He resists the urge to part with a kiss. Silver has the right idea, maybe - it’s nicer when one’s made to wait a bit, and it suggests that maybe there’s more between them than friends-with-benefits. So he makes himself leave with the promise of seeing each other on Tuesday, and Benedict is more than fine to wait.
Really.
Except Monday night rolls around, and after an impromptu dinner out with his brothers, Benedict gets lost in painting. Eventually his stomach gives a grumble and he realizes it’s horribly late. Silver comes the next day to prep meals, so Benedict is about to settle for some bread or some cereal when a thought comes to his mind. If Silver is already meant to be here in the morning anyway, he may as well be here for the night. Or what’s left of the night.
On a whim and pure Bridgerton boldness, he texts Silver to let him know he’s in desperate need of a late night snack.
Silver responds a half-hour later with an apology (no phones on the line, he'd just dealt with a rush) and a promise to be there in under another half-hour, if Benedict is still up for it.
In truth, Silver doesn't think much of it. Maybe it's because his mind is still in work mode since he's coming straight from the Admiral Benbow, save for a short detour to try to shower off kitchen grease.
The doorman knows to just let him in now--even lets him in since he has his arms full of the food he'd bought prior for Tuesday's meals, though he still needs to go back for some more.
"I'm later than I'd like," he apologizes, immediately beginning to set stuff down and set things up. "Anything in particular you're in the mood for?"
The fact that Silver even replied is fantastic, really, so the fact that he is actually going to come by is amazing. Benedict isn’t sure if he ought to do anything - shower? change? have drinks ready? - so he just goes back to painting.
When Silver arrives, Benedict emerges from his studio room, in a pair of faded jeans and a long sleeve shirt that, judging by the paint remnants both old and new, seem to be his ‘work clothes.’ He flashes the other man a smile.
“I hadn’t noticed,” he replies, “I lost track of time.”
He shrugs as he moves to help Silver sort everything.
“I’d hate to put you out more than I have. It’s been a long day for you, so something easy is more than fine. It’ll be better than the bread I’d intended to eat.”
Benedict looks good like this. Really, really good--his hair is in soft curls, wavy but a little disheveled, and that long sleeved shirt and jeans give him an appearance silver can only describe as passionately sexy, combined with that fucking smile he thinks he will never be able to handle.
"Avocado toast?" he offers, though his gaze is lingering on the other's neck, taking in the pale skin with interest.
The thing about being a Bridgerton is that, along with the other traits they all strongly possess, they also all have a high libido. Most people are surprised by this, given how the Bridgertons conduct themselves. But it’s because of this that Benedict is keenly aware of the way Silver is looking at his neck. Now that they’ve both expressed their interest in one another, and all.
“That won’t take terribly long, will it?”
Benedict could forgo food all together and just have Silver press him up against the counter, but the man’s worked a long day, and Benedict thinks he might be a touch hungry. Still, he smirks, and there’s a forward coyness to his tone that he hopes won’t be misinterpreted.
"It doesn't have to," he says absently, and jesus, he's lost in that ridiculous smirk. How easy would it be to grab a hold of the other's soft curls and pull? Bringing the other closer to him with a simple touch?
He can read a room. He's very good at reading a room, it's how he survived even before prison. Even if he didn't, that smile pretty much tells anyone what's on Benedict's mind. He's honestly surprised, he didn't take Benedict for this sort.
"Are you certain?" Benedict still looks coyly amused, even as he makes his way around the counter so he can move into the kitchen proper. "I'd hate to leave you feeling hungry."
He's not quite predatory. Benedict's not assertive enough for that, but he's very much a man who knows what he wants when he wants it. He quite enjoys the build up, anyway.
"But if you insist, then I think I'd quite like to kiss you."
The other says it in a way him to it with something that is both incredibly sexy and incredibly polite, straightforward while still being coy. A simple form of consent, but more importantly, Benedict is now around the counter.
Fuck toast, he thinks, and then he wonders if Benedict was even feeling hungry in the first place. It's more the proximity that matters, because like this, it's very easy to place one hand on the kitchen counter and the other next to Benedict's other side, effectively boxing him in.
"Would you?" He asks, and he leans in close, lips almost touching Benedict's, insufferable as he teases the other, hips pressing against the others' hips.
"I do admit, I'm rather hungry for something other than toast."
For a man considerable shorter than Benedict, Silver certainly has a way of seeming larger than he is. Benedict finds that he enjoys being crowded by the other man, happily trapped by his arms and his hips. The slight press of their bodies makes Benedict part his lips.
"Good."
It's really all Benedict needs to hear. Silver's lips are close enough that Benedict doesn't have any distance to close as he catches them in a kiss, and he brings his hands up to tug Silver's hips closer still.
Benedict instigates but Silver wastes no time--the other kisses him and Silver, pleased, leans into it, hand still on the counter though his other comes up to the small of Benedict's back, holding him while he all but cages the other, the nobleman backed into the counter with little chance to escape even if he wanted to.
