#ballumsecretsanta

There weren’t many people on the Square that Ben truly hated. Being the crime lord that he was he didn’t have time for petty squabbles. But from the first few interactions he’d had with Callum Highway, as he made himself a home behind the bar in The Vic, and subsequently into his life Ben had hated him.

(And it wasn’t like it was completely unwarranted. He’d deliberately tipped a glass of expensive whiskey over Ben’s head the day they met- an accident- he’d claimed at the time.)

But more importantly Ben had wanted him. From the moment he’d stepped into his local and made himself comfortable behind his bar, pulling sloppy pints for the punters, Callum Highway had been on Ben’s radar. Not many men got a second look in. 

But this man was gorgeous, all doe-eyed, and big eared. He had stubble for days that Ben would murder, torture, maim for. Just to feel the burn of it between his thighs- it was endearing in a horny kind of way.

So, being a man who usually gets what he wants, Ben made his quips and his horizontal jokes, laying it on thick trying to gage a reaction. He could tell that his not-so-subtle comments were starting to make the man uncomfortable. Could see it in the way Callum awkwardly shuffled from one foot to the other, looking left and right to make sure no one was watching their exchange, because god forbid Ben actually be allowed to enjoy himself and flirt openly in such a public place.

Ben had deduced that the only logical explanation for the stench of whiskey all over his head had to have been a deterrent for his advances, whether that was because the bloke was still closeted- he kind of understands that one, people do stupid shit when they’re trying to hide, and maybe he relishes the idea of helping him along on his big, gay adventure. But another part of him, one he doesn’t like to assume, is that the man simply wasn’t interested. Either way, Ben isn’t used to being so viciously denied what he wants. So naturally it rubs him the wrong way.

Therefore, from that moment onwards he’d made up his mind about Callum, never truly letting go of his grudge, no matter how ridiculous it was. Obviously, everything Callum did from that point on annoyed the fuck out of him, especially when he aims his clever little digs about being a good man directly in his vicinity.

 ***

 Ben’s eyes start to water, he’s been under the same car for over an hour now and all the work he’s done so far has all been for nought. He closes his eyes and brings a hand up to wipe at them with the sleeve of his overalls. His patience is wearing thin and so he decides to finish up the job later. He’s also beyond done being gassed out by his own stupidly expensive, useless-piece-of-shit car. He slides himself out from under it and hits something on his way out; he’s halted in his position by a pair of long legs blocking him from going any further. He admires the way the jeans cling to the man’s calves and follows their path up the thickest pair of thighs he’s seen in a long time, and after a few minutes of mindless admiration he finally reaches the man’s face. He groans audibly and blinks up at the man, slapping the outstretched hand away as he stands to his feet.

“What do you want, Halfway?” He grunts. “I’m busy.”

Callum meets his eyes and frowns, but he eventually places a cup of steaming hot coffee on the table beside Ben.

“Thought I’d bring you this,” He says, doing that clumsy shuffling motion that Ben hates with his feet. “To apologise, for the other night…with the drink…and the, uh, assumptions I made.”

Ben eyes the man in front of him, looks him up and down- doesn’t notice the way the blue shirt he’s wearing makes his arms look solid, or the way his eyes sparkle with a sincere smile.

Nope, he only notices the way it makes his blood boil. The overly sweet ‘being the bigger man’ act makes him want to be the bad guy Callum so brazenly painted him out to be, so he chooses to stick to his guns and show him exactly the kind of man he is if pushed too hard, he amps up the bravado just for Callum’s sake and smiles.

“That’s real nice of you, Callum.” He clicks his tongue for emphasis, “But I only accept apologies in the form of blowies, so unless you’re here to get your knees nice an’ dirty, I’d be on my way.”

Callum holds his stare until the tension hits too close and he drops his head and nods in defeat. Or so Ben thinks as he perks back up.

“Why can’t you just talk to me like a normal person?” He exhales.

“Instead of what? The raging queer that I am.”

“No, that’s not- I didn’t mean-“

“Just leave it, yeah.” Ben snaps, “I don’t want your apologies, and I don’t want your coffee, so get back on your high horse and gallop away.” He twiddles his fingers towards the exit.

