#actor ben

You sighed, gripping onto your backpack nervously and stepping into the cast member locker rooms.

You looked around, smiling as you spotted your cousin Alex (I’m using my cousin's name deal with it!), who was getting into her work shoes.

“Axe!” she looked up, her long dark hair getting in her face, breaking out into a smile as she saw you

“(y/n)!!” she yelled, standing and bolting over to you, crushing you with a hug “you’re here!!” you laughed, rubbing your head into hers, grinning as you pulled away.

“so first day after training! How excited are you!?” you bounced in place, hardly able to stay still.

“Super, I’ve always dreamed of working here, and now I also get to work at star wars land!” Alex giggled.

“Well, say hi to Ben for me when you get there” you snorted, rolling your eyes.

“Ben Solo?”

Alex grinned like a cat “nope, Ben Williams, he’s the Kylo actor, straight up looks and sounds exactly like Adam driver, there’s even a betting pool saying that he’s his long lost twin”

You snickered “how old is he?”

“24” Alex said, turning to walk back over to her locker and placing her backpack in.

“Then he couldn’t possibly be his twin, Adam driver is older” you reasoned, Alex nodding along with you.

“That’s why I say he’s his younger brother who was given up for adoption” you groaned, pushing her shoulder.

“Whatever, I need to get ready to clock in”

“Alright see ya!”

You turned, glancing down at your phone you had 10 minutes before you needed to clock in.

You looked up, slamming into a black brick wall.

“oof!” you fell back, almost falling to the floor before a strong arm wrapped around you waist and caught you. “shit thanks ma-“

You looked up, Kylo Rens mask looking back at you, it was tilted slightly, the actor lifted you back up, setting you on your feet.

“you okay?” a quiet deep voice came from within the mask.

“uh-uh ye-yeah, I’m good thank you, sorry about that” you stuttered, brushing a stray hair back.

“shit I gotta go clock in, thanks again!” you pushed past him, hurrying to your locker.

The Kylo actor turned slowly, tilting his head as he watched you run away.

“cute” he mumbled, shifting his helmet and following the first order officer actor to get ready to walk around his land.

--end of part 1 (its short sorry!)--

“Oh I thought it was you! You are the only one to not arrive! How are you my love?” Wanda said and came and cupped his face in her hands and kissed him.  “Was the flight good, did you have much trouble finding the flats?”

“No it was remarkably easy, and the flight was long. I am only glad I didn’t have to come from London like you all.” He grinned. “How on earth did Emily find this place?”

“This is where Dominic proposed to her. Remember when they came on vacation? This is the flats they stayed at. She fell so in love with it, she decided to marry here and since so many of the family have made the journey, we have let every place in the entire complex. You have the last single.” She smiled and went to pick up a bag.

“I have it mum.” He smiled. “Come on let’s get settled, I am deeply in need of a nap.”

She smiled at him. “I just really hope that someday soon, I get to be the mother of the groom, not the grandmother of the bride.”

Ben cut his eyes toward her. “Really mum? I’ve been here, what 4 minutes?” He laughed a little.  “I don’t think that is going to happen any time soon. No prospects.”

“What about that nice girl you were seeing, what was her name, Natalie?” Wanda asked leading him down the path between the buildings, that from what Ben could tell had not been updated since the 1970’s.

“She didn’t want the same things I wanted, so, we just sort of drifted apart. Mum, I promise you, I am actively seeking.” He smiled.  “I will find someone and I will make you a grandmother again.”

“I would appreciate it. I am not looking forward to the prospect of being a great gran before you making me a gran.” She shook her head. She led him out onto the grassy area that opened up to the bay.

Ben stopped and looked across at the view. “Wow.” The complex that their family and friends were occupying for the next ten days sat at the far end of Waialua Bay on the island of Kauai. The ocean turned and fought against the rocks at their end of the bay, the palm trees swayed in the breezes of the trade winds. “Now I see why Emily picked this place. It’s beautiful.”

“It is. And we have the run of the place. The real estate agent that has been handling all of the rentals reminded us that the waters in the bay can be a little rough, but if you’re careful, there is excellent swimming and surfing.” She smiled. “Oh look, there is your father and Tracy.”  She waved her hand and Ben turned to look up the small rise towards the building. He smiled and saw his father and sister coming across the grass barefoot. He had never in all of his years seen them so free.

“Ben! Oh I am so glad you’re here!” Tracy said and wrapped her arms around him.  “You look so good, my god, the pictures just don’t do it justice. I hate only being able to talk to you and not see you more often. My favorite little brother!”

“I am your only little brother Tracy!” He laughed and held her tight.

“That’s why you’re my favorite.” She laughed and kissed him. “Mummy, go up and tell Emily Ben’s made it, the last of the Cumberbatch’s have arrived in Kauai and we are settling him in. “

“Tracy, she will be fine to not know that I am here…” Ben said.

“Oh goodness, clearly you don’t know your niece, she has been beside herself worried about you.” Tracy laughed. “This is what I get for having a daughter and a baby brother who are only two years apart in age, and happen to be very best friends.”

“This what I get for waiting so long between children.” Wanda chimed in.

“You only had to wait because you were simply waiting for me to come around darling.” Timothy said and gathered her up in his arms and kissed her. “It took a little time for our paths to cross and then I had to pluck up the courage to ask you out and then he took forever to get here…”

“Oh god, I really don’t need to know any of this.” Ben said and laughed. “Please, go do whatever weird sort of old person romance thing you are going to do somewhere not adjacent to my being. I really, really need a nap. I am exhausted and if you would like me to at least be cordial to the rest of the family and to Dominic’s family tonight, I need something like two hours. Go, please, someone with some sort of authority show me where I will be laying my head.”

