Roommates

Notes: This is POV of the most minor character in the movie, who somehow in my head became a rather sexually liberated gay man. (My apologies to Jason Flemyng.) As a result when I tried to write this, it... kind of became all about the sex. A lot of sex. In fact, the working title for this was "angsty roommate sex". ^^; Mind you, it's character/plot developing sex, but... um.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roommates

I first met Ben Carson after I was accepted to the New York City Police Academy, just after my 21st birthday. I'd pulled his name off a bulletin board, one of the many cadets-to-be looking for a roommate to share the rent while going to school. The name sounded familiar, and I thought perhaps we'd gone to school together at some point, though checking my yearbook turned up nothing.

Ben had secured a small, two bedroom unit in one of the nearby apartment buildings that catered heavily to cadets, enough so that it had gained the unofficial moniker of "the dorms", and when I called him he said his only criteria for a roommate was that I liked classic rock and knew how to work an air conditioning machine. I laughed and assured him on both counts, and two weeks later found myself taking the elevator to the sixth floor suite, a rented truck outside containing my small amount of worldly belongings.

When I knocked lightly on the door to apartment 627, I heard a bang and a muffled curse, the door opening moments later. "Larry Byrne?"

It took me every inch of concentration not to stare at the guy who stood before me in a dusty t-shirt and ripped jeans, his honey blonde hair cropped short and tousled from, I assumed, the exertions of moving in. I smiled, forcing myself to look away from clear blue eyes and the equally treacherous answering smile. "Yeah. Ben?"

"That's me." He stepped back into the apartment, drawing the back of his forearm across his forehead to wipe away sweat, leaving a dust smear in its place. "Sorry it's so hot in here, I wasn't kidding when I said I needed someone who could work the air con. I'm completely useless with it. If you want to get it started, I can help you haul your stuff up here?"

I tore my attention away from his mouth - just my luck that my new roommate would have the most beautiful, perfectly shaped lips on the planet - following his indication to the rather decrepit looking air conditioning unit that was bolted into into one of the living room windows. "Looks like the same piece of shit I just left behind," I joked, navigating around the stacks of boxes and randomly placed furniture to reach it.

A few tightened screws and well placed thumps later, the machine was chugging along, slowly cooling the apartment. Ben helped me bring up my futon, desk, bureau and various boxes, laughing and joking with me, then followed me in his car - a well loved station wagon - to the rental place to drop off the truck. I bought a case of beer on the way home and thanked him for his help - not all roomies would give a damn, and I told him as much. He just laughed and shook his head. "We're going to have to put up with each other for at least a year, right? So we'll help each other out. It's no big deal."

I found myself liking him immediately - not because he was gorgeous, which he was - but because he just seemed like a genuinely nice guy. It was refreshing, and somehow I felt immediately comfortable around him.

We ordered pizza and cracked open a couple cans of beer, setting to organizing the kitchen. "Are you okay with the room with the ensuite?" he asked, crouched down as he tried to arrange pots in the low cabinet by the stove. "I just kind of assumed it would be easier to have your own bathroom. I don't mind if you bring home girls, by the way."

"Yeah, it's fine. But bringing home girls isn't really my style, don't worry," I found myself replying, and glanced down at him when I realized he hadn't replied for a while. He was regarding me thoughtfully, one eyebrow slightly quirked.

"... boys then?"

I tried not to choke, pushing it away like I had always told myself I would. "No no, just - you know. Don't really do casual relationships."

The quirked eyebrow turned into a little smile. "I don't care if it's boys, honestly."

"It's not."

"Will you hate me if I say bullshit?"

I looked away with a little uneasy laugh and gave in. "... how did you know?"

"I didn't, but you turned bright red as soon as I mentioned girls, and you're too good looking to still be a virgin." He straightened and closed the cupboard doors, catching my gaze. "I honestly don't care, Larry."

"Not many people can look me in the eye and say that," I replied after a moment, and smiled. "... thanks. Um... don't spread this around, you know... it's not exactly the most welcoming career for gays."

"Really?" He frowned. "I'd never thought about it. That's unfair..."

"A lot of things are," I murmured, leaning against the fridge and echoing his little frown. "And I'm kind of shit when it comes to staying in the closet, it seems."

He shrugged. "I'll cover for you. Just get yourself more used to people assuming you sleep with women so you stop blushing like a schoolgirl, and I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Thanks, Ben." I chuckled softly. "Just have to hope for the best, I think."

"Or we could just give you an out of state girlfriend." He grinned when I glanced up at him. "Gone off to college. Say she's studying nursing in... Baltimore. Your lovely Pamela."

I choked. "Pamela and her five fingers, Ben?"

"Shit - okay, so not Pamela, then. Lucy. Lucy and Larry. You're completely mad for her, you even gave her a promise ring before she left. Pick a last name."

"Thompson?" I supplied weakly, and he grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

"Lucy Thompson. Five foot three, because tiny girls love tall men. Dark hair in a bob, a heart shaped face and... green eyes, I think. Pretty striking, Larry."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Brunette. Striking. All right."

He finished his beer, and I tossed him another from the fridge, gulping back mine. I choked on the dregs when he continued, "And if it's a guy that asks, you say that she's the hottest little piece of ass in Manhattan."

"Ben!"

"Seriously! You're gonna be a police officer, you have to have that secret crude streak." He cracked open the beer and took a sip. "She's on scholarship of course, can't afford to take a lot of trips back to come see you. Staying with her aunt while she goes to school. I met her 'cause I took you both to the train station. She has a very fine ass indeed."