Callum shakes his head again and turns to walk away but just as he’s about to walk out he turns back to Ben.

“Everyone else in this Square might be scared of you, Ben- but I’m not. I see you. Deep down you want more out of life than making people fear you. You can’t run away from your feelings forever, Ben. Stop being such a coward.”

The words have a lasting effect; they leave a bitter taste in his mouth, one he can’t seem to purge- no matter how much dick and alcohol he consumes himself in that night in a pitiful attempt to forget.

 ***

 About a month after their last encounter at The Arches Ben finds out that Callum is, miraculously, into men. He is watching him, clear as day, as he tries to flirt in all his awkward 6 foot something glory. Ben scrutinises the scene in front of him. Callum winks with both eyes shut (the man is insufferable) in the direction of a barely even average-looking bloke who’s given him what looks like a hefty tip for pulling a simple Guinness. It only amps him up further. Ben taps his fist on the bar and clears his throat loudly, interrupting the pitiful looks being thrown between the two men.

“Any chance of that drink any time soon, mate? I’m dying of thirst over ‘ere. And I’d like it in my mouth this time, not over my head.” Ben finishes, huffing impatiently.

He hears the nameless fool offer up some sort of apology in the form of a gracious stroke of his hand across Callum’s. The man catches his eye. He withdraws his hand and averts his gaze, heading over to one of the booths, a pint of a sloppy headed Guinness in hand.

Callum approaches him finally with a straight whiskey, no ice. His exact order. He nearly trips on the non-slip mat on his way over, which Ben sniggers at. His laughter settles the second Callum makes direct eye contact with him. He looks pissed. His cheeks are flushed and pretty and Ben momentarily loses all train of thought as he admires the way the flush brings out Callum’s sea blue eyes. The moment abruptly ends as Callum slams the tumbler directly in front of him. The amber liquid sloshes over the side of the glass and drips down his hand. It makes Ben want to laugh harder or lick it off- he isn’t sure which. But he notices Callum’s eyes narrow and the way he subtly puffs out his broad chest to try and assert some sort of dominance. Laughter is definitely the last thing on Ben’s mind now as he lets his eyes drift over the expanse of Callum’s shoulders and down his chest, before drawing them back to the eyes of a still very pissed off Callum.

“That was one time. And I’ve already apologised for it so give it a rest, yeah? Stop being so rude.”

Ben guffaws, “Rude? Me? Dunno what you’re on about, babe. I’m a delight.”

It’s apparently the wrong thing to say, or the right thing, considering the sound that erupts from Callum’s chest.

“Says who, eh? Everything I’ve ever heard about you suggests you’re an arrogant asshole whose only objective is to get laid, make selfish life decisions, and fuck with people’s heads, and every interaction since we’ve met only confirms it.”

The insult hits its intended target a little too accurately and all Ben’s defensive barriers bare their teeth as he tilts his chin and clicks his jaw into place.

“Is that right?”

Callum seems to take a physical step back at the malice in his tone, but he bravely stands his ground, “Well, the way you come in here all high and mighty like you own the place only seems to prove my point.”

Ben’s heard more than enough for tonight. It’s bad enough that he has to hear the whispers being spread about him on the daily, having to watch as people cower in fear and cross the street when he walks by, but to stand here in his local pub and let some infuriatingly gorgeous man insult him so boldly without knowing a damn thing about him?

Fuck that.

The rage rattles around in his brain at the sheer audacity of this prick. Ben takes a deep breath, downs his whiskey, and looks up at Callum with barely-concealed anger simmering in his eyes. He leans a little closer to the man hidden behind his bar.

“You really shouldn’t worry that pretty head of yours over rumours, Callum. Though, I am interested in knowing why you seem to be so invested in such an arrogant asshole. So much so that it seems you’ve been asking around about me.” Ben picks up the glass, swirls it around and necks the last of his shot without even waiting for an answer.

“If you’re so desperate to know what it’s like to have my lips around your cock, sweetheart- try asking nicely next time.”