“I have him. Go mummy, Pop.” Tracy smiled.

Timothy smiled and wrapped his arm around his wife and took her away. Ben smiled at the sight of them, this many years on and they still loved each other very much. “Ugh, I am going to have to find a third husband to be that happy.” Tracy said and shook her head.  “Come on.”

“Are you looking for a third husband?” Ben asked laughing as he once again set off on his way to the condo that had been rented for him.

“Darling baby brother, I am always looking for the next future ex-husband.” She smiled. “And who knows maybe one of these handsome young island men will think, my god, what a beautiful older wealthy woman, what is trading in living on a tropical island for living on a cold and rainy one? They can simply follow me back to the U.K.” She grinned at him. “I can just pray can’t I?”

Ben laughed. “Yes, please keep praying.”

They reached the steps and headed up and to the second floor. She kicked off her sandals and smiled. “No shoes in the house, come on, off with them. Mum had the hardest time with this last night when we got here, now she is walking around like she’s always done it.” Tracy shook her head and opened the door. “It’s not very big, just one bedroom, but the view is fantastic from that bedroom, and then if anyone of our drunken relations wants to come over and try and sleep here you can kick them out. Mum, Pop and myself are directly across, Emily and Dominic are above us, and everyone else is sort of spread out around us.  The pool is on the other side of our building if you want to swim there and not in the ocean, though I think Dominic said something about grabbing you and Jeremy - and going surfing down the beach a little, which let me tell you is like walking on bird seed.”

Ben smiled and just let his sister ramble on as he followed her in to well-appointed flat. It was exactly what he needed, nothing too lush, but clearly the insides were done better than the outsides were. “I am sure I will spend equal time in the ocean and in the pool.”

“I am sure you will, you’ll be brown as a nut when all this is done, we all will.” She laughed and came back in to the living room. “I’ve gone to the store and stocked your basic foods. So you don’t always have to come over to us, but you know you are always welcome.” She smiled and touched his face.  “I am so thrilled that you are here brother.”

“I am thrilled to be here. I am excited for this vacation and I am more the happy to be the one walking her down the aisle. I am shocked she asked me, I thought she would have had Da do it.” Ben said.

“You’ve been her best friend since she was 2 hours old Ben. After her Da died, she couldn’t think of anyone better to give her away then you. I am thrilled you said yes.” Tracy smiled.

“BEN! ARE YOU HERE!?! ” a voice called out from somewhere outside the condo. There was a great clattering on stairs and soon the door swung open and he was bombarded by a small blond thing wrapped around him tightly as could be. “Oh my god, I was so worried you’d never get here, my god, how many interviews did you have to do exactly, oh what does it matter you here now and we can really start to celebrate my wedding! I’m actually getting married! Can you believe it?”

Ben laughed and pushed his niece out to arm’s length and looked at her and smiled. “Well, hello to you too. And I can, and I couldn’t be happier for two people I love more. I also couldn’t be more thrilled with the place you chose, my god, this is perfect!”

“I know! It’s really romantic when the sun comes up, there is a heiau at the end of the property that is the most sacred on all of the island, me and Gin were just walking there, and we saw Granny and PopPop[T2]  coming back, and we rushed over here, that’s why we are out of breath. Ben you remember Gin right?”

Ben looked up at the person who was standing quietly behind them. He looked at her, and after blinking a few times, it all sunk into place. “Imogene?”

She cast her eyes down and nodded.  “Yes, Hello Ben.” She smiled a little.

She was certainly different then the last time he had seen her, nearly, what was it now, fourteen years, no it couldn’t be that long ago. But it was, it had been fourteen years since he had last seen Imogene Menzies, the girl who was a year younger than Emily, who had followed him around for as long as he could remember.

The last time he had seen her, she had her hair in braided pigtails, her teeth were still hidden behind the metal of braces and she had knobby knees and was think as a rail, but now, now she was a vision. Gone were the braces, and the glasses that hid the blue eyes that he had never noticed before, the curves that he had never suspected in her girlhood had certainly come to pass in her women hood. She was round in all of the right ways and her hair was still the most beautiful shade of red he had ever seen, but now, it was lighter at the ends. He was sure that was her doing. He cleared his throat and let go of Emily and held out his hand for her. “It’s nice to see you, you look wonderful.  The last time I saw you was…what, fourteen years ago, I was just back from my year in abroad.”

“I was 17.”She replied.

“You were, you have changed.” He grinned.

“For the better I hope.” She said.

“You’ve grown into a beautiful, stunningly beautiful woman.” He smiled. “I am sad I didn’t get to witness the transformation first hand.”

“I am sad you didn’t either.” She said. “Emily, we should really be getting back. Dominic will be looking for us, remember?”

“Yeah. I do.” Emily replied. “Okay, you rest up and I will see you later, I love you Ben and I am really glad that you are here to give me away. I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it!”  She hugged him tightly again and grabbed Imogene by the arm and lead her back out the door, in just as much of a flurry as she came in.

Tracy looked at her.  “They say brides should be happy and she is. Thank god, I don’t think I could handle her if she wasn’t.” She laughed. “Rest, I will see you tonight for the luau.”

“Oh god, we are doing that tonight?” He asked. “Already?”

“Yes, we are making the most of all this!” She laughed. “I will see you later little brother.” Tracy kissed him on the cheek and left him.

