Some Assembly Required (26 page)

So this was how Impressions knew who they had to help. It wasn’t a question—Benji instinctively knew. The magnetic pull he’d always felt, tugging him insistently toward Patrick, suddenly made sense. It was more than just the attraction that had thrummed through him from their first meeting. It was CASA.

Benji had been a doormat all his life. He put himself last. He catered to others’ needs while ignoring his own. It had gotten him killed. The DEL TORO bookcase had been the instrument, but his own lack of self-worth had been the real cause.

And now he had the chance to save Patrick from the same fate. Even though he was already dead, he couldn’t move on if he was missing that important piece. Patrick’s fear of the unknown kept him here, sure. But so did his belief that he wasn’t good enough to move on. He wasn’t worthy.

Benji felt warmth coalesce in his chest. This was the right path.

And it wasn’t a hardship by a long shot. He already loved and respected Patrick. Now he just had to convince Patrick to love and respect himself, and he knew exactly how to do it. He’d worship him the way Alec should have. The way Patrick should have demanded that anyone who had the fortune to take him to bed did. He’d show Patrick how much he was worth, and how treasured he was.

Patrick threw himself into carnal pleasures the same way he did into everything else—wholly and with no thought to the consequences.

That wasn’t a surprise. Anyone who spent any time at all with Patrick could tell he was a fallout-be-damned kind of guy. All action and no forethought. And Benji probably knew that better than most, given that he’d spent the last eight years with him.

Benji drew in a breath, reveling in the way he could feel his lungs expand. He felt more alive than he had in a long time. Ironic, since he’d never been so certain he was dead.

Patrick’s kisses were insistent. He went in with hard edges and no finesse. Benji nipped at his lip to slow him down, showing him how he wanted to be kissed. Softly, slowly, with no urgency. Like they had all the time in the world. Like there was no one else anywhere on any plane of existence who deserved Benji’s time and focus more.

Patrick tensed, and Benji shifted until he was straddling him, holding his hips back so Patrick didn’t rush into more frottage. Benji deepened the kiss, delving languorously into Patrick’s mouth, stroking over the sharp points of his teeth and the tongue that was just as sharp in its own way. It didn’t take long for Patrick to catch on, and Benji relaxed against him when Patrick gave himself over to the kiss, all of the tension flowing out of his body as Benji settled on top of him.

He brought a hand up to card through Patrick’s hair, scratching his nails against Patrick’s scalp. Patrick groaned softly, melting into Benji’s gentle touch.

“No energy exchanges,” Benji murmured. He tucked his face against Patrick’s neck and licked at the skin, disappointed that it didn’t have the salty tang of sweat. It wouldn’t, of course, but he missed it all the same. “I’m going to make love to you in a very—” He nipped at the supple skin under his teeth, making Patrick squirm and laugh. “mortal—” He nosed up the column of Patrick’s throat, pressing a kiss to where his pulse should be thrumming. “—way,” he finished, and he punctuated it with a nuzzle against his jaw and a quick kiss on his swollen lips.

Patrick rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. Benji lowered his head and pressed a row of kisses down his chest, paying special attention to each of Patrick’s nipples, which reddened and stood up pertly after being laved by Benji’s tongue.

He continued down, sucking what he hoped would be a hickey at the hard ridge of Patrick’s hip. The sprinklers had stopped at some point, and the quality of light was different. Brighter. The emergency lights had been replaced by the soft glow of the overhead fixtures that stayed on even at night. How could he not have noticed how time passed here? It was so glaringly obvious now.

Benji laughed inwardly at the thought that he’d been kissing Patrick for days. He’d said that to a lover once, caught up in the poetry of promising to worship someone for days on end. It had been melodramatic and overdone at the time, but now it was just a truth. He could easily spend weeks, months, years tangled up with Patrick here in this corner of CASA where no one existed but them.

But he wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair to either of them. They needed to move on so Benji could make similar promises to Patrick wherever the next plane of existence took them.

He kissed his way down the crease of Patrick’s hip, carefully skirting around the hot flesh that waited there and continuing his thorough adulation down Patrick’s muscled thigh instead.