He slams his glass back onto the counter, blows a kiss at the spluttering man, and walks out the door. He takes in a deep breath of fresh air to calm him. The unbridled rage simmers for a second as he recalls the interaction, but as he allows more air to hydrate his lungs he feels slightly lighter. The rage diminishes. The image of Callum gasping around like a fish out of water trying desperately to form a single, coherent thought at the end there is seared into his brain. He smiles sadly to himself and heads home to his lonely apartment.

 ***

 The next time he sees Callum he bumps into him, literally, in his club The Albert, two bottles of beer in his hands that sway precariously as the two stumble back, but still very much in each other’s personal space. Ben can’t help noting how built Callum is; a strong, firm chest he’d happily spend hours exploring.

Woah. Nope. Absolutely not.

He nips those very dangerous thoughts in the bud before they have time to fester, but cleverly stores them away for another day. He straightens himself and pushes Callum away, but not far enough that he can’t still smell the musky aftershave that lingers in the air.

“Watch yourself, darlin’- wouldn’t want another drink to go to waste now, would we? Plus, my ass looks far too good in these jeans to be drowned in drinks this early in the evening.”

Ben feels it the moment Callum realises who he’s bumped into and he remarks, rather intriguingly, that Callum’s pupils have blown out any trace of blue as his eyes take him in. Ben’s inner turmoil coils hotly at the implication in Callum’s gaze. Maybe he’s not entirely fooling himself. Maybe Callum likes it a little rough. He’s tempted to push harder, do a slow dramatic spin, show off the old fife and drum*, and walk away. But before he can think too long on those particular thoughts, he forces himself to shake it off. He blames the second slip of sanity that evening on the alcohol flowing through his veins. He’ll also blame the alcohol for the fact that his jeans have tightened to an almost uncomfortable degree- because there’s absolutely no way he’s going to blame that on the way Callum is currently staring longingly at his lips, like any second he’ll be dragged down the aisle and forced to marry a woman against his will unless he takes what he wants right here and now.

Nope, it’s definitely, undeniably the alcohol he’ll blame.  

Get it together, Mitchell, for fuck’s sake.

Ben yanks his mind out of the gutter, snaps his head up and away from Callum’s lips and pushes past him a little harder than is probably necessary in their current state.

“See you around, babe.” He says as he walks away, refusing to acknowledge the table Callum makes his way over to, or the ridiculously good-looking and entirely too broad man Callum hands the second beer he has in his hand to.

Doesn’t notice a damn thing.

 ***

 The night drags on, and on, and on. And Ben is disappointed to realise he hasn’t once clocked eyes with Callum since their encounter earlier. It spins a little ball of unwelcome anxiety in the pit of his stomach. So loud is his current predicament that he can’t even enjoy the lavish treatment that the faceless man currently draped over his lap is offering him, whose head is buried so deep in his neck he can feel the heat of his tongue working overtime to secure victory.

Ben remains unresponsive. Because it’s not the tongue Ben wants working his body into full thickness. He’s too wound up with thoughts of Callum fucking Highway to give this guy a second thought. He pulls the bloke’s head away from his neck and tells him to get lost. The man looks at him in disappointment but doesn’t make a sound as he removes himself from Ben’s lap and worms his way into another couple’s face-sucking fest on the opposite sofa.

Ben’s head is hazy from all the alcohol he’s consumed. He rubs at his eyes and focuses on trying to find the man his head won’t let him forget- hoping to God he isn’t already balls deep in some asshole that isn’t him. And, as if by some divine miracle of holy intervention, Callum comes into view. He’s stood in the middle of the dance floor, swaying his hips to the beat. He currently has two men vying for his attention. But, it’s nice to note, that Callum seems so absorbed in the music that he’s drowned out all lusty intentions aimed his way, including his own, Ben reflects grimly.

Oh, but Ben is way past rational thought now; all he knows is that he wants. He needs Callum’s piercing blue eyes back on him immediately, wants those large hands wrapping around his waist, pulling him in as they gyrate against each other to the deep bass line. He knocks back another whiskey and makes his way over to where Callum is currently locked in amongst a throng of sweaty bodies.