Frankly, she was still trying to make heads or tails of it herself, and she preferred to live in the dream land where it was actually possible for a woman like her to be in a relationship with a man like Benedict Cumberbatch. After seven days, and no little amount of worry that she’d wake up from the particularly lucid dream she was convinced she’d been living, she had only begun to accept the fact it might actually be her reality. Her very thrilling, very satisfying reality. And that it was possible to have heaven on Earth.

Still, though, she couldn’t help but feel there was another shoe that had yet to drop, and when it did drop, it would be ghastly. Perhaps it would come at the Trust dinner, when it would likely become clear to Ben she wasn’t any normal peer’s daughter. That certainly wouldn’t go over well, when she’d had the chance to tell him of her royal connections that first morning after meeting him. So she refused to ruin her small and likely short-lived moments of happiness with university politics and business in which she never wanted to be involved.

Ruth, however, was unimpressed she had been so quickly dismissed. Marion smiled, hoping to assuage Ruth’s scrunched nose. “Good morning, Ruth.”

Her assistant fidgeted in her seat and grabbed a stack of red portfolios on her desk, holding them up for Marion to see. She was undaunted in her task. “I put together the short list for the next dig, like you requested.”

Marion sighed. “There’s not going to be a ‘next dig’ for awhile.”

“What do you mean?”

Marion shrugged, thinking back to the man she had reluctantly let out of her grasp that morning so he could return to his job for a morning call time. She knew Ben would likely support her decision for another dig before she settled down, if that really was their future, but there were others who would not be so welcoming of her penchant of free spiritedness. Her thoughts quickly turned to her father’s edict only a handful of days before. It made her sigh. “My father asked that I take a break from digs.”

“B-but you already have it planned,” Ruth said. “You said on Monday when you came back that it would be—”

“I know what I said.” One of the large tomes in her arms slipped from her grasp and fell to the ground before she could catch it. With a groan of annoyance and roll of her eyes, she set her coffee cup down on a shelf and carefully knelt to pick up the bricklike text. She righted herself and adjusted the slim skirt on her hips.

When she glanced back across the room, Ruth’s bespectacled blue gaze was on her, unyielding and waiting for the rest of the story.

“Dr Morrison will supervise the dig for me,” Marion replied. “She’ll be by to pick up the portfolios some time today.”

Ruth frowned. “She was already by, Marion. She didn’t say anything about it.”

“She came by?”

“Yes. She mumbled something about you not being here earlier and neglecting your duties because you’re finally seeing someone.” Ruth dropped the stack of portfolios on her desk again with an attitude that was not to be mistaken.

Marion laughed. “Actually, I’m late because my infuriating sister conveniently forgot to tell me ahead of time she planned to visit this morning, designer in tow, for a dress fitting for the wedding.”

Which was only partly true. No one would have been at home had she awoken at her normal hour and left for work, but Ben had slept over for the second night in a row and she hadn’t wanted to leave the warmth of the bed—or his arms—before she absolutely had to do so. Hindsight always being twenty-twenty, however, made her rethink her choices. Dodging Willie’s whiny, entitled insistence would always trump staying a few minutes longer in a lover’s arms, no matter how much said lover meant to her.

“Well, that explains why you’re wearing a skirt. Did she dress you today, too?” Ruth asked and shuffled a few papers around on her desk.

Marion looked down at herself and the slim grey pencil skirt and flouncy blouse. She wouldn’t typically have chosen to wear such clothing for a day of lectures and meetings, instead going for comfort in trousers and a blazer, but things had changed. She’d been spending more time shaving legs and doing her makeup this week than she ever remembered doing so before. It felt necessary, almost, to maintain appearances now that she was in a relationship. Not that Ben would have cared—but she cared. And that meant spending more time on her appearance, especially on a day when he planned to visit for lunch. There was something very confirming about the fact that they were visiting each other at their places of employment—even though she had yet to be invited to set.

“No, I dressed myself,” Marion finally replied. “And that’s because I’m getting laid.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Well, would you like me to ring Dr Morrison or have a courier deliver these applications?”

Marion grabbed the stack of portfolios from the desk and added it to the heavy stack of material in her arms. “No, I’m going to tie a pretty bow around them and deliver them to her myself.”

“Thank you,” her assistant said. “You have a student waiting in your office, by the way—the one who needed the book on the Bosch painting.”

Marion looked toward her office, but saw nothing past the door and windows covered with wooden blinds. “Oh, good. How long has she been waiting?”

“Ten minutes or so,” Ruth said. “I said you were due back from a lecture any time, she said she’d wait...”

“Then I better not keep her waiting,” Marion replied. After she had taken the time days ago to find the book for such an obscure piece of renaissance erotic art, but one in which Marion loved, she’d started to wonder if the requester would ever show her face. It wouldn’t have surprised Marion; many students before this one had backed out at the last minute when they needed materials about the more colorful subjects of her life’s work. “I’m expecting someone to arrive on the half hour for lunch. Buzz me when he gets here.”

Ruth nodded her head and turned back to her computer. “Of course, Mari.”

Marion grabbed her coffee from the shelf she’d set it on earlier and carefully waddled the rest of the way to her door with the frosted glass window and black letters spelling her name. It stood slightly ajar—thankfully—allowing her to push it open with a hip instead of maneuvering the things in her hands to twist a knob.

“Good morning,” Marion said cheerfully, taking a step into the room and kicking the door shut behind her. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting—I had a few questions after my lectures.”

The girl sitting in the chair had a bright smile on her lips when she turned to look at the door. “No problem, I understand.”

