A Ben Drowned x Reader story
High. Hot. Guilty. She thought it was just a quiet night in Jeffâs hoodieâuntil Ben showed up. Temptation hit hard, lines were crossed, and the thrill of cheating burned hotter than the drugs in her veins. Now all she can feel is him⌠and the guilt.
Warnings: Drugs, explicit sexual content, cheating, non-consensual elements, violence, strong language, psychological intensity.
She hadnât planned on anything tonight.
Jeff was out, and that usually meant quiet. She was supposed to be safe in his room, tucked into his hoodie like a blanket. The white cotton was too big on her, swallowing her body, the cuffs brushing her knuckles every time she reached for her phone. Dried stains clung to the fabricârust-colored, sharp-edged, reminders of a history she tried not to think about. She twisted the hoodie strings around her fingers, inhaling the faint metallic tang that never seemed to wash out.
Her plan was simple: doomscroll until she got tired, maybe nap in Jeffâs bed until he came back. Nothing reckless. Nothing stupid.
He leaned against the doorway like heâd been waiting for her to look up, smug grin curling his lips. The neon glow from the hall lights cast his eyes in shadow, crimson irises burning like coals in the dark.
âBored, princess?â His voice was playful, teasing. Dangerous in the way only Benâs could be.
Her brows furrowed, thumb hovering over her phone screen. âNot really.â
âGood.â He shifted his weight, stepping in like he owned the room. His outfit was half-casual, half-chaotic: khaki pants loose around his hips, a black wife beater clinging to his pale torso, green beanie slouched over messy blond hair. A hemp necklace with a triforce charm swung against his chest. He looked like heâd been yanked straight out of some 2010âs stoner tumblr feed.
That grin sharpened as he pulled something from his pocket.
A baggie. Small. Crinkling between two fingers. White powder catching the light.
Her blood ran cold. âBenâŚâ
âDonât act like you donât know what this is,â he said, dangling it just far enough to taunt her. âDonât tell me Jeffâs got you on some squeaky clean schedule.â
She sat up straighter, hoodie sleeves sliding down her arms. âIâm not doing that.â
The refusal came quick, firm. And yet, her chest felt hollow after she said it, like her body didnât believe her.
Ben chuckled, crouching low until his face hovered close to hers. âRelax. This is nothing. A warm-up.â He wiggled the baggie between his fingers, then lowered his voice, conspiratorial. âBesidesâthis isnât all Iâve got. This is just the appetizer.â
Her mind raced, guilt slamming against curiosity in waves. She shouldâve said no again. Shouldâve told him to get out. Jeff would kill her if he knew sheâd even looked at the baggie.
But the way Ben said it⌠like a dare. Like he already knew sheâd follow.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Instead, she found herself rising from the mattress, the sleeves of Jeffâs hoodie swaying as she crossed the threshold. She trailed behind Ben down the dim corridor, every step heavier than the last. She felt eyes on her almost immediately.
Jane the Killer stood at the far end of the hall, arms folded, face carved into a sneer sharp enough to cut. No words. Just judgment.
Liu glanced up from where he leaned against the railing. His expression was unreadable, but his stare lingered a moment too long before he looked away.
And then Laughing Jackâperched like a vulture on the banisterâburst into laughter, sharp and jagged. âGoing off to play with the glitch boy, huh? Donât forget to save me some!â Her cheeks burned, but she didnât stop walking.
The worst was when they passed the library door, and Slenderman stepped out. Tall, faceless, silent. He turned his featureless head toward her, then to Ben, and paused. A slow shake of his head followed, long fingers adjusting his suit cuff before he drifted down the hall without a word.
Her heart nearly gave out.
Everyone knew. Every single one of them could see what she was doing.
By the time Ben pushed his door open, her hands were slick inside Jeffâs sleeves.
The contrast inside nearly blinded her. His room glowed with LED strips that pulsed lazy waves of pink, bouncing off dual monitors and shelves stacked with consoles. The floor was a minefield of wires and controllers. And above it all, centered on the wall, Majoraâs Mask glared down with unblinking yellow eyes.
Ben dropped into his beanbag with a groan, spreading his legs wide as if the chair were a throne. He dangled the baggie between two fingers again, grinning.
âSit,â he said, nodding toward the mattress shoved in the corner.
She lowered herself onto it like a puppet on strings. Her knees bounced, fingers twisting the hoodie cords tighter and tighter.
The baggie glittered faintly in the LED light, white powder catching like a hook in her gaze.
Her voice cracked as it left her lips:
âIâm not even sure I want to do this,â she mumbled, voice barely audible over the low hum of electronics in the room.
The words slipped out like a confession, shaky and uncertain. Her gaze flicked to the little baggie dangling in front of her, pinched between two pale fingers. White powder glimmered faintly in the pink glow of LED strips that traced the edges of the walls, making the substance look almost⌠inviting.