Ben thanks his lucky stars that his over-inflated reputation can get him exactly what he wants in this moment, because as people lay eyes on him they deliberately move out of his way, paving an effortless pathway to his intended target. The two men drooling over Callum notice his approach, they recognise who he is, and identify the fire in his eyes as a clear sign to back the fuck off- because they do so without question.  

The first touch is everything Ben hoped it would be. He trails both palms over Callum’s wide hips, gripping tight as he presses in close at Callum’s back, his crotch is now firmly against Callum’s ass, moving with him as he sways. Callum is utterly spellbound, letting the flow of the song take over, but Ben senses the shiver that runs up Callum’s spine and laments as he pushes back into him, latching onto the warmth of the body encompassing him. Ben knows Callum is clueless as to who the man behind him is. The fact that he’s allowing some random guy to touch him so intimately and without question makes him want to stake an irrational claim; to let Callum know exactly who it is he’s dancing with. So he does.

He ends up spinning an unsuspecting Callum around as he forces his way into the taller man’s space. He wraps his arms around Callum’s neck and wedges a knee between his parted legs which he rotates slowly to the beat. Callum braces himself as his eyes fall on his new dance partner, they widen a fraction and then a slow smirk sweeps across his face. He places a large hand dangerously low on Ben’s spine and draws him in, hitching Ben’s leg higher up his own so he’s practically straddling him mid-air. It stirs something hot and possessive in Ben’s stomach and his cock twitches at the delicious friction as he moves deliberately up and down Callum’s solid thigh. Not a single word passes between them as they continue their grinding- and little do they know that the bodies around them have shifted, leaving the two of them to their very enticing game of who folds first. The tension in the air is palpable as they practically dry hump each other on the dance floor.

The fast pace of the current song slows as it bleeds into a much heavier bass line, it prompts Callum to turn Ben in his arms and pull him tight against his chest with one hand firmly planted on his stomach. The grinding morphs into a deep thrusting motion as Ben lets his head fall back onto Callum’s shoulder. He takes the cue and falls into the crook of Ben’s neck, lavishing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the seam, running his tongue wetly over the protruding vein. It causes Ben’s legs to surrender under the ministrations, but the hand on his stomach keeps him rooted to the spot, thankfully. He lets out a low groan that rumbles through the palm of Callum’s hand and travels up to his ears. Ben feels the smile stretch out on Callum’s lips as he continues his soft sucking, not quite hard enough to leave a mark though, he thinks sadly. And since fucking when did he want someone else’s claim so clearly branded on his skin? He must be really fucking drunk. (Spoiler alert: He’s not that drunk.)

It feels too good to listen to rational thoughts as he loses all sense of himself, let’s himself be picked apart at the seams, strand by strand. His breathy pants give him away, getting sharper and more obvious with every flick of Callum’s tongue, working him into a frenzy. Callum’s hand slides down his body and brushes along his painfully hard erection, he grips it tightly and squeezes him over his jeans, and Ben swears he almost blows his load right there and then. Mortifying. But before he can truly enjoy the feeling of a clearly very skilful hand on his cock he’s violently wrenched out of Callum’s arms and pulled into the hard body of a vaguely familiar man, the one Callum was sat with earlier in the evening, Ben recalls a little too quickly.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” The burly man grunts in his face.

Ben pushes the guy away and squares his shoulders, making himself appear taller than he actually is; a trait he lives by, especially in his line of work: Never back down (no matter how big they are.)

“Thought that was pretty obvious, mate.” Ben spits back. “We were getting all hot and heavy on the dance floor, and you just rudely interrupted.”

The gruff man looks between Ben and Callum as if he can’t quite grasp the concept.

“Yeah well- you’ve had your fun, Mitchell- this one’s mine.”

Ben scoffs in his face and turns to raise an eyebrow at Callum, who he’s delighted to see has the most ridiculous look of panic on his face, like he’s been caught with his pants round his ankles in the middle of The Square.