Marion paused, momentarily attempting to reconcile her idea of what sort of student she expected to find to who actually sat in her office. The student wasn’t a “girl” in the very basic sense of the word, especially as Marion applied it to the teens and early twenty-somethings that predominated the university halls. This was an older woman, maybe only a few years younger than she. She was pretty, too, that much was obvious. Long brunette curls framed a face of flawless skin. She didn’t wear much makeup, but what she did wear was just enough to accentuate her dark hazel eyes. Her clothes were neat and well tailored to her slightly thicker frame.

This was a professional woman. Someone who had lived life a little. Not one of those spoiled idealist upstarts from the fancy boarding schools in which Marion was accustomed to teaching. But neither did she seem particularly academic in the sense of preferring to toil away on essays and presenting them at conferences. She had an open, creative spirit about her that screamed, “ARTIST!” Someone, in Marion’s typically correct estimation, who could become easily stifled by the restrictions of the university setting.

“You’re Emilia?” Marion asked.

She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Marion set her things on her desk and quickly offered her hand. “Marion Jones. Just call me Marion, please.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marion,” Emilia replied. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get over here—life has been absolutely maddening between work and home.”

“I had started to wonder if you’d ever show up,” Marion said with a chuckle, glancing at the wall lined with bookshelves behind her desk. She expected to spot the book she had set aside on her shelf of medieval and renaissance materials, but instead found the miniature Priapus statue, as proud as ever, on that row... and the porcelain dildo from the recent Mongolian dig on the shelf where Priapus had once been with his fellow ancient Greeks. Everything had been rearranged, and Marion instantly knew who to blame. “That bitch!”

The pejorative startled her guest. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, it’s not you, love,” Marion said, waving her off. “My colleague must have come in earlier and rearranged my bookshelves.”

“Ah.”

She trudged over to the desk and began replacing the artifacts where they belonged with their corresponding literature, by region and time period.

“My tutor wasn’t overstating that your specialty was sexual archaeology,” Emilia said.

“Anthropology, really,” Marion murmured, stuffing the statuette of Shiva back into his place. “But it all falls under the same umbrella. I simply prefer to dig old things up so they call me an archaeologist. You’re looking for the Bosch text, correct?”

Emilia nodded. “Yes, the commentary from José de Sigüenza. Professor Fitzgerald said you’d have it in the original Castilian.”

Marion grabbed the book from the shelf where she’d left it and slipped it under her arm. “I do. I’m afraid there’s not a very good translation in the text, so unless you have a decent grasp of Spanish it won’t be much help.”

“Oh, I think I’ll be fine,” Emilia said. “I speak and read Spanish.”

“I have to ask,” Marion said, stretching to reach the crystal phallus sitting prominently on top of the bookshelf—the one she’d only just received via shipment from the US. “Why Bosch? It’s rather random. You’re in for art history, I presume? I get an artistic vibe from you.”

Emilia laughed. “It sort of fell into my lap more than anything. It was The Garden of Earthly Delights or the Saint John Altarpiece by Massys. I’ve been to the Museo del Prado in Madrid and seen The Garden, so I chose that—can I help you reach that?”

Marion stopped struggling and turned to look back at Emilia, who stood from her seat. She was tall. At least a head taller than Marion, and the perfect height to reach the crystal. “Would you?”

“Of course.” Emilia walked around the desk and easily stood on her toes to grasp the phallus and pull it down. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

“Least I can do for your help with the book,” Emilia replied.

Marion held out the phallus, inspecting it for a moment. “Marvelous piece, isn’t it? Just in from a dig in South America.”

Her guest giggled. “I think someone had a bit of wishful thinking.” Emilia glanced again at the other artifacts sitting in the shelves. “I think quite a few people had wishful thinking.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Marion replied. “My boyfriend is rather impressive... not that I should really be saying such things in front of a student.”

Emilia doubled over in laughter. “I don’t mind at all.”

Marion shoved the phallus back in the shelf next to the other renaissance-era texts. She offered the book to Emilia, who took it and ran a hand over the worn cover. “I hope you’ll find this book useful. If you need any more, please come and see me again.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you, Marion. This is very helpful.” Emilia walked back around to her seat and grabbed her bag to slip the book inside. “I’ve looked for this book all over England, and it seems you’re the only person who has it.”

“I’m a collector of rare and random texts,” Marion replied with a laugh, but before she could continue, the intercom buzzed loudly from her desk. “Excuse me.” She pressed the button. “Yes, Ruth?”

There was a moment of silence and then, “Marion, your… he… Ben… Benedict is here to see you.”

Marion grinned from ear to ear. “Send him in.”

She looked up as the door swung open a second later to admit her handsome lover, complete with Sherlock hair, though he had changed out of his costume. He didn’t stop to ascertain that they were alone and walked straight over to her. She sighed in contentment when his hands tangled in her hair at the back of her head in the midst of kissing her. Deeply. As though she were an oasis and he’d been walking through the Sahara for days. It felt wonderful to be needed like that.

A throat cleared somewhere in the room and it took Marion a moment to remember she had a student there, and that this scene probably wasn’t a professional one or even one that seemed logical—most people wouldn’t have expected a famous actor to come walking in to an university professor’s office to take her out to lunch. Sufficiently pulled from the moment and his needy kisses, Marion stepped back a little and licked her rapidly swelling lips.

Marion was just about to say something when Ben’s deep timbre startled her. “Emilia?”

“Benedict?!” Emilia squeaked. “What are you doing here?”