"All right," I agreed, chuckling as I put away the last of the coffee mugs. "I should tell my mother about this, she'd think it's hilarious."

"She knows about you?"

"I think mothers always know," I replied, helping myself to another piece of pizza, pulling off a curled piece of pepperoni and popping it in my mouth. "My dad, well... he's hoping that being a police officer will "cure" me. I let him believe his delusion, it makes things easier." He fell silent again, and when I glanced up at him he was staring out into the living room, eyebrows knit slightly. "You have family, Ben?"

He gave his head a slight shake, as if to clear it, turning back to me. "Just my little sister Angie. My mother died of cancer eight years ago and my father was killed in the line of duty last year." A little shrug. "Sometimes it feels like it hasn't quite sunk in yet. He was really proud that I'd decided to follow in his footsteps...."

Suddenly the familiarity clicked into place. Carson. "Your father was the chief of police."

Ben managed a little half smile, somewhere between grim and heartbreaking. "Yeah."

I remembered the headlines well, remembered my mother going on and on about me needing to choose another path before I got myself killed, because if the chief of police could die in a shootout then how safe was just a regular officer? "Jesus, Ben... I'm so sorry."

"Thanks." Ben sounded a little awkward, as if he still wasn't used to talking about it, and I was immediately sorry to have brought it up. He took a long swallow of beer, then turned to me with a cheerfulness that wasn't entirely genuine, but I didn't push the issue. "Lets get back to unpacking, hey?"