Her nose wrinkled. Her body shifted nervously on the old mattress beneath her, which squeaked with every twitch of her weight. The thing was ancientâthin fabric stretched over battered springs, each one creaking like it might give out with the wrong move. She dug her manicured nails into the hoodie strings at her chest, twisting them tighter until the cotton cut into her skin.
The boy in front of her chuckled, low and smug, the sound carrying easily through the stillness.
âCâmon,â Ben teased, rocking his weight lazily onto one hip. He held the baggie up like an offering, letting it dangle just far enough from her reach to taunt her. âDonât play shy. Youâve done it before.â
Her head lifted just enough to meet his eyesâblack sclera, glowing crimson pupils that seemed to cut through the haze of LED light. He looked bored, amused, like he had all the time in the world to watch her squirm.
Her lips parted, then closed again. She glanced at the bag, then at him, then back at the bag. The tug-of-war in her chest was written all over her face.
âJust⌠not with you,â she muttered finally, dropping her gaze to the floor.
The corner of Benâs mouth twitched upward. âExactly. So let me make it memorable.â
His words carried that sharp edge of cockiness he wore like armor. He didnât look embarrassed about the state of his room at allâhis bed nothing but a messy pile of a black fuzzy blanket and a single pillow tossed off to the side, crumbs and old stains spotting the sheets. The mattress she sat on wasnât much better, shoved into the corner like an afterthought.
But the rest of the room was⌠meticulous. Neon light bled from every strip of LED, shifting in lazy pink waves that glowed across sleek walls. His desk was crowded with tech: dual monitors glowing with static screensavers, a high-end gaming chair pushed halfway in, shelves cluttered with retro consoles and merch. Game cases stacked like trophies, wires coiling like veins across the floor.
One object in particular drew her attention. Mounted high on the wall, perfectly centered above the desk, was a replica of Majoraâs Mask. Its wide, heart-shaped face and piercing yellow eyes seemed to watch her no matter where she sat. The grin carved into it was both playful and sinister, the kind of expression that made her chest tighten.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, dragging her eyes back down to Ben.
âRightâso you know whyââ She started, pushing her palms against the mattress as if to stand.
But his hand shot out with quick precision, pressing down firmly on her shoulder. She sank back into the squeaky mattress with little resistance, glaring up at him with wide eyes. His palm lingered there for a beat too long, thumb brushing the fabric of her hoodie before he pulled away.
Benâs gaze traveled slowly, deliberately, over her outfit. The oversized white hoodie that nearly swallowed her figure, the black booty shorts peeking from beneath it, striped thigh-high socks stretched tight against her legs. Her hair, styled to perfection, framed a face painted with soft makeupâlashes curled, lips glossy. That bottom lip, especially, always pouting, always tempting.
She looked put together. Breathtaking, even.
But the hoodie⌠that was what made him grin wider. The faint, dried stains smeared across the fabric, rusty red against white, were impossible to ignore. They werenât hers. They whispered stories that belonged to someone else entirely. To him. Jeffrey Woods. Jeff the Killer.
Benâs smirk deepened until it was downright smug. âRelax. He doesnât need to know. Weâre just having a little fun. Sharing, like good friends do.â
She froze at that name left unspoken, eyes darting toward the door as if half-expecting Jeff to burst through it right then. The silence stretched. The hum of his PC fans filled the air, joined by the faint clicking of a clock from somewhere behind her.
Ben turned his back on her without another word, wandering to his desk. He plucked up a sleek green rolling tray littered with remnants of weed, a credit card, and a rolled-up dollar bill that looked like it had been used countless times. He carried it back with the kind of careless grace only he could pull off, dropping into a beanbag chair across from her.
The cheap fabric groaned beneath his weight, swallowing him in its sagging embrace. He spread his legs wide, balancing the tray across them with practiced ease.
âWatch closely,â he said, not even glancing at her as he tipped the baggie. White powder spilled out in a soft heap onto the tray. With steady motions, he scraped the credit card across the surface, dragging the powder into a neat pile, then split it down the middle. His hands moved quick, practiced, carving two sharp lines as if it were muscle memory.
Her breath hitched audibly.
âAll of that?â she blurted, voice cracking into a near-yell. Her cheeks burned red as she clutched the hoodie strings tighter, twisting them around her fingers until her knuckles whitened. âYouâre insane!â
Her gaze locked on the lines, pupils widening despite her protest. Her tongue darted across her lips before she could stop it, a traitorous motion that made heat rush to her cheeks.
Ben caught it instantly. His laugh came low and cocky, head tilting as he plucked the rolled bill from the tray.
âInsane?â he drawled, leaning back with infuriating confidence. His eyes glinted, glowing brighter under the LED lights as he brought the bill to hover above the powder. âNah. Just better at this than you.â
The smirk sharpened. The air thickened. She gulped, straight up nervous.