Marion raised one eyebrow as she assessed the situation, the gears slowly turning in her head until the cogs and pins began slipping into place.

“Marion is my girlfriend. Well, I mean I hope she is, we’ve only actually been seeing each other for a week, but we’ve been email dating since… well… since...” he said as he gathered her up into a tight hug. “She was the one I was telling you about.”

Marion looked between them and, like a light bulb clicking on illuminating the darkness, everything fell into place. Everything suddenly made sense. “You’re who broke his heart. You’re the one who pushed him—It was you! You’re that Emilia!”

“Oh, Marion, it was a mutual thing, I didn’t push—” Emilia started.

“Dr Jones.” Marion made no effort to disguise her contempt, even though she didn’t know why she felt so vitriolic. Emilia seemed like a nice enough a girl, but how could she have rejected Ben?

Emilia’s shoulders slumped. She sighed the sigh of someone long suffering. “Dr Jones, Ben is just a good friend. It was because of me… that he…”

“Marion,” Ben started. She looked up at him, his blue eyes filled with something close to admiration and love. “It’s really alright. Without her, I would have never found you. Don’t be too mad at her.”

She leaned into him and possessively ran her hand over his chest from the center all the way down to the waist of his jeans. Emilia at least had the decency to avert her eyes, a rosiness rising on her perfect cheeks. Marion instantly hated how fetching it made Emilia, even in her apparent discomfort.

Ben leaned in and drew his lover’s attention away from Emilia with another kiss, cradling Marion’s head in his hand and tipping her back a little. He broke the kiss and smiled. Marion knew he was trying to diffuse the situation, but it wasn’t working.

Emilia made another noise as they both turned to face her. “I think I’m going to go. Thank you for the book, Dr Jones. I’ll have it returned to you by the end of the term. Ben, I’ll see you soon. Sam will be asking for you once he hears that I’ve seen you.”

Ben nodded and smiled warmly. “I owe him a footy date. I’ve not seen my buddy in awhile. Tell him I’ll call him in a few days.”

Emilia nodded. “Of course. Both of you have a lovely afternoon.”

Marion waited until Emilia had exited the room before she dared look back up at Ben. Ben was hers. Not Emilia’s. He would never be Emilia’s. Ben ran a hand through the mop of curls on his head.

“You never said you knew her,” Ben murmured. “What a small world.”

“I didn’t know her until a little bit ago,” Marion said, but had to stop when he kissed her again. “I don’t like that you still see her. She broke your heart.”

“And you mended it in a most spectacular fashion, love.” He left her side and fell into the chair behind her desk. Ben looked at her expectantly, but said nothing more as though he’d placated her enough. She was, however, far from satisfied.

“So that’s it, then? You’re still going to keep seeing her?”

Ben groaned. “Marion, love, she’s my friend. I’ve been keeping my distance from her not only because I was sad it didn’t work, but also because she asked me to stay away for awhile. After what happened in March—”

“What happened in March?”

“The thing with Tom Hiddleston and Georgina Cavendish,” he said. “We haven’t really had the chance to talk about it—I didn’t tell you about that because then you would have known it was me when we were emailing.”

Marion frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. Nothing good could ever come from a story that involved Georgina Cavendish. After all, the painful memories of school bullying still haunted Marion. But it didn’t make her feel any less wary of Emilia. “I don’t know what happened.”

“You mean you didn’t see the bomb that dropped? Tom and Emilia were sleeping together when he was still supposedly in a relationship with Georgina, though that’s a whole mess I can’t get into right now. My name got dragged through the mud, too, because I’d been trying to woo Emilia. I was attracted to her, but we didn’t want the same things,” Ben explained, though Marion felt sure there was a lot of the story he was leaving out in his summary. “If you want to blame anyone, blame me. Because I pushed Emilia. She just didn’t know what she wanted. And Georgina fucked it up for everyone.”

Marion sighed.

“Now,” Ben said. “I’ve come to take you out for lunch. Can we please forget about it and have a good lunch?”

She closed her eyes and nodded her head. It wasn’t worth the fight. Her issue was with Emilia, not with Ben, and it was only because she was insecure in herself. Marion settled onto the desk in front of him, the action pulling up her skirt just a little bit to show her thighs. “And just what did you have in mind to—ahem—eat for lunch, Benedict?”

That was all it took to get their mind off the matter, at least for several heated, rushed minutes. Marion finally came to a rest supported against his chest and clung to him, not willing to let him up from the chair and out of her grasp. Benedict Cumberbatch was hers.

“You’re very good at that. Exceptionally good at that,” she said, brushing her lips against his sweaty temple.

Ben’s deep chuckle resonated through her chest and through to the rest of her body. He smiled and kissed her forehead. “I can’t say I have ever had any complaints, even when I was a teenager. Some people are just born with natural talent.”

“Oh, yes, I can agree with that,” she giggled. “Or maybe it was all the fertility symbols. You were hopped up on their power. They made you feel like a man.”

He growled a little and pushed her back towards the desk, nipping at her neck again. “I’m always a man. Almost more man than you can handle.”

“Oh, really? As an appraiser of cock from around the world…” she started.

“You can stop right there. I don’t need to know how my cock compares to some ancient Mongol’s from two thousand years ago. I can guarantee you I’ve certainly used it with far more vigor and style this afternoon…” he laughed a little more.

“Attila the Hun had hundreds of lovers. And thousands of children, supposedly,” she said. “Now that’s a legacy.”