We both drank entirely too much that evening, talking late into the night about everything and anything over a stream of action movies that played on his small TV set. When I finally stumbled to my room to fall into bed, it was with the sense that somehow, through some twist of fate, I'd been very, very lucky to move in with Ben Carson.

~~~~~~


Ben and I ended up with a lot more in common than just classic rock and wanting to be a police officer. Watching hockey or cheesy action movies over beer and pizza became a regular occurrence, as regular as helping each other cram facts into our heads before tests. The TV got much better reception after I fucked with the cable, and in return, Ben took over the kitchen, completely banning me from it the first time he caught me eating instant rice in canned tomato soup.

It was strange to me - a good kind of strange, but still strange none the less - to find myself developing a close friendship with a straight man. I'd realized my sexuality early on in high school, and almost three years of hiding myself from the guys around me was more than enough. After that, I didn't get close to someone unless I felt reasonably confident that they would accept me without question. Ben, however, was so easygoing that he never even so much as flinched at anything I said, and the freedom to be myself around him when I once again had to pretend around my instructors and classmates was nothing less than a godsend.

I liked Ben, much more than I should. But it wasn't the first crush I'd had on a completely unattainable man, and I didn't let it affect our friendship. He never guessed - I was very careful to never give him a clue - but I couldn't explain why Ben kept passing out in my room after he went out drinking. It was something that had started happening about a month into the school term and was still happening every other weekend or so, a bit more frequently with Christmas approaching. I'd rationalized it a million different ways that most definitely did not involve any possibility that my roommate wanted something other than a soft place to sleep when drunk that was closer to a bathroom, and for the most part the rationalizations held true. I didn't reveal my feelings or otherwise embarrass myself, even with him sleeping inches from me, half dressed and gorgeous. I didn't stop him, though I knew I should. It was agonizing, to have Ben flop down next to me as he did one night in November, stripped down to his boxers with this clothes kicked off onto the floor. He was warm and pliant and tipsy, his skin flushed and hair tousled. Maybe, truthfully, I didn't want him to stop him.

Ben was so fucking beautiful like this.

It definitely didn't make it any easier for me to lay here and pretend I wasn't attracted to him, though. I tore his gaze away from the lines of Ben's well muscled shoulders, reaching over to turn off my bedside light again, sending the room into darkness apart from the small amount that came in from the outside window. "I still don't know why my bed's so much more comfy than yours," I joked, laying back without really expecting an answer. Ben was too drunk for wise ass remarks.

What I didn't expect was the sudden movement next to me, the arm that slipped between the covers and my stomach, Ben's body fitting warm against his side. What I definitely never, ever expected despite my wildest dreams of it were the lips that pressed to mine suddenly, warm and unsure and trembling slightly. The combination of his forwardness and nervousness was suddenly more of a turn on than I ever expected. I drew a sharp gasp against Ben's mouth, body reacting as my mind still groped for understanding, and before I realized it I was kissing Ben back with a low groan, turning into him and pulling him closer.

My mind kicked in quickly with a thousand panicked reprimands, like how absolutely retarded I was to be even thinking of this let alone doing this, sucking at my roommates beautiful lips hungrily like I'd dreamed of so many times. I really had to stop this, definitely had to push Ben away immediately, because - oh god, his tongue felt good, swiping at my full bottom lip before catching it between his teeth. Ben nibbled at it more gently that I would have expected, sucking at the soft flesh in a way that pulled a little helpless groan from deep in my throat. His strong hands smoothed hungrily over my chest through the thin cotton t-shirt, slipping up under the hem to stroke my bare sides, and I felt my cock harden traitorously as Ben's tongue pushed into my mouth, hot and tasting of liquor, but somehow perfect all the same.

I knew I couldn't let this keep going, couldn't keep kissing, keep touching my roommate - my arguably very straight roommate, I reminded myself firmly. But then Ben was pushing me back onto my back, hips arching against mine insistently, cock tenting the front of his boxers and pressed hard against my thigh. Feeling him, knowing how hard he was just from kissing me completely eradicated the last traces of my self restraint, and before I knew it I had Ben's firm ass in my hands, clenching, pulling him down harder as I bucked up against him, just as hard as he was and craving more sensation. "God, Ben...."

My roommate didn't reply, apparently far more interested in the taste of my mouth, groaning low and throaty against my lips as he kissed harder, gasping for breath between kisses. They were warm and wet and a little clumsy from the alcohol I could taste on his lips, but hell if they weren't the hottest that I could remember in that moment, and definitely the most anticipated. Somehow my t-shirt had ended up bunched around my armpits, Ben's hands rubbing warm and strong over my sides and chest, and he gave a little noise of frustration at encountering the fabric, yanking it off over my head. It only made things more intoxicating, the feel of Ben's bare skin pressed against my own. His hips pressed a little harder to mine, and I let myself arch closer to him, slowly rolling my hips up against Ben's and groaning at the warm tease of friction my body craved so badly.

Ben gave a sharp hiss at the movement, bucking back against me without hesitation, grinding against me almost demandingly. "Oh fuck, that's good...."

I gave a breathless laugh despite myself, leaning in to catch his mouth again, nipping at his lips as Ben's hips continued the slow but insistent grind. It was good - almost maddeningly so despite still not feeling quite real, like I was going to wake up at any moment from the most intense wet dream of my life. And god, was it ever intense, having him on top of me. I tugged at the fabric of his boxers. "Better without these."

Ben caught my gaze as he pulled back, expression unreadable in the darkness, and for a moment I wondered if I'd said the wrong thing, pushed him too fast. Then he moved, tugging at my shorts frantically, a little clumsily until I wriggled enough for him to manage to yank them down to my knees. I kicked them off, half sitting to help Ben with his, then let him press me back down, settling between my thighs and leaning in to claim my mouth again with a shivering groan. His kisses were almost frantic, tasting and claiming my mouth as he rocked against me, cock pressed hot and hard against my stomach. I arched with him, drunk on the sensations and the heady rush of finally, finally having Ben, and wrapped my thighs up around his hips, trying to angle for more sensation. Finally I groped blindly beside the bed for lube, squeezing almost too much in my palm in haste. I shifted enough to get a hand between us, curling my fingers around his erection, and slicked my palm down his length, moaning out my appreciation of how good he felt in my hand. My eyes closed briefly at Ben's answering groan of pleasure as he bucked a little into my fingers, more than little eager for the touch. His reaction was almost maddeningly sexy, and I couldn't keep myself from thinking of other things, all the things I wanted so badly to do with Ben. The rub of his cock against my palm, hot and hard and thick, was tantalizing, reminding me with each buck of Ben's hips how nice it would be to have him buried deep inside me, thrusting hard and fast and deep, using me without restraint.

I shifted just a little instead to bring our cocks together and wrapped my fingers around both, gasping at the rush of sensation, at Ben's slick hardness rubbing against my own. Ben's fingers joined mine, unexpected but most definitely welcome, curling around our cocks with my hand. We were both slick with lube in no time, sliding hot in our joined grasp and against each other as Ben moved a little faster. His head fell to the pillow beside me, drawing breath in hard gasps, almost trembling against me. "Oh fuck, Larry. Oh god, fuck - don't stop - !"

There was no risk of that, absolutely none, not with Ben on top of me, thrusting into my fingers almost frantically, his weight pressing me down into the bed. I could feel my pleasure build quickly, the head of Ben's cock rubbing up the sensitive underside of my own with each thrust, and I clenched helplessly at Ben's shoulder with my free hand, trying to focus, to hold off. I was whimpering despite myself, caught up in the intensity of sensation and almost trembling with the need to come, lips forming Ben's name without hardly even realizing it. Then I felt Ben's mouth on my neck, kissing and sucking and nipping hungrily, groaning variations of, "Oh fuck yes, Larry -!" and somehow his throaty tones drove home how real this all was, and it was about all I could take.

He bucked tense against me, biting down at the crook of my neck to muffle his cry of pleasure, and my fingers flooded with warmth as Ben thrust shallowly against me, shuddering with the pleasure of his climax. It was the last straw and absolutely perfect, and I bit my lip hard to keep from yelling as my own pleasure broke free, shuddering and arching into Ben's touch as I came, seed mingling with Ben's in my fingers and on my chest. For the moment, though, I didn't care about the mess, riding high on the bliss of climax and the feel of Ben against me.

For a time we just stayed like that, pressed close, breath in hot pants. Then I forced myself to move, grabbing a couple of tissues from the box beside the bed and handing them to Ben before cleaning my own fingers off, swiping at the streaks of ejaculate on my chest. Ben chuckled softly, helping me more attentively than I would have expected. Then he leaned in to catch my mouth, warm and surprisingly tender, curling up against my shoulder and quickly falling fast asleep.

I laid awake for a while afterwards, letting my face rest against Ben's hair, breathing in deep of his scent and thinking about far too much. I couldn't allow myself the hope that this was something more than a drunken fumble, and the fear that everything would go to shit the next morning was a heavy weight. Still, I couldn't entirely push away the warmth and elation of having done this - even just having kissed Ben, kissed that beautiful mouth - and each time I thought back on kissing him it sent such a surge of joy through my veins.

Eventually, my mind quieted, and I fell back asleep.


Ben was gone the next morning when I woke, but it wasn't unexpected. Even after drinking Ben usually found the willpower to crawl back to his own bed at some point, sleeping late and avoiding my love of early morning work outs. I staggered sleepily into the bathroom that attached to my room, showering quickly and dressing to go out for a run. It would help take my mind off things, keep me from worrying more about what had happened and what was going to happen as a result of what we'd done.

Surprisingly, Ben was already in the kitchen making coffee when I came out, and I watched him for a moment, trying to read him, to prepare myself for how to react. Ben caught my eye, but didn't say anything, simply looking back a little contemplatively for a long moment. Then he added cream and sugar to one of the cups of coffee, crossing the kitchen silently to hand it to me.

"Thanks," I managed to say, watching as Ben merely nodded, not stepping away or pulling his hand from the cup for a long moment. Then he moved his hand, hovering hesitantly for a moment by my face, moving finally to run his thumb slowly along my lips, making me draw a soft breath despite myself.

Ben gave a little half smile, relaxing, and the look in his eyes was suddenly so peaceful that I couldn't bring himself to question anything. I felt myself breathe easier as Ben patted my shoulder lightly, then went back to his own coffee. We didn't say anything of the night before, but maybe it was better that way, to just treat it like it hadn't been a big deal. The awkwardness it melted away quickly enough, and we were friends like nothing more had ever happened.

It was, I reflected, probably the best I could have expected - no freaking out, no hatred, and no sudden pressure for a relationship, which I'd seen often enough when straight men decided to try out the other team. It probably wouldn't happen again, but I could handle that. A taste of Ben was so much more than I'd hoped for, and to be able to keep talking and joking with him afterwards like nothing had happened was worth all the sex in the world to me.

