Thank You!
You found it! This is the exclusive bonus content hub for Better Late. As a huge thank you for reading, we’ve put together some extra material that you won’t find anywhere else.
EXCLUSIVE BONUS CONTENT
Anniversary
This scene takes place one year after the epilogue.
Content Warning: Explicit sexual content. This is the uncut, extended version—you’ve been warned. 🔥
NOAH
The pillow wall was getting a workout tonight.
“Okay,” Ben said, stacking the fourth pillow with exaggerated precision. “The structural integrity is crucial. We can’t have a premature collapse.”
“You’re taking this very seriously.”
“I take all pillow-related architecture seriously.” Ben placed the final pillow and stepped back, surveying his work. “There. Impenetrable.”
Noah raised an eyebrow. “Impenetrable?”
“Well.” Ben’s mouth curved. “Temporarily impenetrable. Until I penetrate it.”
“That was terrible.”
“You love my terrible jokes.”
“I love you. The jokes I tolerate.”
Ben clutched his chest in mock offense, but his eyes were warm. He was wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants, and the lamp light caught the planes of his chest, the definition of his stomach, the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his waistband.
One year together. Twelve months of learning each other’s bodies, each other’s rhythms, each other’s secret wants.
And tonight—their anniversary—Ben had suggested they revisit the beginning.
“So,” Noah said, climbing onto his side of the bed. “We’re really doing this? Role-playing our own relationship?”
“We’re commemorating our relationship.” Ben settled onto his side, the pillow wall between them. “There’s a difference.”
“And the difference is…?”
“The difference is that last time, I was terrified and confused and had no idea what I was doing.” Ben’s voice softened. “This time, I know exactly what I want.”
Noah’s stomach flipped.
“What do you want?”
Ben reached across the wall—slowly, deliberately, the way he hadn’t been able to do that first night—and rested his hand on Noah’s chest.
“I want to take you apart,” he said. “Piece by piece. The way I was too scared to do back then.”
Noah’s breath caught.
“And the pillow wall?”
Ben’s grin was wicked.
“I’m going to destroy it.”
BEN
He’d been planning this for weeks.
The anniversary had snuck up on him at first—he still wasn’t great at remembering dates, even the important ones—but once he’d realized it was coming, he’d become obsessed with making it perfect.
Not perfect in the old way. Not the carefully planned, passionless gestures he used to make with Elena. But perfect in the way Noah deserved: thoughtful, playful, and absolutely filthy.
“Close your eyes,” Ben said.
Noah’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”
“Because I asked nicely.”
“That was nice?”
“Please close your eyes, you beautiful disaster of a human being.”
Noah laughed, but he closed his eyes.
Ben reached under his pillow—where he’d stashed supplies earlier, like the tactical genius he was—and pulled out the blindfold.
“Okay,” he said. “Keep them closed. I’m going to put something on you.”
“That’s ominous.”
“It’s silk.”
“Slightly less ominous.”
Ben leaned across the pillow wall—still intact, for now—and tied the blindfold carefully over Noah’s eyes. The black silk looked gorgeous against his skin, and the way Noah’s lips parted at the loss of sight made Ben’s blood heat.
“Good?” Ben asked.
“Good.” Noah’s voice was already rougher than before. “What now?”
“Now—” Ben settled back on his side of the wall, looking at Noah laid out before him, blindfolded and waiting. “—you’re going to stay on your side, and I’m going to stay on mine, and I’m going to tell you exactly what I wanted to do to you that first night.”
Noah shivered. “We’re not touching?”
“Not yet.” Ben let his voice drop lower, the register that always made Noah squirm. “First, I’m going to make you want it. The way I wanted it back then, lying in the dark, so hard I couldn’t think.”
“Ben—”
“I used to listen to you breathe.” Ben kept his voice steady, even as his own arousal pressed insistently against his sweatpants. “On the other side of the wall. I’d lie there and imagine what you looked like—whether you slept on your back or your stomach, whether you wore a shirt to bed, whether you touched yourself when you thought I was asleep.”