“I only want one—maybe three at the most.” He winked at her. “Now, get right, I really am going to take you to lunch, Marion Jones. I am famished. I feel like I’ve run a marathon.”

She needed no more inducement to stand from her spot and wiggle her hips a bit to push her skirt down over her thighs. “Oh, darling, you did exercise quite vigorously.”

They silently worked together sorting out the few garments they’d scattered about, smoothing hair and fixing makeup. It wasn’t until Marion was reaching into her desk drawer for her handbag that Ben grabbed her arm and pulled her to his chest, planting another dizzying kiss on her lips. When he finished, he stepped back and cupped her cheek with his large hand. His thumb traced the contour of her oversensitive lips, burning a trail as it moved.

“You know you don’t have anything to worry about with Emilia, right?” he asked quietly.

She looked up at him. “I don’t?”

“No. Nothing,” he said. Benedict pushed a wisp of hair from her perspiring forehead. “The first time you cracked a joke and sent me a picture of a crude drawing that you had found in a cave, I knew you were the girl for me. You make me smile and laugh. You’re the only girl I could ever want.”

“You’re sure?” she asked.

“Positive, milady,” he said, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips for a sweet kiss.

With that assurance, he lead her from the office hand-in-hand. Ruth jumped a half mile when the door opened, as though she’d been caught red handed. She blushed and spluttered.

Marion frowned. “Ruth, are you okay?”

“I, um… yes…” she managed, but barely. “Just, um, you know how the button on your intercom is really sensitive?”

Marion nodded. “Yeah, we have a work order in for a new one, don’t we?”

“We do. I just, um, sometimes you would… hit the button…”

Marion looked at her and then at Benedict before she burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Ruth, I am so sorry. Next time we’ll be more careful.”

“Please,” was her assistant’s strangled reply.

Marion giggled. “Anytime.”

Ben’s confusion only made her laugh more. Ruth hid her face when Ben asked why she was laughing. “Does someone want to explain to me what exactly all that means?”

“I’ll explain it at lunch,” Marion said. “I’ll be out, Ruth. Hold down the fort.”

He’d intended to come down and fix breakfast for them while Marion slept, undeterred as she was to wake after their long, and rather amazing night together, but it was daunting prospect in such a strange kitchen. Thinking he ought to have prodded her awake to ask the questions in which he needed answers, he quickly tossed the idea away. He wanted to be romantic. And romance didn’t begin with waking up your lover before she was good and ready on a Sunday lie in. Besides, he didn’t think she’d consider it a huge breach of first date sex etiquette to go rooting through a kitchen for the essentials when the intention was a good one. At least, he hoped it wasn’t.

As luck would have it, however, he found the breakfast try in the first cupboard he looked into without needing her guidance. The rest of the feast took a little more time to procure as he opened and closed cupboards and drawers, but undaunted he remained until he had set the kettle for tea and located the clotted cream and strawberries in the fridge.

A growly yip took his attention away from his assessment of the ripe fruits. Denny stood at the back door, and once the dog had his attention, it turned to look at the door and scratch at it. Ben chuckled. At least he knew the universal sign of needing to relieve oneself. Knowing that it was better to make peace with the beast sooner rather than later, he let Denny out into the garden to do his business. The dog seemed to grunt his thanks and hobbled out onto the small patch of frost-covered grass. Ben left the door open in case Denny wanted to come back in, and then went back to his work, the dog ever present in his mind.

He found himself strangely fond of the rotund creature, despite the scene the previous evening when Marion had given him a tour of the house ending in her bedroom. Denny had been hot on their heels, but Ben had tried—valiantly, mind—to ignore him; Marion was fond of the dog, so he quickly decided it was best not to ask her to choose between them so soon after meeting. However, there was nothing romantic or even a little sexy about two beady black eyes peering over the bedside at you accompanied by a grotesque amount of heavy breathing that was, in fact, not your own.

Intent on impressing Marion with his prowess—Ben wanted nothing more than to make a good and lasting impression on her—he had informed her that he could not “perform”, as it were, with an audience. Either Denny or he had to go.

Marion had giggled and pushed him aside, wobbling as she walked toward the door, shooing the peeper onto the landing outside her bedroom where she shut the door in his jowly face. After ten minutes of Denny making quite the racket in the hall, he finally quieted down, and they were able to fully resume their planned activities for the evening without breaking down into too many giggles from the indignant grunts Denny had first made upon his removal from the room.

It certainly wouldn’t be a memory he was soon to forget, even if the sex had ended up being mediocre. Fortunately, it had not, and it had him feeling rather relaxed. It was early days for them, but he knew he’d never tire of her physically. He wanted to learn everything about her body, from the toes up, and last night had been but a taste of what he wanted. He hoped above all hopes Marion agreed with him and that they could explore it further.

When he’d woken up in the wee hours of the morning in her bed and actually had the chance to take stock of everything that had happened within the last twenty-four hours, he had the very real and very strange sense of completion. As though he had finally, after so very long, achieved one of the most important items on the proverbial bucket list. He’d been searching for this all consuming feeling of contentment his whole life. That moment when all the planets aligned and it just felt right. He’d never experienced it, not even in his past relationships. Strange, though, that they’d had to meet online to do it. He would have never guessed it would happen like it had. But he was more than grateful to have done it now.

He would have to remember to send Amanda and Martin a thank-you basket, or bouquet, or send them on holiday. Something to thank them for setting him up on that delightful website where he had found her. When he found Marion.

His Marion.