âBottoms up, princess.â
Her heart pounded so loud she swore he could hear it. Every nerve screamed at her to stop, to shove the tray away, to walk out the door and never look back. She could still do it. She could stand, leave, and go back to Jeffâpretend none of this ever happened.
But her body betrayed her.
Slowly, she slid off the edge of the bed, knees pressing into the carpet. The fibers itched against her skin, grounding her as much as they mocked her. Crawling forward on hands and knees, she felt the weight of Benâs eyes tracking her every move.
When she stopped in front of him, she settled back onto her legs, folding them neatly beneath her. She looked up at him, nervous, cheeks burning under his stare. The tray balanced perfectly on his lap between them, but instead of asking for it, she leaned in closer.
Her manicured fingers stretched out, plucking the rolled dollar from his grip.
âThatâs it,â he murmured, his voice softer now, but dripping with satisfaction. His other hand came down to pet her head, curling a strand of her hair around his finger like it belonged to him.
Her breath caught. She tucked another strand behind her ear, trying to ignore the way her chest tightened.
She pinched her left nostril shut, lowered the bill with trembling hands, and inhaled sharply.
The white powder burned like fire.
She yanked back instantly, eyes watering, coughing as the sting shot up her nose and down her throat. She shook her head rapidly, desperate to shake the sensation away.
Her throat still burned. The chemical tang clung to the back of her nose, dripping bitterly down into her throat. It made her gag once, twice, before she pressed her palm flat against her chest and forced herself to breathe through it.
Ben didnât help. He was too busy laughing, a hand pressed to his stomach as he leaned back deeper into the beanbag chair. The neon light caught on the sharp curve of his grin, making his expression look almost unholy.
âYou look like you just snorted battery acid,â he teased. âDonât tell me youâre tapping out already.â
She glared at him through teary eyes, sniffling hard. âIt burns. You didnât tell me it would feel like that when doing a long ass line you dick.â
âPrincess, you think itâs supposed to feel good?â His laugh cracked out again, bright and mean. âThatâs the pointâyou ride it out, then you float. Youâll see. Plus, youâre not done. Not yet.â
Her body sagged. She pressed her palms into the mattress behind her, leaning back until her shoulder blades touched the wall. The LED glow hummed against her skin, staining her pale cheeks with pink. Already, her pulse felt uneven, the rhythm skipping in ways that made her dizzy.
And then, slowly, the dizziness changed.
It melted into warmth that seeped down her arms, filling her fingertips. Her legs tingled, the tight hug of her striped socks suddenly unbearable, too soft, too much. Her body felt both heavy and weightless at once, like she was being pushed into the mattress and pulled toward the ceiling in the same breath.
A giggle slipped out before she could stop it, light and breathy, the kind that betrayed how far gone she already was.
Benâs eyes sharpened instantly. His own laughter cut off mid-chuckle, replaced by something quieter, hungrier. He leaned forward, forearms pressing into his knees, chin tilting as he studied her. That grin was still there, but different nowâless teasing, more certain.
âYou feel it,â he said, not a question, not even close. His voice was low, velvet-dark, and smug. âI told you.â
She hummed, too dazed to argue, letting her head fall back against the wall. The cheap plaster was cool against her heated skin. Her lashes fluttered as she stared up at the ceiling, mouth parted, a soft smile tugging lazily at her lips. âMhm. It feels like⌠like Iâm floating.â Her fingers trailed absently across her arm, pressing as if to test whether it was still there. âLike my skin isnât even mine.â
The words struck her harder than the drugs, her heart thudding violently in her chest. She didnât know if it was the coke, the pill buzzing under her tongue, or just himâhis voice curling low and pleased like he owned her already. Maybe it was all three.
But then she remembered what he had said before. That they werenât done yet.
Her gaze drifted as he reached for the baggie again, the tiny plastic crackling softly between his fingers. Inside, a few pills rattled, catching the glow of the LEDs. She swallowed, throat suddenly dry, pulse loud in her ears.
He plucked one out and placed it in her palm. For a moment she just sat there, staring down at it cupped in both hands like it was something sacred. Her nerves twisted with want and fear all at once.
Thenâbefore she could talk herself out of itâshe popped it onto her tongue.
The pill fizzed and melted bitterly, her face scrunching in distaste even as she hummed at the strange sensation, tilting her head back so it could slide down her throat.
âWhat⌠what is this, anyways?â she asked, voice small, words sticking to the fuzz of the pill. Her pupils were blown wide, her lips parted in a dreamy smile. It wasnât just curiosityâit was infatuation. The room tilted and swirled around her, and she loved it.
Ben leaned back against the beanbag, smirk deepening. âDonât worry about it.â His eyes glowed like the neon lights reflected inside them. âJust know itâll feel good.â
And thenâwithout hesitationâhe moved again. Tapping the tray with the edge of his card, he reshaped the messy scatter of powder into a neat little line. He bent down, pressed the rolled-up bill to his nose, and inhaled sharply.
