sighed, feeling magnanimous. "I don't mind."

After all, he had the rest of his life to figure out how to get back at Matt, and, until then, he was exactly where he wanted to be.