Nothing seemed enough to adequately thank them for what they had brought into his life. Sure, he still wasn’t happy that they’d done it behind his back, but they had engineered this in their own well meaning way. And he couldn’t let them go ignored for their efforts in bringing this beautiful, intelligent and wickedly funny woman into his life.

With a grin for himself and a small sigh, he turned to check on the kettle, but froze in his spot when he realized he wasn’t alone, and it most certainly wasn’t Denny or Marion who had joined him. A weird, deep yell shot from his mouth. Unable to stop the noise, he closed his eyes and opened them to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. There, standing with her hip resting against the counter tops was all (nearly) six and a half feet of Ismay, staring at him with an expression of amusement on her face. She ran her gaze from head to toe and back up again. A grinning laugh bubbled on her lips.

“Mornin’,” she said with a toss of her hair so that a bit of her platinum fringe wouldn’t be in her eyes.

Benedict had never felt so exposed. He normally wouldn’t have minded the attention, but his current state of complete undress made it difficult to meet the strange woman’s gaze and stand there proudly. Other men might have had more fortitude, but he did not in light of being unfairly surprised like this.

His eyes darted to the nearest thing he could find to give him any shred of decency. The small white tea towel he’d used to clean up a bit of spilled cream only covered the most necessary bits, but it was enough for him to regain some footing with Ismay.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in here, Ismay?” He didn’t take any precaution to hide his annoyance. It wasn’t wise to corner him like that.

“I have a key, and if you’re standing nude in the middle of her kitchen the very first morning after, I think you’ll be getting one, too, now won’t you?” She laughed. “And you left the garden door open. I heard Denholm in the back garden when I walked up. I thought I’d go check on him.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because Marion told me to come by this morning so we could overanalyze her date. She wasn’t supposed to be inviting you to stay over.”

She reached over, completely unfrazzled, and plucked one of the strawberries off the platter. He watched her chew the ripe fruit, but didn’t make any effort to move. He couldn’t move, really. His legs refused to work properly.

Ismay nodded to his tea towel and turned back to the tray. “You know, you don’t have to cover yourself like that…”

“And just why not?” he asked indignantly.

Before Ismay could answer, Marion’s voice interjected, “Because it doesn’t do anything for her.”

“Huh?” Ben frowned and spun around as Marion joined the small party in the kitchen.

Marion smiled and stepped over to him. She stood on her bare tip-toes and brushed a soft kiss across his lips in passing. It had the exact opposite effect on his body than he wanted at the moment. Why the fuck hadn’t he beat feet out of the room anyway? There was no reason to be standing in the middle of the kitchen with his girlfriend and her best friend... the best friend who now had to be checking out his arse.

He spun around again and pressed up against the counter top, flinching as his bum connected with the cold granite. “But...”

“Now if I was here in nothing but what God had graced me with upon my birth, it’d be a little different matter,” Marion added with a wink at her friend.

Benedict looked down at her. She wore his button down from the night before. It fit spectacularly well across the shape of her full breasts but did not pucker at the button plackets. Despite having spent the night on the floor, it didn’t look particularly wrinkled. And goddamn, did her breasts look amazing from this angle above her.

No, no! Margret Thatcher and Winston Churchill in the bath together! That’s what he needed to be thinking about, not the shape of Marion’s breasts under his shirt or the fact that she also wore his pants slung dangerously low on her hips and rolled at the waist to keep them up, really showing more of her long legs than she probably intended.

Ismay distracted him momentarily. “Even though I like to order off the dessert menu, doesn’t mean I don’t like to look at the whole thing!”

Marion laughed. “Like a fine work of art, isn’t he?”

Benedict tried not to let his head—either of them—grow too large at the acknowledgement. As much as he loved to hear Marion say it, in front of Ismay, whom he did not know very well, it was odd. Very, very odd. And yet, even though he could very easily escape, he didn’t. He let them both look... with the well-placed tea towel, though.

Ismay grinned. “I have to say, Ben, as someone who has listened to Marion explain—ad nauseam—about the ideal prick for the last ten plus years, and how it has to be something more than what it was in classical art, but not so much what it was in sub-continent Indian fertility art in the 6th century. Oh, and clearly she wants something more than the Egyptians preferred in any dynastic period... you, Benedict Cumberbatch, may just have the most ideal prick on the face of the known planet. And all men should bow down to you. You should swell with a sense of pride.”

“Oh, Ismay, really? That was crude even for you!” Marion exclaimed and shook her head. “Honestly.”

Ismay, not to be scolded, continued, “Part of you really likes it, Marion. Let’s be honest. Judging by the way you’re glowing this morning, you certainly liked it.”

Marion rolled her eyes, but Ben didn’t miss the becoming blush that spread across her cheeks. God she was beautiful.

The kettle interrupted the conversation for a moment while Marion began making tea. Ben watched with some interest at the expert way she went about it, as though she’d done it in a rather formal setting before beyond serving tea to family and friends at her home. He wondered about this bit of information, but stored it away to ask her later. Marion grabbed a third tea cup from the cupboard, presumably for Ismay. Clearly, she’d be staying at least as long as a cuppa lasted her.

So he sighed and said, “I, um, think I am going to go upstairs to find my trousers.”

“Oh, are you embarrassed? You shouldn’t be. Most men when they find out I’m a lesbian just kinda let things… hang.” She smiled. “You’re amongst friends. Feel free.”

“I am not that kind of gent, Ismay,” he said.

“Shame, you really are a fine example of masculinity,” Ismay replied and popped another strawberry into her mouth. “But you probably should go put some trousers on, Ben. Jane’ll be here any minute.”

“Jane?” he asked.