The burn hit immediately. His body jerked once, a brief flinch, then smoothed back into that infuriating calm. He exhaled, relaxed, as if it were routine. As if nothing could touch him.
Finally, like it was nothing, he plucked up a tiny orange pill between two fingers, rolled it casually, and tossed it into his mouth. He swallowed it dry, his smirk never wavering.
The baggie crinkled as he set it aside, and she sat there watching him with glazed eyes, hands absentmindedly twisting the hoodie strings again. The dried stains smeared across the fabric caught in the glow of the LEDs, rusty red against stark white. She didnât even notice she was tugging harder, wrapping them so tight they dug into her palms.
âYou aight?â His voice cut through her haze, pulling her gaze back down to him.
She blinked, forcing her attention onto his face. He was lounging back now, legs spread wide, tray tipped lazily against his thigh. The look on his face was casual, but his eyesâglowing, narrow, hungryâwatched her like a predator sizing prey.
She nodded quickly, too quickly, and let out a laugh that bubbled up out of nowhere. âIâm fine! Totally fine. Jus-â She pressed both hands to her head, grinning. âWow.â
âJesus,â he muttered, shaking his head with a laugh. âYou actually do this shit with Jeffy? Or was that just Creeps making shit up again?â
Her smile faltered at the mention of her boyfriend. For a second, the haze thinned, just enough to let in guilt.
âI meanâŚâ She tilted her head, tapping her cheek twice like she always did when thinking too hard. âSometimes. Not all the time. Iâm scared of how my bodyâll react, you know? So⌠weed, molly, yeah. Coke? Rarely. Hurts too much. Jeff gets pissed when it doesâhe hates when it hurts his nose. You know⌠lack of nose and all.â
She giggled again at her own joke, and Ben barked out a laugh, his head tipping back.
âOh, fuck, thatâs good,â he wheezed. âLack of nose.â He wiped at his eye, still grinning. âGod, you kill me. You know how fucked up it is, saying that about your own boyfriend? What do you see in the fucker anyway?â
She swatted at his arm, lips pouting. âDonât be mean. Heâs a sweetie! You just donât see it. And heâs good in bed.â
Benâs grin sharpened instantly at this.
âWell, would you date someone whoâs better at sex than him, then?â The question hung heavy in the air, dripping with suggestion.
Her laugh caught in her throat. Her body, high and hypersensitive, went still. Her heart thudded against her ribs, loud in her ears, echoing like a warning.
He leaned back further, stretching his arms behind his head, every inch of his posture smug. The tray slid off his lap and clattered loudly to the floor, scattering powder across the carpet.
She gasped dramatically, pressing both hands to her head, making a Miles Morales meme reference. From Spiderman, duh. âThe drugs!!â she cried, making her voice wobble on purpose.
The fake despair cracked instantly into giggles. She curled over, laughing so hard her stomach hurt.
Ben was laughing too, doubled over in the beanbag, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He had that kind of laughâthe kind that started quiet, then broke into wild bursts, uncontrollable. The kind that filled the whole room until she couldnât tell which was louder: his laughter or hers.
They laughed until their cheeks ached, until she had to wipe at her eyes
And then, when the sound finally died down, his voice came low, smooth, cutting through the silence like a knife.âYou know,â he said, watching her intently, âyou avoided my question.â
She swallowed hard, gaze drifting down to the Majoraâs Mask mounted on his wall. Its wide eyes stared back at her, and for a moment she thought it might blink.
âI⌠wouldnât know,â she admitted softly, curling onto her side on the carpet to face him. âHeâs my first. Iâd like for him to be my last, you know?â
Ben rolled his glowing eyes, a groan escaping his throat. âThatâs so corny. First and last? What, youâre living in a romance novel? Nah.â He leaned forward again, elbows braced against his knees, grin widening. âThereâs always room for a middle. Heâs your first, sure. But someone else could be your second. Then he can be your last again, if youâre that desperate for a fairytale ending.â
Her brows furrowed as she blinked at him, chewing her lip. âI donât think it works like that.â
âI think it does,â he shot back instantly.
The silence pressed in again, thick and humming. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest. The high made everything sharperâher skin too tight, her hoodie strings too rough, the carpet under her thighs too scratchy.
She sat up slowly, eyes locked on his. âBen⌠Iâve been wanting to ask you something.â
His brows lifted, intrigued. He shifted, leaning his cheek against his palm, elbow propped lazily against the beanbag. His legs spread wider, green beanie slipping slightly as his head tilted.
She twisted the hoodie strings again, chewing the inside of her cheek. âWhat are you? Like⌠an entity? A ghost? A demon?â
His grin faltered, just for a second. His gaze flicked away, then back.âThatâs a hard question to answer,â he admitted. His voice was softer this time, honest. âEven for me.â
She nodded, accepting it without pressing further. The subject dropped between them like a stone.