~~~~


I wasn't surprised the first time I was called out at the academy, just after Christmas. Or rather, I was, but only that it had taken so long. Perhaps Ben's fake girlfriend idea had worked better than I'd thought it would. We were playing ball in the gym over lunch with a bunch of the guys, warm and sweaty and laughing, when I intercepted a pass and a too-enthusiastic player at the same time, both of us going down in a tangle of limbs.

"Sorry," I said immediately, trying to get back to my feet, only to have the guy shove me back with surprising force.

"Get the hell off me, faggot."

My stomach flipped, and I saw Ben stiffen out of the corner of my eye. Still, I knew my reaction meant everything, so I got to my feet with a scoff, trying to play it off, like I'd coached myself to do a thousand times in my mind. "Look, cocksucker, you ran into me. So just chill out."

"Chill out?" They guy - Bob Giddings, I remembered, was livid. "Fuck you ginger, you tried to cop a feel! We shouldn't have fags playing basketball!"

I felt my fingers clench into fists, panic rising quickly, a colourful litany of profanity streaming through my head. But I couldn't instigate this - fuck, they could kick me out even for reciprocating if they wanted one less fag in the academy, twisting the events to make everything my fault. Conduct unbecoming a cadet. "Jesus - Dolly, is that you? I didn't recognize you without the lipstick and high heels. How's the drag scene these days, ya queen?"

Half the guys around us laughed nervously, thank god, but what I wasn't prepared for was the hand that grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me back just as Bob surged toward me, stepping between the two of us. I only knew Lorenzo passably well, and mostly because he was an avid basketball player who was tall enough to step on anyone in our class. He was definitely the last person I'd had expected to get involved in a confrontation like this. "Hey, that's enough. Either of you have a problem with fags, you take it up with me and my baby cousin, 'cause I'll help that fag kick both your asses. And they prefer the term 'female impersonators', not queens."

It took me a second to get over the completely unexpected words, but I held up both hands, a show of chastisement. "Sorry - no offence meant, Lorenzo."

Bob gave a brisk nod in agreement, not happy but not willing to yield under Lorenzo's shivering gaze. "Time to get back to class, anyway."

We broke up, and somehow I wasn't surprised to just overhear Ben give him a muttered thanks. I caught the man in the corner of the locker room, keeping my voice low and waiting for most of the others to clear out. "Hey... thanks, really."

Lorenzo shrugged. "I'm not afraid to speak my mind. But you've got balls, enrolling here, let me tell you."

I gave a soft laugh under his breath. "Don't know about that, I'm probably just completely daft. But it was my dream." I glanced up at my classmate. "Is your cousin really gay?"

Lorenzo chuckled, low and easy. "You should already know, Larry. At least according to what he tells me about last summer." A wink, and he disappeared, just as Ben came back from the showers.

"You have something to do with that?" I asked Ben quietly as he dressed, still puzzling over his parting words.

"His cousin Antonio goes to school with Angie," Ben replied, his voice low, pulling his undershirt on over his head. "The kid's had a hard time. It isn't right." He glanced up at me, expression serious. "And not here either."

"Thanks," I said softly, leaning back against the lockers and watching him, though Ben just gave a sharp nod, doing up his jeans and stuffing his feat into shoes.

Suddenly, things clicked into place in my memory. "...oh, fuck me."

Ben glanced up with a soft laugh. "What?"

"Angie's in her senior year, right?"

"Yeah?"

"And this guy's name's Antonio? Margaridi? Senior year? Little fucker swore he was legal. Oh god, I'm going to hell."