Patrick had been up on his elbows, watching Benji’s slow descent, but he flopped down onto the mattress with a sorrowful moan. “You’re killing me.”

Benji grinned but didn’t stop kissing him until he reached Patrick’s foot. He licked the instep, making Patrick’s leg jerk as he shrieked in delighted surprise.

“You’re already dead,” Benji said with a shrug. He met Patrick’s sparkling gaze and then ducked down to continue, starting with the other foot.

Patrick was ready for him this time and didn’t start when Benji swept his tongue over the tender bottom of his foot. He shivered when Benji moved up to press a soft kiss against the inside of his ankle, skating his lips over the thin skin like a whisper.

Or maybe more like a prayer. Benji believed in God, and that belief helped reassure him that there would be something even better waiting for him on the other side of those CASA doors. But Patrick didn’t, and that was okay. He just had to believe in Benji. And himself. That would be enough.

Benji had outlawed energy exchanges, but that didn’t stop him from pouring all of his love and trust into each kiss as he made his way up Patrick’s leg. It wasn’t the same zing as the way they could shift their auras to each other, but he could tell from the way Patrick was mumbling and writhing that it was more than just a normal touch. Maybe he really was able to put his intentions and feelings into his kisses. Why not? He had no idea what was possible here, but that hardly seemed far-fetched. And he really liked the idea of Patrick seeing himself through Benji’s eyes, or through his emotions, at least. What better way to show Patrick how special he was and how much Benji believed in him?

Patrick was back up on his elbows by the time Benji looked up again. He held eye contact with him when he let his questing fingers softly catch against the skin of Patrick’s scrotum. Patrick lurched like he’d been struck by lightning, his hips coming up off the bed at the unexpected caress.

“Easy there,” Benji said, his lips curved into a self-satisfied smile. “Wouldn’t want to pull a muscle. Since you’re so out of practice, you know.”

Patrick swatted at him. His breath came in heavy gasps, which Benji took as a compliment since neither of them actually needed to breathe. If he’d managed to make Patrick forget that, then he was on the right track.

Emboldened by Patrick’s reaction, he slipped between Patrick’s thighs and nudged his legs up, making a space for himself between them. Before Patrick could question it, he leaned in and licked a firm stripe down his perineum. Patrick’s hips bucked up again, and this time Benji curled his fingers around Patrick’s cock, stroking him slowly as he licked his way along until he could circle his entrance with his tongue.

“Christ on a motherfucking crutch,” Patrick bit out, the words slurred and at least an octave higher than his usual.

Benji flicked his wrist on the next upstroke, the way eased by the precome that had been steadily leaking down Patrick’s shaft during Benji’s slow journey down one side of his body and up the other.

“Okay?” he asked, lifting his head so he could see Patrick. Rimming wasn’t something everyone was comfortable with, though Benji had found that was more true on the giving end than the receiving end. But he didn’t know where Patrick stood on it, and he didn’t want to do anything that made him uncomfortable.

From the heavy-lidded look Patrick was giving him, though, Benji was fairly certain he wasn’t going to object.

“Mmm,” Patrick hummed. He let his head fall back onto the pillows but pulled his legs in tighter, giving Benji better access. It was all the answer he needed.

Benji wasn’t coordinated enough to give a decent hand job while rimming. He gave Patrick another hard stroke and then slid his hand down to help spread his cheeks apart, giving himself unfettered access to Patrick’s hole. A few broad strokes of his tongue against the sensitive flesh had Patrick’s thighs trembling and his voice breaking as he said Benji’s name.

Benji took his time, opening Patrick up with his tongue before adding his fingers into the mix. He couldn’t fuck him, not without lube, and that wasn’t the type of thing they stocked at CASA. It was a pity, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it.

Benji pressed one last sucking kiss to the swollen skin and leaned up on his own elbows, bracing himself so he could swallow Patrick’s length down and still have a finger buried inside him. Patrick hissed out a breath and came before Benji managed to open his throat enough to take him all the way in.