But Benâs eyes flicked back down to her hands, still fidgeting with the strings, and he chuckled again.
Her head tilted, confused. âAnotherâŚ?â
He grinned, teeth flashing. âAnother pill. Last oneâs all yours, princess.â
Her eyes widened, lighting up instantly. She nodded eagerly, crawling forward on hands and knees again until she was kneeling before him. She opened her mouth slightly, waiting.
Ben pinched the pill delicately, smirking as he pressed it to her tongue. And then he didnât move his fingers away.
Her lashes fluttered as she hummed softly, eyes closing, letting the chemical tang dissolve against her taste buds. She didnât notice the way his fingers lingered, the way his grin sharpened. Not until he shoved them deeper.
But thenâhis fingers pressed further, cold against her tongue, pushing deeper than they had any reason to.
The pill slid down her throat in a clumsy swallow, unplanned, scraping against her gag reflex. She coughed around his fingers, a wet gag tearing out of her chest as her eyes watered instantly.
Ben only grinned. âOops?â
She glared at him through blurry lashes, lips stretched around his knuckles. The burn in her throat left her weak, teary-eyed, but she didnât pull away.
And thatâGod, that sent something sharp ripping through his chest. The sight of her kneeling, mascara already smudging beneath damp eyes, mouth stuffed with his handâit set his nerves on fire.
He curled his fingers slightly, pressing against her tongue, just to feel the slick glide of her saliva coating his skin.
She whimpered faintly, more confused than defiant, and the sound almost undid him.
âFuck,â he muttered under his breath, grinning wider. âYou look unreal right now.â
Ben leaned back against the beanbag, one arm slung lazily over the side as if he owned the whole room, the whole situation. He had pulled away his hand from her mouth. His crimson eyes stayed locked on her, sharper now, less playful.
âYou know,â he murmured, tilting his head, âIâve had my eye on you since the day you showed up here.â
Her fingers froze around the hoodie strings. She blinked, lips parting like she might deny it, but the words never formed. The glow of his pupils pinned her down as surely as his hand ever could.
âDonât act surprised,â he went on, softer now, but cutting. âYou think I didnât notice? The way you walk around in Jeffâs shirts like theyâre yours. The way you sneak out of his room at night, smelling like him. All shy, like nobody would catch you.â A grin spread slow across his face. âI caught you. More than once.â
Her stomach flipped. Heat crept up her chest, blooming across her cheeks before she could stop it. She wanted to look awayâbut she couldnât. His words had cracked something open, and suddenly she was back there, whether she liked it or not.
It had been three in the morning. The mansion held its breath, dark and heavy except for the hum of the fridge. She padded into the kitchen barefoot, Jeffâs oversized band tee hanging off her shoulders like a dress, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs. No pants, no shorts. Just white cotton panties.
Her skin still tingled from the marks Jeff had left her. The sting on her thighs was sharp, rawâknife play. Fresh cuts, thin and neat, still bleeding in faint rivulets. She shouldâve covered them. Shouldâve cleaned herself up. But thirst had driven her here, her throat rough from hours of moaning.
She opened the fridge and let the cold air rush over her overheated skin. Grabbing a beer, she uses her teeth to pop the cap off and took a long pull. The icy burn slid down her throat, grounding her for a moment in the mundane.
A soft creak from the floor made her freeze.
Ben stepped into the kitchen, Monster in hand, leaning against the counter with one hip. His green beanie was slouched low, hair falling in messy strands across his forehead. Khaki pants hung loose on his hips, the waistband of his boxers peeking slightly as he shifted.
âThought you could sneak a drink without me noticing?â His voice was low, teasing, almost dangerous.
She stiffened, gripping her beer tighter. âIâI was just⌠thirsty.â
He smiled, slow and knowing. âYeah? Thirsty enough for me to notice?â
Her pulse hitched, heat curling in her chest. His eyes lingered on the curve of her bare thighs, then drifted up to the loose tee hanging off her shoulders. He leaned closer, tilting his head, that smirk tugging at his lips like he already knew how flustered she was.
Her breath hitched. I shouldnât⌠I canât⌠The thought of Jeff, waiting somewhere in the mansion, made her stomach tighten with guiltâbut the warmth of Benâs proximity, the dangerous pull of his presence, made her body betray her.
Before she could resist, he brushed a hand lightly along her waist. She shivered at the contact, breath catching. Her grip on the beer loosened, free hand moving to rest tentatively on his chest. The pressure was grounding and terrifying all at once.
Then his lips were on hers, soft at first, testing. Her eyes fluttered closed. The taste of himâclean, faintly bitter, electricâmade her knees weak. She rested her hands on his shoulders, tilting her head, letting him deepen the kiss.