Noah made a small sound. His hand twitched on the blanket.
“Did you?” Ben asked. “Touch yourself, thinking about me?”
“Yes.” The admission was barely a whisper.
“Tell me.”
“I—” Noah’s throat worked. “After you’d fall asleep. I’d lie there and listen to you breathing, and I’d think about your hands. How big they were. How they’d feel on me.”
“Where would they feel, Noah?”
“Everywhere.” Noah’s hips shifted restlessly. “I’d imagine you rolling over, ignoring the wall, just—taking what you wanted. Putting your hands on my chest, my stomach, lower—”
“Like this?” Ben reached across the wall and laid his palm flat on Noah’s bare stomach.
Noah gasped, muscles jumping under Ben’s touch.
“Yes,” he breathed. “Like that.”
Ben stroked slowly, tracing the planes of Noah’s abdomen, feeling him tremble. The pillow wall was in the way, forcing him to stretch, making the angle awkward—but that was part of the game. The barrier that couldn’t quite keep them apart.
“You’re still on your side,” Ben murmured. “Such a good boy, following the rules.”
Noah whimpered.
Oh, that’s new.
“You like that?” Ben let his fingers drift lower, toying with the waistband of Noah’s boxers. “Being good for me?”
“Ben, please—”
“Please what?”
“The wall.” Noah’s voice was wrecked. “Get rid of the wall.”
Ben smiled, slow and satisfied.
“Since you asked so nicely.”
NOAH
The pillows hit the floor, and then Ben was on him.
It happened fast—one second the barrier was there, and the next Ben was between Noah’s thighs, his weight pressing Noah into the mattress, his mouth hot and demanding on Noah’s throat.
“Fuck—” Noah arched into him, hands scrabbling at Ben’s back. The blindfold was still on, and the darkness made everything sharper—the rasp of Ben’s stubble, the heat of his skin, the hard press of his erection against Noah’s hip.
“I’ve got you,” Ben murmured against his neck. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. Just hold you down and take my time.”
“Please—”
“We’ve got all night.” Ben’s teeth grazed Noah’s collarbone. “And I’m going to use every minute of it.”
He worked his way down Noah’s body with devastating patience. Mouth on his chest, tongue circling one nipple while his fingers found the other. Noah gasped and writhed, pinned by Ben’s weight, the blindfold stealing his ability to anticipate.
“You’re so responsive,” Ben said against his skin. “I could spend hours just doing this.”
“You’re going to kill me.”
“Maybe.” Ben bit down gently, and Noah cried out. “But what a way to go.”
Lower. Ben’s mouth tracing down his stomach, following the path his hands had taken earlier. Noah’s boxers disappeared—he wasn’t sure when, just knew suddenly there was nothing between him and the cool air and Ben’s heated gaze.
“God, you’re beautiful.” Ben’s voice was reverent. “Do you know how long I spent not letting myself look at you? All those mornings in the shower, keeping my eyes on the tile like my life depended on it.”
“Ben—”
“Now I get to look whenever I want.” Ben’s breath ghosted over Noah’s cock, which was so hard it hurt. “And I want to look at you while I take you apart.”
He took Noah into his mouth without warning.
Noah shouted, hips bucking, hands fisting in the sheets. The blindfold made everything more intense—he couldn’t see Ben, could only feel, and Ben was doing things with his tongue that should be illegal in most states.
“Oh fuck, oh god, Ben—”
Ben pulled off just long enough to say, “Touch me.”
Noah’s hand flew to Ben’s hair, gripping hard enough to make Ben groan. The vibration around his cock sent sparks shooting up his spine.
“I’m not going to last,” Noah gasped. “If you keep—oh—”
Ben pulled off again, and Noah made a sound that was definitely a whine.
“Not yet.” Ben’s voice was rough, affected. “I told you I was going to take my time.”
“Fuck your time.”
Ben laughed, low and dark. “Later. Right now—” He pressed a kiss to Noah’s hip bone. “—I want to be inside you when you come.”
