Authors: Z. A. Maxfield
Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #LGBT WWII-era Historical
honey.”
Rafe’s muscles tensed at his first touch. “Ja—
yes
.”
“It’s going to be all right. I—”
“You need this?” Rafe asked, turning to read the expression on Ben’s face. “You
need me?”
“I…
Yes
,” Ben hissed.
Christ, yes
. He needed to bury himself inside Rafe more than
he needed sleep or food. More than he needed air. “Yes, I need this. I need you.”
“All right, then.” Rafe relaxed his body fractionally by sheer force of will. “It will be
fine.”
Rafe wasn’t ignorant, but he had only a few preconceived notions to go on. When
he tried to imagine what would happen between them, he couldn’t picture it, couldn’t
fathom something the size of Ben’s member entering his body.
He let Ben take the lead—allowed his lover to push his leg forward, exposing him.
Ben maneuvered him into a receptive position easily and without preamble. His cream-
slicked hand dropped between Rafe’s legs, stroking the space between his balls and
uuh
…his…
anus.
It felt good, especially when he increased the pressure, especially when he took the
twin globes of Rafe’s balls into his greased hand and massaged them, tugging at them
lightly. Rafe’s mouth went dry, and he arched, unconsciously offering what Ben was
prepared to take.
Ben was exquisitely tender, so gentle and thorough that Rafe didn’t expect the
pinch and burn when Ben pushed a finger inside him. Rafe struggled for a minute
against the invasion, gasping in a sudden breath, but Ben’s lips came down on his neck
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and swamped his senses with hot, sticky suction, a tongue that lapped at him and stole
his breath even as Ben’s finger pressed in farther, making headway despite the protest
of Rafe’s body.
“Let me in, honey,” Ben whispered in his ear. “It’s going to burn at first, but you’ll
get used to it.”
Rafe shifted experimentally and nodded. “Ja.”
Just when he thought it might actually be all right, Ben added another finger, and
his ass spasmed again, clamping down tight against the intrusion. Instead of crying out,
Rafe pressed his forehead against the pillow while he crushed wads of the sheet in his
good hand.
“All right,” Ben soothed. “It’s going to be all right.”
Rafe nodded, holding himself still as Ben twisted his fingers inside. Rafe gave a
strangled groan, and Ben kissed his shoulder, his back. Rafe wasn’t sure he could
endure this, even if he wanted to, even if it was what Ben needed. He wasn’t sure he
was going to be able to give Ben what he was asking for, even if he wanted it as much
or more than Ben did.
“Breathe, honey. Deep breath,
relax
. I know it’s strange at first.”
Rafe took a gulping breath, and something eased inside him.
Breathing did help
.
Breathing made it possible to shift, to arch and stretch around Ben’s fingers. Suddenly,
Ben touched him somewhere, brushed against something magical, and
zap
. A massive
electrifying jolt—pleasure that started off buried with Ben fingers—radiated throughout
his entire body, even to the tips of his fingers and toes.
“
Jesus
.” For a second, Rafe felt boneless, and all he understood was
more
. He arched
again, seeking, but Rafe withdrew his fingers. “
Nein, Ben. Mach weiter
.”
“Hush, I’m getting more cream.” Ben’s hand came back slicker. His fingers slid
inside Rafe easily this time, and Rafe pushed back, wanting to feel that crazy shock
again. “Here.”
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And there it was again.
Mein Gott, what is that
? Impossible, gut-clenching, and
indescribable—every cell in Rafe’s body wanted it again. Rafe buried his face in the
pillow before a grateful whine could escape him. He wanted it. He had to have it, had
to feel Ben’s fingers deeper, harder.
“
Fester
.”
Harder
. He was openly squirming now, leaning back against Ben’s hand,
rocking his hips to get more, but Ben’s fingers disappeared again, and the blunt head of
his cock took their place.