The countertop pressed cold against her back, but the heat between them was overpowering. She leaned into him, chest pressing against his, heart hammering. He traced a finger down her side, pulling her closer, and she instinctively lifted onto the edge of the counter, straddling it. The movement was instinctive, urgent, a thrill she couldnât deny.
Her mind screamed at her, Jeff would kill me if he saw this. But her body betrayed her, reveling in the warmth, the soft brush of his lips and teeth against hers, the teasing pressure of his hands against her hips.
âYouâre impossible,â she murmured against him, breath hitching, even as a pang of guilt stabbed her chest.
âBabe! Come back here!â
Her eyes snapped open. Panic flared like fire. Jeff. Of course it was Jeff. Her stomach lurched, a cocktail of guilt, fear, and frustration boiling inside her. She hops off the counter, hips shifting awkwardly, shirt slipping slightly, hair mussed, heart racing.
As soon as she had hopped off the counter, she had dropped the beer bottle which dripped onto the floor and some had splashed onto Benâs socks. He lifts up his feet, basically floating in the air as he scrunches his nose in distaste.
Her legs carried her down the hall before she even thought, leaving Ben behind in the kitchen to deal with the spilled beer. He didnât move, just leaned against the counter with his feet in the air, smirk wide, lips faintly stained with her lipstick.
âWorth it,â he murmured, watching her run, his eyes gleaming with amusement and satisfaction down at the bulge in his sweats.
Meanwhile, she pressed herself against the wall outside Jeffâs room, panting lightly, mind spinning. Guilt and exhilaration twisted together like barbed wire. What am I doing? Jeffâs waiting⌠Yet a small, shameful part of her couldnât deny the pull, the thrill, the taste of Ben lingering on her lips, burning like fire she couldnât put out.
What am I doing? she scolded herself again, sliding the door open quietly.
Jeff was sitting on the edge of his bed, dark eyes already on her, sharp and alert even in the dim glow of his room. âWhat were you doing out there?â he asked, voice low but edged with curiosity.
She froze, biting her lip, suddenly aware of every fluttering heartbeat. âI⌠uh⌠just grabbing a beer,â she murmured, trying to keep her voice casual. Her gaze dropped to the floor.
âSo⌠where is it?â he pressed, eyebrow raised, leaning back slightly, eyes softening but still watchful.
She laughed nervously, a little high-pitched, brushing a hand over the hem of his oversized tee. âFinished it,â she said quickly, hoping the tiny fib would slide past him.
Jeffâs eyes flicked to her for a long moment, as if weighing her words. Then, without another comment, he patted the space beside him on the bed. She hesitated, then climbed onto it, her legs curling beneath her.
She buried her face into his chest, the familiar scent of him grounding her in ways nothing else could. His arm wrapped around her, drawing her closer. The warmth of his body, the steady thrum of his heartbeat under her ear, made the remnants of the kitchen fade like smoke.
âYou okay?â he asked quietly, thumb brushing over her back.
She nodded, eyes closed, letting herself sink into the comfort he offered. âYeah⌠yeah, Iâm fine,â she whispered, though her body still buzzed faintly from the adrenaline.
Jeff tightened his hold just slightly, a silent reassurance, and she let out a long breath she hadnât realized sheâd been holding. For now, the world outside this room could wait. The guilt and the excitement, the tug-of-war inside her, softened under the warmth of his chest and the steady weight of his arms.
She nuzzled closer, murmuring softly, âIâm glad youâre here.â
Jeffâs lips pressed gently to the top of her head. âAlways,â he replied, voice low, protective, grounding. And for the first time since the kitchen, she allowed herself to just breathe, just be, wrapped safely in him.
The memory clung too close, too vivid, and when it snapped back to the present, she realized her cheeks were burning hot. Her thighs pressed together, defensive, betraying her.
Ben noticed. Of course he did. His grin widened as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching her squirm in Jeffâs hoodie. âYou remember,â he said, almost tender in his cruelty. âDonât you?â
Her throat tightened. She twisted the strings of the hoodie harder, wishing she could strangle the heat in her chest, wishing she could erase that night. But she couldnât. And the worst part wasâshe wasnât sure she wanted to.
There was another memory that clung to her. One that made her realize she has been on denial about her feelings towards the elf. âThatâs not the only thing I remember.â
Ben hums, tilting his head in curiosity at that. âWhat are you talking about?â He smirks, acting oblivious to what she was talking about. âLast nightââ She starts, to which his smirk widens.
The movie roared on the screenâchains rattling, screams muffled, wet tearing sounds that made Jeff chuckle like it was a comedy. His arm was draped heavy around her shoulders, his thumb absently stroking the seam of her hoodie. Normally, the casual intimacy wouldâve grounded her. Tonight, it didnât.
Her eyes werenât on the gore. Not really.
They were fixed on the recliner across the room.