Ben burst out laughing, closing the locker door and patting me on the back. "Welcome to the real world, Larry.

~~~~~

I'd thought, after the first time that we'd made love, that it wouldn't happen again, that Ben was done with whatever experimental urge that had caused it to happen in the first place. He certainly hadn't brought it up again, and neither had I. We'd been busy at the academy, and when Ben went out drinking with a couple of classmates on a Friday night, I declined the invitation to go along, staying home and doing some reading. I loved drinking with Ben, but pretending to care about girls took more energy than I cared to expend on that particular night. When I turned out the light at midnight and went to bed, Ben still wasn't home.

I was awoken two hours later, according to my alarm clock, by the front door closing. I turned over sleepily, trying to ignore it, and had almost dozed off again when the door to my bedroom door pushed open. I heard the sound of Ben's jeans hitting the carpet, and before I could react, he was climbing into bed with me.

"How was it?" I asked, trying sleepily to pull my mind back together to deal with the rush of adrenaline and arousal that had spiked through my veins at the reality of having Ben in my bed again. He didn't answer, however, simply pressing in against me and catching my mouth with his own.

I was already moaning, arching closer to Ben before I could think, returning his kisses just as hungrily. The nagging feeling of this being wrong and a very bad idea returned, but the fact that we'd already done this once and gotten out of the ditch shiny side up didn't really help dissuade me. We could do this again, right? And god help me, I wanted it.

"Wish you'd come out with me," Ben whispered, breath hot on my skin as he kissed along my jaw to nip at my earlobe, drawing a sharp gasp from my lips. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying very hard not to wonder about his words, not to think about what he could mean. What was this to him? And did I really want to know?"

"Larry..." he breathed, but I cut him off, catching his mouth in a firm kiss.

"Less talking, more kissing," I growled, and he chuckled, low and throaty, the laugh shuddering down my spine and straight to my cock. The order seemed to agree with him very well, and he returned my kisses with more than a little enthusiasm, tongue swiping against my lips, then kissing me deeper. His fingers clenched in my t-shirt at the small of my back, pulling me closer, legs tangling with mine as we arched together. He was just as hard as he had been the first time, I realized with a thrill, a rush of elation that added to my own arousal. Hard and almost naked next to me - in bed with me, kissing me, aroused because of me.

We were nude in next to no time at all, kicking off shorts and Ben yanking off my t-shirt so that bare skin pressed against skin. It was a heady thing, arching and grinding with him, building each other's desire with kisses and touch. He kissed and nipped along my shoulders, sucking hard enough that I knew he'd be leaving marks, but I couldn't care. I loved it, I needed him so badly, and the shivers of pleasure-pain from the pull of his mouth were absolutely delicious to me, bright and vibrant and real.

When he tried to press me onto my back, I caught his face in my hands, tugging that teasing mouth from my skin and kissing it firmly. Then I turned the tables, urging him back as my lips found his throat, kissing and licking at the hollow. Nipping at his collarbone made his whole body buck tense against me with a little helpless groan, shivering and needy. It near broke my patience as I kissed and licked over his chest, my fingers curling around his erection, stroking him as I teased one nipple with my teeth. He was so hard in my palm, and I stroked him slowly, smoothing my thumb over the slick of precome at the tip and rubbing it into his skin.

"God, Larry...." His voice was almost helpless, fingers clenching in my hair as he arched towards me to encourage more. "Oh fuck, the things you do to me...!"

The idea was a heady one, fucking, and I almost asked for it before I could stop myself. It was too early for that, I couldn't push him to that extreme, not now. Instead I did the next best thing, kissing quickly down his abdomen and kneeling between his thighs, taking the head of his cock in my mouth.

"Fuck - !" Ben's reaction was worth any trouble this might bring me later, the way he jerked tense under me as my mouth closed around him, how the press of my tongue at the underside made him curse more and thrust shallowly up into my mouth. I always enjoyed this, having my partner's pleasure entirely at my command as I aroused them with kisses and teasing swipes of my tongue, loving the feel of a hard, flushed cock in my mouth. I enjoyed it most on men like Ben, strong and passionate and dominant, and I sucked at the slight bitterness at his tip, pressing my tongue against his point of issue to lap up more, to hear him groan in pleasure, low and throaty. His fingers tangled in my hair, and I could feel his need through them, trembling slightly with self restraint. I appreciated it - I wouldn't really have minded if he'd held me in place and fucked my mouth until he came, but there were much nicer things I could do when given the opportunity.

I lavished attention on the head of his cock, working my tongue against him, tracing the ridges, teasing the tight stretched frenulum just under the head. My free hand curled around the base of his cock, stroking him slowly and very much enjoying the way he shuddered under me, hips arched tense as if craving more. Every reaction was encouraging, the way his hands stroked restlessly over my hair and shoulders, and oh god, the things that came from his lips: "Oh fuck Larry - your mouth, god! Oh god please, please don't stop, fuck...!"

I gave an appreciative hum around him as I took more of him in my mouth. My eyes fell closed to focus on the pleasure of it, the scent of his arousal and the feel of him warm and hard between my lips, the head of his cock rubbing against the roof of my mouth as I pulled back, taking him gradually deeper as I moved on him. My free hand slipped down to encircle my own erection, too aroused by what I was doing to resist the urge, stroking slow and firm as I continued to work at him, groaning around him.

Ben's breath came in hard, gasped pants, in soft curses and half coherent entreaties for more until I finally relaxed and took him up to the hilt, swallowing around him with a throaty groan and breathing in deep the heady mixture of sweat and musk and Ben. I held him for a few tantalizing moments, letting him shudder under me, his fingers digging into my shoulders. He actually whimpered when I pulled back, words husky and desperate. "Again, please - oh god, Larry!" And I did, though I would have obliged even if he hadn't asked, drunk on his reactions, the way his hips bucked under me just a little, his cries of pleasure. It made me hotter than I could have ever imagined, and I stroked myself more firmly, fingers slick with my own arousal as I worked myself, swallowing him again and again.

"Going to fucking make me come, Larry," I heard him gasp, and I groaned around him, taking him deep into my throat again. Of course he'd warn me, but I wanted this - needed to feel him climax, needed to taste him. His fingers clenched tight at my shoulder, his bucking up into my mouth with enough desperation that I almost gagged but managed to take it, feeling him pulse in my mouth, spurting hot and thick. I drew him through it with a soft groan of triumph, sucking and swallowing and coaxing everything from him with my lips and tongue. The elation of getting him off gave me almost as much pleasure as physical stimulation, and I continued to whimper around him, stroking myself somewhat desperately as my own pleasure built unstoppably quick.

I didn't pull back until he relaxed, his hips easing down to the bed, pulling from my mouth. "Come here." Ben's voice was breathless, but insistent, and I gave a soft, choked moan at the interruption, aching with the need to come.

"Ben...."

"Come here," he said again, pulling me up into his arms almost forcibly to catch my mouth with his, warm and somehow possessive. His hand slipped down to push mine away and take over, stroking me firm and even, his thumb slicking through the wetness on the head of my cock. It was more than I could take, and I bucked up into his fingers as I came, Ben's mouth on mine to steal my cries of pleasure, fingers still stroking me through the shudders of orgasm.

He didn't move to pull away as I came, not seeming to care about the mess or how I must taste, his kisses warm and slow and more tender than I'd ever expected. I closed my eyes and tried not to think, tried to just enjoy the gentle caress of his lips on mine, his hand resting low on my groin, fingers tracing slow circles that were somehow possessive at the base of my cock. It was almost too much for me, too sweet, and it was hard not to adore him in that moment when I was so vulnerable in the aftermath of sex.

"Girls can't do it like that," he murmured, almost wonderingly, and I gave a soft laugh.

"Of course not. Girls don't know what it feels like," I replied, pushing away emotion and nipping at his bottom lip.

"Never thought about it that way," he replied slowly, forehead resting against mine as his free hand stroked up and down my spine, seeming unwilling to break the contact, despite how tired I knew he must be.

"Let's get some sleep," I whispered, indulging in a soft kiss to his forehead before pulling away. I cleaned us both up and took a long drink from the glass of water I'd left on my bedside table before offering it to him. He gave a wry smile and finished it, then tugged me back down into his arms again, curling around me and tugging my quilts over both of us. He fell asleep quickly, breath warm and deep and even against my hair, and I let myself relax against him where he'd tucked my head under his chin, like I was any other girl he might sleep with. Still, it was comforting, hearing the reassuring thud of his heartbeat, and eventually I fell back asleep, wrapped in the warmth of his arms and the scent of his cologne.