Rafe’s body rebelled. Ben lined himself up and drove forward, slowly,
so slowly
, but
success seemed impossible. It felt as though Ben’s cock would split him in half.
Rafe bit his lip and pushed his face into the pillow again. He trusted Ben, and Ben
needed him.
I have faith
. Rafe wanted this because Ben wanted it.
The pressure was immense, the burn nearly unbearable, but then…something gave
way. His body capitulated, and Ben was in, stretching him. Filling him.
The burn felt vague and bearable, and in time, the ache of having the thickness of
Ben’s cock inside him was even…pleasurable in a sense.
He let his head fall forward and almost laughed with relief.
“Better?”
Rafe’s mouth was too dry to speak, so he nodded.
Ben’s muscles bunched, and he drew back. The long, slow glide of his cock
withdrawing stole Rafe’s breath, a precursor to his surprised cry when Ben pushed back
in.
They rose and fell together, or rather Ben pushed deep from behind, and Rafe
pushed back until they found their rhythm in the musical babble of love sounds—
groans of satisfaction and grunts of pleasure.
Ben had been driven to this—to him—by need and desire. Rafe accepted him,
welcomed him, returned his need with passion of his own, and when they went over
the edge, they went together.
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“
Nicht aufhören
,” Rafe begged.
Don’t stop
. “
Ja, ja. Oh Gott
. Don’t stop.”
Ben gave one last thrust and held tight, squeezing the very life out of Rafe as they
shuddered to completion together. Ben dropped his sweaty head on Rafe’s shoulder
and gave a half sob of relief.
“Thank you,” Ben whispered into Rafe’s skin. His hair. “Thank you,
thank you
.”
Rafe rubbed their cheeks together and discovered Ben’s were damp. Rafe drew
away to see a sweet, watery smile—some amalgam of exhaustion and relief and pure
male satisfaction. Rafe tilted his head so he could kiss that smile off Ben’s lips.
When their mouths met, Rafe savored everything Ben had come to mean to him.
Caring, protection, family, friendship, pleasure. Maybe more than that. Maybe even
love.
Ben’s cock softened, and he withdrew it, drawing a sharp gasp from Rafe.
“Tender?”
Rafe nodded. “It’s all right.”
“It will get easier.” Ben slid his hand across Rafe’s chest and kissed his shoulder.
“Thinking about you was all that got me through the last couple of days. I needed you
so much. I didn’t give you time to—”
“Hush. I wanted it.”
“It can be better.” Earnest green eyes implored Rafe to believe. “It will be.”
“It was perfect.”
It was perfect because you needed me
. “It was better than perfect
because it was you.”
Ben dropped a kiss on Rafe’s cheek and got up. He left for the bathroom and came
back with a damp towel as Rafe drifted in and out of sleep, content. Ben’s ministrations
were gentle and caressing as he parted Rafe’s legs to clean him, holding the cool cloth
against his skin to soothe his tender bottom.
“So thoughtful.”
“I have so much to tell you, but Christ, I’m exhausted.”
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“In the morning is good enough, ja?”
“Yes.” Ben dropped the cloth onto the rug by the bed. “Tomorrow I’ll tell you
everything.”
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Chapter Eighteen
December 25, 1955
Christmas morning.
Rafe woke alone, but he heard the faintest scrabbling sounds coming from the
living room. If Mooki was dancing around out there, she must have heard Ben come in.
Rafe smiled into the darkness. He rolled over and got up. For a change, he didn’t bother
with his robe or slippers. He padded into the living room in bare feet, as excited as the
children in holiday songs. He found Ben sitting on the ground at the base of the tree,
wrapping a present.
“I caught you,
Weihnachtsmann
.” Rafe kissed the top of his head and leaned over to
plug in the tree lights. “You must be this St. Nikolaus I keep hearing about.”
“Nope.” Ben put the finishing touches on an awkward bow. “Just some guy with a
crush on the man who lives here.”