Noah’s brain short-circuited.
They’d done this before, of course. Many times. But something about tonight—the blindfold, the pillow wall, the deliberate recreation of that first desperate night—made it feel new again. Like discovering each other for the first time, with all the knowledge they’d gathered since.
“Please,” Noah said. “Please, Ben, I need—”
“I know what you need.”
The snick of a cap. The slick slide of fingers. Noah spread his legs wider, welcoming, desperate for more.
Ben worked him open slowly, one finger, then two, stretching and stroking until Noah was a writhing mess beneath him.
“You take it so well.” Ben’s voice was strained now, his own control fraying. “Like you were made for me.”
“I was,” Noah gasped. “Ben, please, I’m ready, I need you—”
Ben pulled his fingers free and lined himself up.
And then, finally, finally, he pushed inside.
BEN
Nothing compared to this.
Not the first time, fumbling and nervous. Not the times since, no matter how good they’d been. This—Noah blindfolded and spread beneath him, trusting him completely, their bodies joined in the bed where it had all started—this was everything.
Ben bottomed out and held still, giving them both a moment to adjust. Noah was tight and hot around him, inner muscles fluttering, and Ben had to grit his teeth against the urge to just take.
“Okay?” he managed.
“Move.” Noah’s hands found his shoulders, nails digging in. “Move, Ben, please—”
Ben moved.
He started slow, long deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot, pulling breathy moans from Noah’s throat. The blindfold was still in place, and Ben couldn’t look away from Noah’s face—the parted lips, the flushed cheeks, the way his brow furrowed with pleasure.
“You feel incredible,” Ben told him, speeding up. “So tight. So perfect. I could stay inside you forever.”
“Ben—” Noah’s legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Harder. I need—”
Ben gave him harder.
The bed creaked beneath them, headboard knocking against the wall. Ben drove into Noah with everything he had, chasing the sounds he made—the gasps, the moans, the broken repetitions of Ben’s name like a prayer.
“Touch yourself,” Ben ordered. “I want to feel you come around me.”
Noah’s hand flew to his cock, stroking fast, and Ben felt it when he got close—the way his body tightened, the way his rhythm stuttered.
“That’s it,” Ben groaned. “Come for me. Let me see you.”
Noah came with a cry, spilling over his own fist, clenching down on Ben so hard it almost hurt. The sight of him—blindfolded, wrecked, beautiful—pushed Ben over the edge seconds later.
He buried himself deep and came with Noah’s name on his lips.
NOAH
The blindfold came off slowly, Ben’s fingers gentle as he untied the silk.
Noah blinked against the lamplight, vision adjusting. Ben’s face swam into focus above him—flushed, satisfied, so full of love it made Noah’s chest ache.
“Hi,” Ben said softly.
“Hi yourself.”
“Good anniversary?”
Noah laughed weakly. His whole body felt like liquid—boneless and blissed out and utterly content.
“The best,” he said. “Though I think we traumatized the headboard.”
“The headboard has seen worse.”
“Has it, though?”
Ben grinned and collapsed beside him, pulling Noah into his arms. They were both sweaty and sticky and should probably shower, but neither of them moved.
“I love you,” Ben murmured into Noah’s hair. “Have I mentioned that?”
“Once or twice.”
“I should mention it more.” Ben pressed a kiss to his temple. “I love you. I love our weird pillow wall rituals. I love that you let me blindfold you. I love that you’re the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night.”
“Getting sappy in your old age.”
“I’ve earned the right to be sappy.” Ben’s arms tightened around him. “Happy anniversary, Noah.”
Noah closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Ben’s body seep into him.
“Happy anniversary,” he said.
Outside, the city hummed with life. Inside, the pillow wall lay in ruins on the floor.
And in the bed they’d shared for a year—the bed where it had all started, where a barrier had become a bridge—two men held each other and didn’t let go.
Some walls were meant to be destroyed.
And some loves were worth waiting for.
— The End (For Real This Time) —