~~~~~


Going out drinking with Ben and other classmates that night had been a bad idea. It was too close to valentines and we were both single, too easy for my resolve to be distracted by the hordes of flowery decorations and words of romance. There were girls with us, and I talked and flirted almost as much as Ben did, and drank almost twice as much. I half expected him to take off with a girl, but a half hour before last call he declared to the others that I'd had far too much to drink, and steered me out of the bar and towards home.

What I didn't expect was the brush of his hand against my ass as we walked down the hall to our apartment, teasing and lingering for just a moment, but unmistakably suggestive. He pushed me up against the back of our front door as soon as we were inside, catching my mouth demandingly. I couldn't resist him, returning the kiss with a low, shuddering groan, arching up against him and pulling him closer. "God, Ben...."

It was different, kissing him when we were both fully clothed, but no less passionate. The alcohol left me warm and relaxed and quickly aroused by his hands stroking over me hungrily, smoothing down my sides and hips and thighs, finally slipping between me and the door to clench at my ass and pull my hips tight against his. I could feel myself hardening quickly against his thigh as he rocked against me, his mouth pulling from mine to kiss along my jaw and nip at my neck, groaning against my skin. Feeling Ben's hard cock through his jeans as he rocked against me was almost more arousing than anything else, and I tangled my fingers in the back of his shirt to pull him closer, grinding against him and groaning at the maddening friction between our constrained erections.

"Fuck, Larry...."

"Yes," I said before I could stop myself, hips bucking up against him. "Oh god please, yes...."

"Yes?" Ben sounded a little confused, a little dazed, and I caught his mouth with my own.

"Fuck me," I hissed against his mouth, grinding up against him again in what I hoped was an unmistakable display of how much I needed him. I knew I was pushing him, but it was too easy to forget about reason with the clumsy warm feeling of drunkenness. "You man enough, Ben?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, hands tightening on my ass even as he seemed to consider it. I let my hips rock against him again, watching him as I tried to catch my breath, crude encouragements tumbling out of my mouth almost unbidden. "Come on, Ben. You know you want to bury your cock in this tight ass...."

"Fuck it," he growled, and claimed my lips again, hands pushing between us to yank at the closure on my jeans. "Oh god yes, I do. I do. Oh, fuck...."

I pulled his t-shirt off over his head, wriggling a little to help him yank my jeans down my hips before starting to tug his undone. "My room."

Somehow we managed to get to my bed without mishap, though I wasn't sure how I'd manged to get out of my jeans without tripping over them. He tugged my boxers down as I shed my shirt, his fingers curling around my erection, stroking me slow and firm. "You really want this?" he murmured. "You're not just saying...."