“That right?” Ben goads turning back to the scumbag with the biggest grin on his face. He takes a deliberate step forward, “Coz I’m pretty sure it was my dick he had in his hands, not yours.” He can see the tick in the taller man’s eyes as he takes one more step, “And I’m pretty sure calling ownership over a bloke is considered indecent these days, mate. But that must be too modern for a dumb fuck like you to grasp. So why don’t you go on your merry little way, yeah, and get the fuck out of my club.”

The next few moments pass in a blur of knuckles, splattered blood, and incoherent screams as the man’s left fist connects with Ben’s nose. He’s slightly dazed as he gets back to his feet and wipes at the blood. The amped up adrenaline coursing through his veins, mixed with the courage of the alcohol running hot through his body allows Ben to get the upper hand. He launches himself at the bloke, gutting him first with a switch-blade he had hidden in his jacket, lashing him with a few accurate punches, and then grabbing a bottle from a terrified witness and smashing it over the guy’s head, effectively knocking him unconscious as he hits the floor with a loud thud. In all the chaos two more blokes have made their way over to the scene and look ready to have a go.

“Come on then, who’s next, eh?” Ben spits the remaining blood in his mouth to the floor and eyeballs the two men, waving his knife around as if goading them to come at him. They seem to think better of it because, despite his size, Ben Mitchell is notoriously known for his savage nature, will use all the dirty tricks in the mobster’s handbook to win a fight, so they simply bow out and hold their hands up in surrender.

The blood pumps loudly in Ben’s ears; still riled up- even knowing he’s won this round he feels he could go another ten. A hand on his shoulder makes him tense up and without thinking he jabs a hard elbow to the person who’d dared to touch him while he’s in this state. He turns around sharply to square up to whoever it is, but what he finds is Callum, sprawled out on his ass, fingers dabbing at his bloodied lip. All the fight drains from Ben’s body as he realises what he’s done. He bends down to apologise to Callum.

“Callum- I’m sorry- I didn’t realise it was you-I didn’t mean-” he splutters nonsensically. But Callum silences him with a hand in the air and the rest of his sentence dies on his lips.

Ben watches helplessly as Callum stands to his feet and rubs his bloody hand down the front of his too-tight jeans. “Just go home, Ben. You’ve proved you’re still the big hard man on the Square, now just go.”

Ben looks at Callum like a puppy that’s just had its tail stepped on by a heavy boot. He holds Callum’s eyes for a second and when he doesn’t look back at him Ben bows his head and turns slowly to face the eyes of his punters.

“The fuck are you all standing around for? Get back to your evening- night’s still young innit. Next round’s on the house.” He signals for his bouncers to come over. When they arrive, he nods towards the unconscious man on the sticky floor at his feet. “Clean this mess up, will ya? I’m heading out.”

The music starts up again and Ben leaves without a second glance.

 ***

The car lot lighting hits his eyes too harshly and he winces. He switches the big light off and blindly walks over to his desk to turn the lamp on. He clenches his fists and slams them both down on the desk before swiping furiously at the neatly piled paperwork on his desk. They fall to the floor with a dull thump. He doesn’t hear the door open and close behind.

“Your bouncer friend said I’d find you here.” A soft voice from behind him says, startling him somewhat. He composes himself with a deep sigh before spinning around so that he’s casually leaning against the now empty desk.

“What are you doing here, Callum?” He asks, rubbing his hand over his eyes in frustration.

An elongated silence follows his question, which only puts Ben more on edge. He eventually looks up at Callum to see he’s pacing, hovering, clearly nervous about something. It intrigues him. It takes Callum a little while longer to figure out exactly what he wants to say. Ben can see the conflict on his face as he tries to wrap his head around a single thought. But he’s also weirdly tuned into every emotion that passes over Callum’s face. Confusion. Anger. Lust. Defiance. And finally, back to confusion.

“What was that earlier?” Callum blurts, “Back at the club? On the dance floor. Thought you hated me?” He finishes quickly as that pretty flush from earlier makes its way back onto Callum’s cheeks. He shuffles awkwardly against the hard surface beneath his feet and Ben finds he doesn’t hate it as much as he initially thought.

