Page 146 of Smart Ass

Ben melted. Oliver wasn’t going crazy now that he’d mostly said it, and it left him feeling, well, really warm and happy.

He dug into his noodles. They really were fucking good.

He noticed that the music around him—which was so often a background to his days, since Oliver enjoyed it—was taking on a more syncopated fun beat. The electric guitar slashed through heavy chords over an intricate and steady drum. Faintly under it, he was pretty sure Oliver was humming.

“What are we listening to?” Ben asked.

The instrumentals continued, but the humming stopped. “Nothing much.”

“Oh my god, Oliver. You wrote this, didn’t you?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

“I want to hear it.” His boyfriend was so damned talented. Plus, he loved seeing Oliver a little shy.

“You asked for it…” Oliver warned.

Ben waited, as the instrumentals came around to the verse again, and then Oliver’s deep voice, golden and throaty, burst in.

Racing away,

You’re mine to catch

Dancing with shadows

My fiery match

You flirt and you flee

Higher and higher you climb

Crazy baby of mine

Ben blinked, then remembered to shove another fork full of food into his mouth. This song was about him. Holy shit. Oliver had written a song—a sweet, tangled, achingly throbbing song—about him.

He was still stunned as Oliver started the next verse.

You shine the brightest

Wearing my marks

You lead me freely

Into the dark

You sin and you suffer

You’re my divine

Crazy baby of mine

Ben’s arms were breaking out in goosebumps. He could feel every lash and bruise. Every one of Oliver’s marks on his skin.

What were Ben’s little words of love compared to this… this incandescence?

This song was fucking good.

So much more than he deserved.