I pressed my lips to his before he could finish, stealing his words with kisses as I cupped his cock through his boxers, teasing him for a moment before tugging them down to wrap my hand around him. "Want this more than you know," I said before I could stop myself, then urged him down into bed with me, kicking my boxers the rest of the way off. I grabbed for the lube in my bedside table as I watched him wriggle out of his shorts, squeezing an ample amount on my fingers. "Just give me a moment."

I reached back between my thighs to press my fingers into myself, impatient and clumsy and drawing a sharp hiss at the realization that I definitely shouldn't have started with two. I hadn't done this in some time, usually preferring to top, and my body wasn't entirely used to it. But it was hard to ignore the sense of urgency I felt, the need to take every piece of Ben that I could.

Ben's eyebrows knit slightly at my hiss, his smile a little worried, a little amused. "You sure about this?"

"Yes," I breathed, working my fingers deeper, the burn of penetration fading quickly enough. "Fuck yes, oh fuck...." I gave a breathless groan as his fingers curled around my erection, stroking slowly as he watched me through narrowed eyes.

"Kind of sexy, watching you do that."

I eased a third finger into myself, breath coming harder, trembling a little from his touch and the need that I felt for him. It took every inch of willpower to wait, fucking myself slowly on my fingers, but I knew that a little patience would make it so much better for both of us. "Because you know how much I want you to fuck me?"

He chuckled softly, leaning in to claim my mouth, kisses quickly growing hungry and needy. "Definitely," he growled, nipping at my bottom lip. He pulled back as I pressed a packaged condom into his hand, tearing it open with his teeth and rolling it on with practised ease.

I sat up, stroking more lube over his cock quickly, then settled on my hands and knees, looking back up at him. "Come on Ben. Show me."

I half expected sex to be overeager and clumsy, but Ben was as attentive and exact as he was with everything else. He started to press into me, rocking in slow, shallow thrusts that gradually pressed deeper. I tried to rock back against him, pulling breath in sharp gasps as I stretched around him, at the sweet hot pain of penetration that crawled up my spine. "God, that's it. Oh fuck Ben, you're so thick...."

The little buck of my hips showed me that my words had their intended effect, and he leaned over to press his lips to my shoulder, resting his weight on one arm beside mine. His free arm tightened around my waist, hand clenching at my hip as he held me securely, rocking deeper. "You okay?"

I pressed back against him as much as I could in reply, groaning at the shivers of sensation that crawled up my spine. "Oh yes. Yes, god, more!"

Ben pulled back with far more patience than I would have had, sucking at my neck as he did so, then filled me again with a hard thrust. It was exquisite and torturous all at the same time, and my fingers clenched at the bedding under me as I cried out, shuddering under him. "Ben - !"

"So tight," he gasped, a little incredulously, starting to move a little faster, hard and deep. "Feels so damn good, oh god!" His mouth was hot on my skin, nipping and sucking at my shoulder through throaty groans of pleasure. His hand moved to curl around my cock, stroking me firmly in time with his thrusts, pulling breathless cries from my throat as I tried to move with him, rocking between his hand and his cock.

I lowered myself to rest on my forearms, bracing myself more against his thrusts. "Oh god yes, fuck me - come on, Ben, god - !" My words caught in my throat as he shifted slightly, driving hard into me and connecting just right to send a flood of sensation through me, making me cry out. He faltered, and I pressed back against him as much as I could, words almost an order. "Again!"

Ben caught on quick, setting a pace that was hard and fast, angling so the head of his cock brushed against my sweet spot with every thrust. It drove me wild, the feel of his fingers tight around my cock, stroking me as he drove into me, hot and hard and thick inside me. I was almost wailing before I knew it, crying out helplessly under him as he pulled me over the edge, shuddering under him and around him as I came in his fingers. His thrusts grew almost erratic, bucking hard into me as his hand shifted to clench at my hip, and his fingers dug in hard as he came, buried deep inside me, his breath in a throaty cry.

For a long moment neither of us moved, curled together, panting from exertion. I tried to memorize the moment, the feeling of him still inside me and his weight over top of me, breath warm against my neck in the blissful aftermath of sex. I felt him nuzzle my hair and press a warm kiss to the back of my neck, pulling away carefully as his cock started to soften, then getting out of bed.

For a moment, I panicked. "Ben - "

"I'll be right back," came the soft reply, and he disappeared into my bathroom, returning a few minutes later with a warm, wet face cloth and one of my hand towels. I'd half collapsed onto my side, and he used the cloth to clean me off, throwing the towel down on the mattress with a little wry smile. Then he curled around me, pulling the comforter over us and nestling his face against my hair.

I closed my eyes, letting my head rest against his chest. "Ben?"

"Mmm?" His fingers smoothed down my spine slowly, warm and comforting.

I hesitated, then pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. "... thanks."