Ben pushes himself up off the desk and runs his hands through his hair.

“I do-“ he says a little too quickly to be necessarily true, so he stumbles to try and cover himself, “You’re insufferable. Uptight. Judgemental. You’re more gorgeous than you have any right to be, Callum. But you don’t half grind my gears.” Ben sways a little on the spot, thinking he’s done, when more words come spilling out of lips before he can stop them, “And the way you came swanning into my town, fresh as a daisy, sprouting your preconceived opinions about my life, thinking you know me. When really, you have no idea what kind of man I am. So yes, I do hate you.” His shoulders sag in relief; it feels as if a bizarre weight has been lifted.

Callum eyes him fondly, “Feel better now?”

“Yeah, actually,” Ben huffs, “I do, yeah.”

Callum’s smile widens as he contemplates his words for longer than Ben’s patience can handle when he finally looks back at him with a goofy ass grin on his stupid, beautiful face.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” he says, derailing Ben from the inside out.

“Really? That’s what you’re taking from what I just said?” Ben tries to laugh it off.

Callum shrugs and takes a step closer to him. The air between them shifts. A spark of electricity crackles dangerously between them as Callum refuses to loosen his gaze. Ben’s traitorous legs wobble beneath him as he backs himself into the edge of the desk. Callum breaks the tension by taking the last few steps in his direction, crowding him in. Ben’s breath hitches in the back of his throat. He tries to swallow through it, but he’s far too distracted by following the line of spit Callum trails along his bottom lip before the sinful tongue ducks back into his mouth.

“Well, seeing as we’re being honest with each other, I think it’s only fair that I tell you the truth.” He leans into Ben so that he’s only a whisper away, the breath hot against his open mouth, “I hate you too.” He dips his head away from Ben’s eager lips, much to his disappointment and ghosts his own against Ben’s pulse point, before leaving a soft peck on the skin.

“Hate the way you look at me.” A kiss to his exposed collarbone.

“Hate the way you strut around like you own the bloody world.” A kiss to the soft spot behind his ear.

“Hate the way you hide behind innuendos just to wind me up.” A kiss to his jawline.

“But mostly, I hate the way all of that stuff just makes me want you.” The last kiss he leaves he applies a little more pressure, sucking a dark mark into his neck. Ben whimpers into it, grabbing the back of Callum’s head to keep him latched on, who takes the hint and bites down harder on the soft skin. Once he’s apparently satisfied he’s left a good enough claim, he lets go of the flesh and licks over the bruise to soothe the ache. Ben gets a good grip on his hair and drags Callum’s head up.

“God, you’re insufferable.” He growls as he dives in, connecting their lips together in a heated kiss.

Their first.

It makes his head spin.

The taste of Callum on his tongue is better than he ever could have imagined. He tastes of copper and whiskey, must have necked a shot after the fiasco at the club, because Callum had only been drinking beer tonight, he notes hazily, sounding like a madman. But the delicate mix of Ben’s favourite whiskey on his tongue makes his thoughts heady. He laps at Callum’s taste like a man deprived, and pulls the most gorgeous little mewling noise from Callum’s lips. He congratulates himself on a job well done and works on bringing them out again. He’d kill a man just to hear those sounds on a loop.

The two stay locked in a tight embrace, mouths moving frantically against each other. Callum slides his tongue over Ben’s bottom lip as the kiss slows. He feels one of Callum’s hands rest lightly on his neck, not quite squeezing but with enough pressure that it causes Ben to arch his back involuntarily. It allows their crotches to rub together and they both let out groans of pleasure as they continue the familiar grinding motion they’d gotten real good at back at the club. Callum bites down hard on his bottom lip now, tugging it further into his mouth and slides both hands between them so that he can start working on Ben’s jeans. He pops the button with ease and lowers the zipper, and without a second’s warning he grips the head of his cock. The unexpected skin on skin shocks a desperate whine from him as he rips his mouth away from Callum’s. He throws his head back, baring his throat as Callum rolls his thumb over the overly sensitive tip.