Ben was sprawled there like he owned the place, beanie tilted low, khaki pants rumpled, that stupid lazy smirk tugging at his mouth. And Ninaâgod, Ninaâsat perched on the arm of his chair like a cat. Every time she laughed, her pink-streaked hair brushed against his shoulder. Every time she leaned in, her hand drifted closer to his knee.
The sound of her giggles sliced sharper than the saw grinding across the screen.
She told herself it wasnât jealousy. It couldnât be. She was Jeffâs girl. Jeffâs hoodie clung to her shoulders, smelling of cigarettes and steel. His fingers curled into her skin with casual ownership. She didnât want Ben.She didnât.
Then why was her stomach in knots?
Her manicured nails worried the fraying threads of her shorts, tugging until she thought sheâd unravel the whole hem. She hated the heat crawling up her neck, the quick thud in her chest every time Nina leaned closer.
And worse, she hated how Ben noticed.
Of course he noticed. His crimson gaze slid over Ninaâs giggling figure, past her reaching hand, straight to where she sat pressed into Jeffâs side. He caught the tension in her jaw, the twitch of her grip on Jeffâs sleeve. Then he smirkedâslow, deliberate, like heâd just won something.
The sight made her throat tighten. She shouldâve looked away. Instead, her eyes lingered, caught between wanting to glare and⌠something she couldnât name.
âWhat the fuck are you staring at?â
Jeffâs voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and suspicious. His dark eyes flicked down at her before following her gaze across the room.
Her stomach dropped. She blinked fast, scrambling for words, heat rushing to her face. âI, uh, arenât they getting close?â She forced a weak laugh, tilting her head toward Ben and Nina. âLike⌠donât you think theyâd be a cute couple?â
Jeffâs brows furrowed. Then he snorted, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the TV. âCute? Ninaâs fucking insufferable. Benâs too much of a smug little shit to date anyone.â His arm tightened around her shoulders as if the matter were closed. âYouâre seeing things.â
She nodded quickly, pretending to focus on the movie, but her chest still burned.
On Jeffâs other side, Liu shifted in his seat. He hadnât said a word all night, quietly nursing his beer and letting Jeff do the talking. But now, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Heâd seen itâthe way her gaze lingered, the tremor in her excuse.
When she caught his look, he rolled his eyes and muttered into his drink, almost too low to hear. âItâs not about them, and you know it.â
Her face flamed hotter, guilt and irritation prickling under her skin. She ducked her head, pretending not to hear him, though the words echoed louder than the movieâs screams.
Across the room, Ben hadnât stopped watching. His smirk deepened as Nina whispered something in his ear, her laughter spilling free again. He let her lean closer, let her talkâbut his eyes never left her.
âIâm surprised you mentioned it. I thought we were going to ignore that jealousy moment you had last night.â He starts, grabbing his phone from his pocket. He unlocks it with ease, looking over at a location notification. He had everyoneâs location from the mansion. This included Jeff of course. He was checking to see where he was at. It seemed like he was still far away from the mansion.
âIt wasnât jealousy. It was curiosity.â She demands, rolling her eyes. Her pupils were so big her eyes almost looked fully black.
âWhatever you say princess.â He places his phone back in her pocket and grabs the baggie. He shakes it, revealing the last pill. âWanna share it?â
She looks at the pill and shakes her head. She didnât think she could take one more.
âDamn, you want it all for yourself? Then open up princess.â
He leans over, placing the pill between two fingers. With hesitation, she opens her mouth and lets him place the pill flat in her tongue.
For a heartbeat, she thought about pulling back. She thought about Jeff. His hoodie still clung to her shoulders, the dried stains scratching against her palms where she twisted the strings. Her boyfriendâs hoodie. His smell still faint in the fabric.
But Benâs fingers were in her mouth, cold and commanding, and it was so easy to just let herself sink into the feeling. Her lips sealed tighter around him.
She sucked. Tentative at first, testing. Then slower, her tongue swirling experimentally along the pads of his fingers.
Ben froze. Then let out a sharp breath through his teeth, head tipping back as his grin cracked into a low laugh. âOhhh, princess. You really are a needy little thing.â
Heat curled low in her belly at the words. Shame followed quick behind it. She wasnât supposed to enjoy this. She wasnât supposed to want more.
She closed her eyes, pretending for just a moment that it wasnât him. Pretending that she wasnât kneeling for someone who wasnât her boyfriend.
But the high made pretending impossible. It magnified every detailâthe salty taste of his skin, the icy bite of his touch, the way his fingers flexed slightly as if testing her mouth.
He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, watching her with dark hunger as his other hand reached lazily down to adjust himself. The tent in his jeans was obvious now, straining shamelessly.
âYou think Jeff ever makes you feel this way?â His voice was low, mocking. âBet he doesnât. Bet heâs too busy trying not to scare you with that face of his.â
Her lashes fluttered open, hazy eyes flicking downâstraight to where his hand pressed over the bulge in his pants. He caught the glance instantly.