Rafe sat in front of him, cross-legged like a boy. He felt like a boy, anxious for his
present, his heart happy. Ben had been through several awful days. The shooting. The
investigation. The worst flooding in a decade and endless hours on the job. “A crush?”
“A crush. A passion. An obsession. Whatever you call it.”
“What should we call it?”
Ben sighed and pushed his present under the tree with the scant few that were
already there. He took both Rafe’s hands in his. “I plan to call it as I see it. You are the
best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“I need to draw the drapes.” Rafe started to pull his hands away, but Ben held
them.
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“No one will see us. All anyone can see from outside is the tree.”
Rafe glanced up and knew it was true. The way the lights glowed and shimmered
off the tinsel, it would be impossible to see anyone sitting behind it as they were. A
pretty metaphor for his life. Rafe gave a sad smile at that.
“What?” Ben asked.
“I was thinking how apt that image is. Me, hiding behind a Christmas tree.”
“It’s okay to keep private things private, Rafe. People don’t understand what
you’ve been through. I don’t even understand really, although I sympathize.”
Rafe shook his head at that. “I am simply a coward. I know that.”
“If that’s the case, so am I. I’m not going to let anyone see what we have because I
don’t want to lose it. I don’t want anything to ruin it.” He glanced down to where their
hands met, at the cast on Rafe’s arm. “I’m honestly afraid of how far I would go to
protect it.”
Rafe nodded. “I understand.”
“No, you don’t.” Ben lowered his forehead to their clasped hands. “
Christ
. You
don’t understand at all. I keep thinking back to the shooting. Did I have the chance to
shoot the bastard before he killed Calhoun? I should have fired
first
.”
“What do you mean?” Rafe laid his cheek on the back of Ben’s head. The tension in
Ben hummed through his skin.
“If I hadn’t identified myself, if I’d just taken the shot, Calhoun would still be
alive.” Ben rocked beneath Rafe. “Did I know? Did I do that on purpose? Did I let that
bastard shoot my partner because I was angry?”
“Of course you didn’t. How could you even think that?”
“I keep reliving it over and over in my mind. Calhoun hadn’t drawn his gun. I had
the shot. I could have fired first, but I didn’t.”
“Think back. Why didn’t you?”
“It’s protocol to identify yourself. I did what I’ve practiced a thousand times.”
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“You did the right thing, Geliebter. That was the right thing. You couldn’t know
he’d shoot.”
“But then why, late at night, do I wonder? Did I hesitate? Did I take just a second
too long because of what I’d learned about Calhoun? I swear to God, I wanted him dead
for what he did to you. Sometimes I think—”
“I know you,” Rafe reassured him. “I know you wouldn’t hesitate to do your job.”
Rafe felt Ben’s tears dampen his fingers. “At the time, it was so clear, and when I
think back, I can’t
remember
, Rafe. I can’t remember exactly how it was anymore. I’ve
told and retold the story so many times I’m confused.”
“You did the right thing.” Rafe stroked Ben hair. “I know you did.”
“Thank you for believing in me.” Ben rubbed his lips along Rafe’s thumb.
“But…I’m having a hard time believing in myself. I think maybe I hesitated. Just for a
fraction of a second. Maybe I thought… Here is the answer to all my problems, and God
almighty… What if I
could
have shot first, and didn’t? What does that make me?”
“Look at me,” Rafe ordered.
Ben lifted his chin and blinked against the lights.
“You are the best man I know.”
“I would kill to protect what we have. I don’t know. Maybe I did.”
Rafe stared at him.
Maybe he did. Maybe he’s telling me that’s exactly what he did
. “Did
you?”
When Ben opened his mouth to speak, Rafe changed his mind and lifted his hand to
cover Ben’s lips.
“Don’t say anything.”
Ben clamped his teeth together.
“Don’t give it words. I believe in you. Whatever was in your heart, don’t give it
words.”
Ben nodded.
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