They waste no more time in getting to the good stuff, Callum teases him a little longer with his thumb, pumping him up and down in long, luxurious strokes before he’s withdrawing his hand. Ben’s eyes roll back into his skull and he’s stunned momentarily at the loss of contact, but his confusion doesn’t last long. His pants are being dragged down his legs and he kicks them and his shoes off in one go. He shrugs out of his leather jacket and is about to go for his shirt when it’s ripped dramatically from his body by the strong hands of the man in front of him, buttons flying left and right. It makes him chuckle darkly. The show of power goes to his head, so to assert his dominance once more he grabs Callum back in for another quick peck before he’s pushing Callum’s head down, down, down. He sinks willingly to his knees, and the look of genuine need on his face sets Ben on fire.

There’s a moment of silent appreciation as Ben let’s himself take in the view, Callum Highway, fully clothed, on his knees, with a firm cock in his face.

Sadly, he’s not granted much of a reprieve because Callum seems to be getting quite impatient at the lack of movement, desperate for a taste. He licks the palm of his hand and uses the slick to slide it down the length of him once, twice, three times. Before Ben’s even had a chance to enjoy the friction, Callum’s hot breath hits him. He watches Callum wet his lips before wrapping them around the head and taking him expertly all the way down his throat.

Ben has to hold onto Callum’s head with both hands to support himself.  Lost in the feeling of Callum’s talented mouth swallowing him down with practised ease. He bobs his head up and down at a steady pace now, hollowing his cheeks to take him deeper each time. The man knows exactly what he’s doing. Ben sends a prayer- gesture of goodwill-whatever- to whoever it was that taught Callum to suck cock like this. It’s obscene, really, how well Callum seems to be able to work him into such a state with just his lips, tongue, and throat. Ben knows he’s not going to last long like this, needs to take back control, so he pulls Callum off with an indecent pop. Yet, all he can seem to utter the moment he’s free from Callum’s particular form of torture is the word ‘up’ on repeat. And like the obedient soldier that he once was (yes, he did his research, he’s no amateur), Callum follows his lead.

The idea of giving Callum exactly what he wants makes Ben feel strangely vulnerable. He needs to see Callum laid bare for his eyes, and his eyes only. It’s the only thing he thinks will help alleviate the nervous energy thrumming through him at the implication. It’s hard to feel in control when you’re stood completely naked, flaws on display for the world to see, whilst the man you’re with has every scrap of clothing still on his body, and yet- when Callum looks at him the way he is now he can’t help but feel powerful. But he still wants to level the playing field a little.

“Strip.” Ben orders.

And he does. Makes a little show of it too. Unbuttoning his shirt at a maddeningly leisurely pace, throwing it at Ben when he’s eventually done. He steps out of his jeans with a wink (blink, UGH) in his direction. And if that doesn’t infuriate Ben more. He knows Callum is taking his time on purpose, elongating their shared pleasure, but what he can’t seem to grasp is why. But Ben doesn’t dwell, waits it out like a respectable man would, knowing he’ll get his reward at the end of it all. And that reward comes in the form of a very well-endowed cock. Ben lets his eyes travel lazily over the exposed body in front of him, mapping him out, cataloguing every scar, every freckle, and every blemish- encase he never gets a chance like this again. He extends his hand out in front of him after he’s had his fill.

“Get back over here and fuck me.” Another order, another willing nod.

When they crash back into each other it doesn’t take long before Callum has him lifted up onto the desk and is slamming his back down against it. He’s now looming over him, snuggled perfectly between the v of his thighs.

The condoms and lube that Ben cleverly has stashed away for spontaneous moments like this are in his top desk drawer. They’re shoved into Callum’s eager hands. Callum eyes them both with a slightly raised brow and drops the condom onto the desk next to Ben’s head. He pops the lid of the lube and squeezes a generous amount on his fingers. He takes a step back and leans down to spread it around Ben’s awaiting rim. Wasting no time, he penetrates slowly at first with one long digit, watching Ben closely to make sure he can handle it. Ben would consider it sweet if he wasn’t so desperate for more. The second and third are inserted quickly enough and soon Ben is writhing on Callum’s fingers as they glide in and out of his body, he fucks down onto them and releases a slew of gratifying grunts on every upward curve.