I felt his laugh as much as I heard it, a low, sleepy chuckle that thrummed through his chest. "Get some rest," he said gently, and I did.

~~~~~

When I woke the next morning, I was a little surprised to find him still with me, his fingers stroking slow circles on my back, and I wondered how long he'd been awake like this. I pulled back to find him watching me, and he gave a soft smile. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Hungover," I replied, and winced. "You?"

He gave a little nod, not really answering my question. "I'm going to make some coffee. You want any?"

"Mmmhmm," I managed, sitting up and blinking against the bright pain that was sunlight. "Thanks. I'm gonna have a quick shower." Showering, unfortunately, woke me up entirely, and I couldn't help replaying the night's events in my head. I turned the shower colder and tried not to fret about what Ben must be thinking, tried to reassure myself that this would be like the other times. Everything would be fine, wouldn't it?

I threw on running clothes, knowing that even hungover a short run and plenty of water would clear my head and do me good. More importantly, it would get me out of the apartment.

Ben was standing in front of the coffee maker when I came out, and had just poured two steaming mugs from the pot. He glanced up and gave me a smile that I thought seemed a little uncomfortable, and I glanced away.

"I'm sorry about last night," I muttered, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard before moving to the pantry to stare at the cereal boxes. "I was really drunk...."

"Are you?" he asked softly, and I turned.

"Am I what?"

"Really sorry?" Ben leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest, watching me. "Because I'm not."

"Oh," I heard myself reply, and immediately felt stupid. "Um, okay then. It's fine."

"Okay," he repeated, then stepped across the kitchen to hand me a cup of coffee. He didn't let go of the cup, though, watching me intently, and I felt a shiver of nervousness in my stomach. He gave another soft smile, this time reassuring. "Last night was great. Thank you." Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth, soft and lingering for a brief moment before pulling back and going back to his coffee. "I gotta head out pretty soon, I'm meeting up with Angie. You gonna be home tonight to study for that tactical exam?"

"Yeah," I managed to reply, mind still reeling from trying to interpret his words and the kiss.

"We'll study together, then?" He glanced back at me and quirked an eyebrow.

I forced myself to nod, hiding the speechlessness in a sip of my coffee, until he'd disappeared into his bedroom. Then I let out a soft, trembling sigh, fingers touching the corner of my mouth where he'd kissed me, and wished that I had the balls to just tell him how I felt.

~~~~

Things went mainly back to normal over the next couple of weeks. We didn't talk about what had happened, and it kind of relieved me. If Ben seemed a little more subdued, a little more thoughtful, I didn't ask. It was easier to believe that he'd talk to me if he wanted to, whenever he was ready.

The last thing I expected was to come home and find him sitting in the living room with a girl.

"Hey," Ben greeted me, and maybe it was my imagination, but he seemed more than a little uncomfortable. "You remember Deborah, right? We met out at Quinceys the other night?"

"Yeah," I replied, even though I didn't. But she looked vaguely familiar, one more cute little brunette in the sea of faces that was New York. "How's it going?"

"Great," she replied enthusiastically, and I nodded before she could say anything else and ducked into my room. I dropped off my books and stared towards the door to my room for a moment, heart pounding. Regardless of everything I'd told myself about this thing with Ben not meaning anything, seeing him with her made my stomach churn in agony. The thought of staying here, with them outside together, was something I couldn't bear. Making a decision on impulse, I changed into a tighter pair of jeans and a fitted black tshirt, throwing my jacket back on. "Have a good night," I managed to say on my way back to the front door.

"You going out?" Ben asked, as if it wasn't obvious, and I glanced back over my shoulder to see him looking strangely anxious.

"Yeah, I got a date," I said, even though I didn't. "Have fun," I forced out, and left. In the elevator, I leaned up against the wall and let out a shuddering sigh, hating myself. Ben wasn't gay, and he certainly wasn't my boyfriend, and hadn't I gotten used to the idea of him with girls by now? Whatever it was that happened - occasionally, I reminded myself firmly - in the bedroom between us involved a lot of alcohol and needed to be completely set aside in every day life.

But god, it didn't keep this from hurting like a bitch.

I went home with someone that night - some Steve or Jeff or Ricky, older and boring and completely not my regular type beyond the empty apartment and the ability to fuck me into the mattress. I left before the sun came up without giving my number - nor, I reflected, my name - and spent a few hung over hours in a diner punishing myself with black coffee before finally heading home.

Ben, surprisingly, was already up when I got home, eating a bowl of cereal with the morning paper, a cigarette burning down to the filter in the ashtray beside him. Maybe Dina was a morning person. He looked up as I came in, his mouth shifting against itself in what I'd learned was a gesture of being very uncomfortable with something. "You didn't come home last night," he said finally, as if it wasn't already obvious to both of us.

"No," I replied, hanging up my jacket. "How was the girl?"

He stood, moving towards me a little hesitantly. "Larry...."

"Look." I cut him of, turning. "I don't want to talk about it."

"She didn't stay," he replied quietly, the look in his eyes unreadable.

I shrugged it off. "I hope not because of me? It's your apartment, Ben, I don't care what you do."

"You know that's not...."

"I really don't want to talk about it," I cut him off again, hoping I didn't sound as pleading as I felt.

"... fine," he said after a long moment, and went back to his cereal. I retreated to my room without another word and locked the door behind me, falling into bed and going back to sleep.

Things were awkward between us for about a week before slowly easing back to normalcy. He started seeing that Diana girl, but never brought her home again. They broke up within a few weeks anyway.

He got drunk and crawled back into my bed. I let him. I hated myself for it, but fuck if I didn't still want him. I could never say no to Ben.

We both saw other people after that, but never brought them home to the apartment, a strange kind of unspoken rule that we both would have denied vehemently if asked, I was sure. But on occasion, when he was between girlfriends, or fighting with his girlfriends, or drunk, or even just for no reason at all, I'd wake up to find him crawling into bed with me at night, and we'd have the most incredibly fantastic sex of my life.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think?
I have some more material (re; hot angsty sex) with them that I can post if people are interested.