Marion turned around to look at Ismay, a hand on her forehead. “Oh my god, Jane! I forgot to tell her to come later! It’s probably a good thing you were the one to happen across him, then, Iz. If not, Jane would have had a stroke!”

Ben took a breath, annoyed that he hadn’t been acknowledged. “Who’s Jane?”

“My personal secretary,” Marion replied in passing. She grabbed a strawberry and dipped it in the clotted cream.

“Why do you need a personal secretary?” he asked. “On a Sunday?”

“It’s not important.”

Clearly, it was important, but he could see he wasn’t going to get anywhere with her.

Ismay shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “Alright, I should be off. I have a meeting with a vicar’s daughter after she gets out of church and I only just stopped by to make sure that your date went well. I’m satisfied that it did.”

Benedict looked at her. “It went very well. Good bye, Ismay.”

She laughed and shook her head. “See you two later. Marion, call me.”

He waited until he heard the door thwap shut before he sagged in relief. Benedict wasted no time in pressing Marion back against the counter top and giving her a real kiss. The kind that necessitated running his tongue along the contour of her full lips to remove the access of the sweet fruit and cream she’d been eating. When he finally stepped back, he smiled. “Good morning.”

“Well, good morning to you, too,” she said as she struggled to find air. “This really is a lovely sight to see first thing in the morning. You naked and wearing a tea towel in my kitchen. I could get used to seeing this, Mr. Cumberbatch.”

“You’re wicked, Ms. Jones.”

Marion pushed away from him. “That’s Dr. Jones, to you.”

“I do like a powerful, intelligent woman,” he mused.

“I don’t know about powerful, but I’ll give you intelligent,” Marion laughed.

Ben pulled her back against her chest and tossed the tea towel aside. “I guess I can stop thinking about Margret Thatcher and Winston Churchill in the bath together now.”

“Why on earth were you thinking of that?” A delicate hand pressed against his chest and slowly traced a trail down his front, stopping in the general area of his navel. It was hot and it was maddening. All he wanted to do was throw her over the counter and have his way with her.

“Because seeing you in my clothes caused certain parts of my body to stir, and the very last thing I needed was for Ismay to see that. I have a feeling she would never let me live it down if I got an erection in the middle of the kitchen. It would be Christmas dinners and birthday parties years from now and she’d still be telling the story of the time she saw Benedict’s hard on.”

Marion laughed, dropping her fingers further still until she gripped him. “I hate to break it to you, Benedict, but she’ll be telling this story years from now anyway. And it will become more embellished every time she tells it—so you should have let it go.”

“I have to keep some mystery.” His laugh died away on his lips and turned into a growl as she moved her hand slowly up and down his length. “Are we going to do this here in the kitchen?”

“We can if you want to,” she said.

“What about Jane?”

Marion shrugged. “She’ll be another hour or so. She does my shopping on Sundays.”

“Why do you need a secretary, Marion?”

She sighed and pushed away from him completely. He could see in her eyes that this was a subject she didn’t want to get into, but he knew better than anyone it was preferable to find out all the details about someone before going too far.

“You won’t just let it go, will you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said with a shake of his head. “You know my past—we’ve talked about it before. And I have nothing to hide, now that you know who I am. I’d prefer the same from the woman I’ve been talking to for six months.”

Marion sipped her tea as though to fortify herself and then finally spoke. “I’m the eldest daughter of a peer. It’s just what’s done in my family. I have obligations and such that aren’t just to my job, but to the family and the title, too. So I have Jane. She keeps house, does the shopping and harangues me about my schedule.”

Benedict stood silently, considering her words and the nervousness on her face. Why in the world was she so nervous about all that? “Did you think I wouldn’t like you because you’re some duke’s daughter?”

“Well—people have had issues with it in the past,” she replied. “And Dad’s an earl, not a duke.”

“It’s not like you’re a royal or anything.”

Marion afforded him a laugh that sounded stilted at best, but he decided to ignore it. He could see that the whole conversation wasn’t on her list of preferable subjects. “You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you?”

“No! Of course not. After the stunt I pulled not telling you who I really was? This is nothing! I have an assistant, too. It just seemed odd because, well, you’re a professor... not... me,” He reached out for her, but she made no effort to close the gap between them. “Come here, Marion. Please?”

She cast him a wary look but allowed him to wrap his arms around her.

Ben kissed her forehead, then her lips. Lightly, but he hoped meaningfully. “My parents are bloody lunatics sometimes, too. But I would hope you wouldn’t hold it against them.”

Her natural, full laugh was back at that. “I won’t. I want to meet your parents.”

“And I want to meet yours,” he said.

“Good, because there’s a dinner I have to attend in a few weeks,” she replied. “My father hosts it every year—he’s on the board of governors for a Trust that funds the university archaeological institute. Hopefully you can come.”

Benedict laughed and pushed some of her wild hair behind an ear. “I have to check my filming schedule, but I wouldn’t miss it.”

Marion nodded and rested her head against his chest. They stood like this in the middle of her sunny kitchen for some time, listening to the grunting and rooting dog outside the window over the sink. Finally, she looked up at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “So... about what we started...”

“We should go upstairs,” he said. “If your secretary will be here—”

“Not for a half hour now.” She pulled away from him and stepped over to the counter. There she pushed the breakfast try aside and hopped up on the cool granite surface. When she settled, she caught his eyes and began to undo buttons, one by one, achingly slowly. “Now you have twenty-five minutes, Mr. Cumberbatch. Time’s wasting. Do you want me or not?”