The kiss is deepened, Silver drawing away only to bite at the other's lip playfully, murmuring inaudibly as he begins to place kisses down the other's neck.
Benedict's head tips back and he lets out an audibly pleased sigh, enjoying the way Silver's stubble scratches against his skin. His hands push up and under Silver's shirt. He's already seen how wonderfully muscular the other is, but now he gets to feel it, letting his hands skim along Silver's lower back.
He can't help himself. He probably should, but he refuses to--instead, Silver grabs Benedict's hips, lifting him up entirely and onto the counter, growling playfully as he does so. This is what he's wanted since he first lay eyes on the other, and he isn't ashamed to admit it, even if instead of voicing it, he spends his time snaking his hands up the other's shirt to take it off for him, lips barely inches away from Benedict's own the entire time.
Benedict lets out a bit of a breathless laugh, surprised and delighted by being so manhandled. It’s cut a bit short due to the fact that he finds it impossible to not be kissing Silver, though he does break away just long enough to help get his shirt off.
Then it’s back to more insistent kissing. Benedict’s fingers find their way into Silver’s curls, nesting in among them.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He resists the urge to part with a kiss. Silver has the right idea, maybe - it’s nicer when one’s made to wait a bit, and it suggests that maybe there’s more between them than friends-with-benefits. So he makes himself leave with the promise of seeing each other on Tuesday, and Benedict is more than fine to wait.
Really.
Except Monday night rolls around, and after an impromptu dinner out with his brothers, Benedict gets lost in painting. Eventually his stomach gives a grumble and he realizes it’s horribly late. Silver comes the next day to prep meals, so Benedict is about to settle for some bread or some cereal when a thought comes to his mind. If Silver is already meant to be here in the morning anyway, he may as well be here for the night. Or what’s left of the night.
On a whim and pure Bridgerton boldness, he texts Silver to let him know he’s in desperate need of a late night snack.
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In truth, Silver doesn't think much of it. Maybe it's because his mind is still in work mode since he's coming straight from the Admiral Benbow, save for a short detour to try to shower off kitchen grease.
The doorman knows to just let him in now--even lets him in since he has his arms full of the food he'd bought prior for Tuesday's meals, though he still needs to go back for some more.
"I'm later than I'd like," he apologizes, immediately beginning to set stuff down and set things up. "Anything in particular you're in the mood for?"
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When Silver arrives, Benedict emerges from his studio room, in a pair of faded jeans and a long sleeve shirt that, judging by the paint remnants both old and new, seem to be his ‘work clothes.’ He flashes the other man a smile.
“I hadn’t noticed,” he replies, “I lost track of time.”
He shrugs as he moves to help Silver sort everything.
“I’d hate to put you out more than I have. It’s been a long day for you, so something easy is more than fine. It’ll be better than the bread I’d intended to eat.”
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Benedict looks good like this. Really, really good--his hair is in soft curls, wavy but a little disheveled, and that long sleeved shirt and jeans give him an appearance silver can only describe as passionately sexy, combined with that fucking smile he thinks he will never be able to handle.
"Avocado toast?" he offers, though his gaze is lingering on the other's neck, taking in the pale skin with interest.
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“That won’t take terribly long, will it?”
Benedict could forgo food all together and just have Silver press him up against the counter, but the man’s worked a long day, and Benedict thinks he might be a touch hungry. Still, he smirks, and there’s a forward coyness to his tone that he hopes won’t be misinterpreted.
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He can read a room. He's very good at reading a room, it's how he survived even before prison. Even if he didn't, that smile pretty much tells anyone what's on Benedict's mind. He's honestly surprised, he didn't take Benedict for this sort.
(Not that he's complaining)
"It can wait."
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He's not quite predatory. Benedict's not assertive enough for that, but he's very much a man who knows what he wants when he wants it. He quite enjoys the build up, anyway.
"But if you insist, then I think I'd quite like to kiss you."
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Fuck toast, he thinks, and then he wonders if Benedict was even feeling hungry in the first place. It's more the proximity that matters, because like this, it's very easy to place one hand on the kitchen counter and the other next to Benedict's other side, effectively boxing him in.
"Would you?" He asks, and he leans in close, lips almost touching Benedict's, insufferable as he teases the other, hips pressing against the others' hips.
"I do admit, I'm rather hungry for something other than toast."
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"Good."
It's really all Benedict needs to hear. Silver's lips are close enough that Benedict doesn't have any distance to close as he catches them in a kiss, and he brings his hands up to tug Silver's hips closer still.
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The kiss is deepened, Silver drawing away only to bite at the other's lip playfully, murmuring inaudibly as he begins to place kisses down the other's neck.
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Then it’s back to more insistent kissing. Benedict’s fingers find their way into Silver’s curls, nesting in among them.