Benji tightened his lips around Patrick’s cock and worked him through his orgasm. Patrick clenched down around his finger so tightly that he couldn’t have moved it if he’d wanted to. So he didn’t. From Patrick’s shuddery breaths and half-voiced sobs, he was already at the brink of too much sensation—that might send it over into pain instead of pleasure, and that was the last thing Benji wanted.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said softly, unsure whether Patrick was awake or not.

Patrick snorted. Awake, then.

“Don’t sell yourself short. I’m a hell of a lot better than okay,” he said with a snicker.

Benji sighed. The walls were already going back up. Patrick was building up his defenses.

“I can’t stay,” Benji said.

“No, of course not,” he said, and all traces of good humor fled from Patrick’s tone. He rolled over, but Benji didn’t let him get far. He pressed a kiss between Patrick’s tense shoulder blades and scooted forward so he could spoon him. They fit together perfectly like this too.

“This isn’t a place we’re supposed to linger,” Benji said quietly. “You feel it too, don’t you? You talk about CASA like it’s an entity, but it’s not. It’s just a place. The uneasiness, the energy coiling under your skin sometimes? That’s not the CASA. That’s you. It’s your essence trying to get you to pass through those doors.”

Patrick made a tight sound, like air hissing through clenched teeth. “And you’re suddenly the expert on the afterlife, are you? Where were you all those years ago? Back when your advice might actually have made a difference?”

Benji bit his lip to keep from responding. Where had he been all those years ago, when Patrick was a fresh-faced newbie in awe of an all-powerful Guide named Alec?

He’d been a baby. If he’d even been born. And he knew that was what Patrick wanted him to say. He wanted to keep it light, to keep it easy between them tonight. “No strings attached” wasn’t possible, but he could tell from the way Patrick was holding himself taut, angling himself away from Benji, that he was trying to sever them as neatly as possible.

Well, fuck that.

“You’re a good person, Patrick Bryant.”

Patrick choked, his body going from tense to ramrod straight in a millisecond.

“You deserve good things. You deserve a second chance, and a third one. You deserve all the chances you need to get it right, because you are kind and compassionate. You’re a beautiful person inside and out, and I’m so sorry that Alec shook your confidence in yourself. If you could see what I see, Patrick, you’d have moved on years ago.”

Patrick rubbed his face against the RIMINI pillow, but not fast enough to hide his tears. He didn’t pull away when Benji tucked his face against the back of his neck, tears prickling in his own eyes as well. He’d watched Patrick slip a similar pillow out of someone’s cart awhile back, replacing it with a firmer MESSINA model because the man was an alcoholic who frequently went to bed so smashed that he passed out from it. Like the Impression that had saved him, he would have suffocated with his face pressed into the too-soft pillow one night if Patrick hadn’t intervened.

How could a man who spent his life saving others think he wasn’t worth anything?

“If there’s only one thing you take away from our time together, I want it to be this,” he said quietly. He could feel Patrick’s chest rise under his hand and stay that way—he was holding his breath. “You don’t exist because of CASA. And I know that’s hard to accept because we don’t know why we’re here, not really. But CASA isn’t the thing that’s tethering you here. That void you feel inside your chest? It isn’t being filled by CASA any more than it could be filled by me. It’s you, Patrick. It’s a space inside you for you, and you need to fill it before you can move on. That’s the secret. That’s why we see Impressions smiling as they step out of those doors. They’re at peace.”

Patrick had started breathing again, ragged, soft snuffles that he tried to drown out by pressing his face against the pillow.

“You know why? It’s not because whatever they see past those doors is so awesome. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I hope it is awesome. I hope it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. But it wouldn’t matter, because once you’re at peace, anywhere is utopia.”

He kissed Patrick’s bare shoulder and pulled the coverlet up around them. It was dry, but the mattress underneath them was still soggy, though it hardly mattered. They were both out in seconds.

Hand in hand, they walked the aisles of CASA one last time. Instead of a hurried pace, they took every second of time they could squeeze out of a leisurely stroll. They occasionally paused to admire various ruined home furnishings and pretended they too were shopping for an apartment they’d never share. A crew had appeared earlier that morning to start hauling things away, presumably to a gigantic fleet of Dumpsters outside.

“That’s the best sofa,” Benji said as he patted the SACCO’s upholstery. “It would go awesome in the den.”