âOh?â His grin sharpened. âWas that a turn-on, princess?â
Her lips slipped off his fingers with a wet pop, and she gagged faintly as they scraped her throat on the way out. Saliva smeared across her chin, dripping to her neck.
She wiped it with the back of her hand, but her eyes betrayed her. They darted back down again, just for a second, before meeting his smug, narrowed gaze.
Ben tilted his head, green beanie sliding with the motion. âFuck, Iâm going to have so much fun with you, nasty slut.â
The words hit like a strike. Her body joltedâhalf in protest, half in something darker. She hated how much her thighs clenched, how her core throbbed traitorously at the filth of his voice. He didnât give her time to fight it.
After what felt like hours, she found herself on top of Ben againâthis time on the filthy mattress shoved against the wall. Her skin was slick with sweat, hair clinging to her face as she moved on him, riding his cock with a desperate rhythm that had her thighs trembling. Her back was to the door, head thrown back, every moan echoing off the LED-glazed walls.
Ben had both hands locked on her hips, fingers digging in as he guided her up and down, forcing her to take him deeper with every drop of her body. His teeth clenched each time she sank down fully, the wet heat of her pussy clamping around him like a vice. She was so tight it almost hurt, yet slick enough to keep him groaning through gritted teeth. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was the fact that she was too far gone to even think about controlâbut either way, it had him hooked.
Her manicured nails scraped against his shoulders as she leaned forward for balance, nails dragging faint red lines across his pale skin. âF-fuck!â she cried, voice breaking as her body arched. Her chest pushed out, her head fell back, and her mouth parted on a shaky scream. Her whole body pulsed with euphoria, teetering on the edge yet again.
Sheâd already fallen apart three times, shuddering and shaking against him, while he had only given in once. The drugs kept her body responsive, every nerve firing, every touch amplified until she was nothing but sensation. And she wanted more.
Their clothes were long forgotten, discarded near the beanbag chair where this had all started. Now there was nothing but skin against skin, sweat against sweat, and the raw sound of their bodies colliding.
Ben noticed the way her walls fluttered around him, how her thighs quivered as she began to clamp down. She was about to cum again. He couldnât let that slideânot when he still had something to prove.
His grin flashed sharp beneath his labored breaths. Without warning, he snatched a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back before shoving her forward, hard, down into the mattress. She let out a startled cry as her cheek pressed into the thin sheets, her ass lifted instinctively higher into the air.
Now he had her exactly where he wanted.
One hand stayed tangled in her hair, tugging at the roots with every thrust, while his other hand gripped her waist like a vice. She tried muffling her moans against the mattress, teeth sinking into the fabric as her hand reached beneath herself, circling her clit desperately to push herself over the edge.
The sharp crack of his palm against her ass rang out. âBe loud, princess,â he hissed into her ear, each word broken by a heavy thrust. âDonât make me ask twice.â
Her body betrayed her againâher voice spilled out in helpless moans, broken cries that filled the room, muffled only when her breath hitched on drool leaking past her lips. Her vision blurred, lights streaking across her eyes. The sound of his body slamming into hersâskin against skin, balls smacking against herâfaded into a haze of static.
Was she passing out? Overdosing? She couldnât tell. But she did notice the shift in the air.
Her blurry gaze focused on the doorway, and her blood ran cold.
A shadow loomed, blocking out the glow of the LEDs.
Jeff Woods stood there, shirtless, knife in hand, eyes wide with something between rage and betrayal. His chest rose and fell heavy, muscles tight as the weapon twitched at his side.
That was enough to shock a sliver of clarity back into her. Her body jolted as if electrocutedâsuddenly every thrust, every stretch of Ben inside her, was raw, unavoidable sensation. The fear in her veins tangled with the high until she felt both sick and alive at once.
Of fucking course he didnât.
If anything, he slowed just for a momentâlong enough to look at Jeff, grin curling wider across his faceâbefore slamming harder into her, dragging a scream out of her throat. Her hands shook violently as she clawed at the mattress, eyes wide, torn between terror and shame and⌠something darker.
Her moans only grew louder, spilling out despite the way her chest tightened with panic. Benâs thrusts grew ruthless, fast and deep, until he finally gritted his teeth and locked both hands around her hips. He slammed her flush against him, holding her there as his cock twitched and pulsed inside her.
She felt the sudden flood of heat as he cameâthick, hot, pouring deep into her until her eyes rolled back. Her tongue lolled against the mattress as her body convulsed around him, the high and the rush of his release pushing her over the edge once more.
Benâs laugh cut through her ragged moans, sharp and cruel. He looked straight at the figure in the doorway, smirk widening as he dragged his nails down her trembling side.
âNice of you to join us, Jeffrey.â