“Fuck, Callum. I’m good to go. Get on with it- want to feel you.” He lets himself admit, way past the point of caring how eager he sounds.

The loss of Callum’s fingers as he withdraws is maddening. He feels empty, tries not to whine too loudly at being left so exposed. He turns his head to see Callum picking up the condom as he brings it to his lips. He tears the packet open with his teeth, spits it out and slides it on. Callum applies more lube to his now covered cock and shoves the bottle away. He tugs Ben closer to the edge of the desk and lines himself up to the already slick entrance. He looks down at him, asking silent permission. Ben holds his gaze, pupils blown wide, bottom lip stuck between his teeth, and nods.

That seems to be all the encouragement Callum needs as he slides inside, inch by devastating inch until he’s nestled all the way in. It’s a tight fit, one that Ben knew would be a struggle, but he breathes through it, soothed by the light circles Callum is rubbing on his hipbone. Callum holds his position to allow him to adjust to the stretch. But he soon gets impatient again and bends down like he wants a kiss. Ben’s legs fold even more into himself which presses Callum in deeper and he lets out a high-pitched noise that he’ll profusely deny if Callum ever brings it up.

However, Callum doesn’t appear to be faring any better than he is, but he does sense Ben’s discomfort at the new angle and moves to pull away, but that’s the last thing Ben wants. He wants him closer, so he pushes past the pain and drags Callum into a kiss so bruising it takes his breath away- distracting him from the burn. When they settle against each other, their kisses turn into heavy pants, and their foreheads press tightly together when Ben opens his eyes. He waits for Callum to open his baby blues before whispering his next order.

“Move.”

He thinks he hears the words so and tight in reply, as it muffles next to his ear. It makes him want to submit. But he’s suddenly hit with a jolt of electricity that runs through his entire body; it sizzles down his legs and curls his toes. Callum withdraws all the way out and then sharply thrusts back in. He angles it perfectly, reaching that sweet spot on the first few thrusts. It’s miraculous really, how perfectly they seem to move together to make this the most intense shag he’s ever had. Ben’s mind blanks out as Callum keeps hitting his prostate with pin-point accuracy, the initial pain he feels ebbs away and all he knows is utter bliss. Callum grabs his hips to steady himself after the overstimulation and then slams back in going deeper and deeper with each thrust.

“God, keep doing that.” Ben blurts without thinking, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back against the desk.                                                                                              

Ben doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on. His throat is scratchy and raw from overuse; the little uh uh uh sounds he produces only encourages Callum’s movements. The man’s got stamina. His hips eventually start to get choppy and stuttered as his breathing picks up next to Ben’s ear. Good, Ben thinks. He’s close then, and he wants Callum to get there when he does. Ben reaches between their sweat-slick bodies and starts pumping his cock in time to Callum’s thrusts, but Callum looks at him as he does it and swats his hand away, replacing it with his own.

“I’ve got ya.” Callum grunts, his voice hoarse from exertion.

And if that doesn’t send Ben’s brain into overdrive. He relinquishes control at last and let’s Callum take over. He lays there with his legs draped around Callum’s wide hips and moans low and long as he paints his own chest in pearls of white. He clenches around Callum in the come down and that pulls his orgasm from him almost immediately. He can feel Callum’s cock twitching as it releases into the condom. He suddenly has an armful of man as they both try to catch their breath. Ben drops his legs down and runs his hand through Callum’s hair, laying a soft kiss to the side of his head. It panics him how soft the gesture is and he stiffens. Callum lifts his head and looks down at him.

“You okay?” He mutters.

“Yeah, m’good. Just can’t breathe, y’know? There’s a naked bloke currently crushing my chest cavity.”

Callum laughs and fumbles awkwardly to get off him. He pulls out a little too harshly and they both groan simultaneously at the loss. Ben watches Callum take the condom off and ties it at the end. His eyebrows perk up as he chucks it into the bin behind him. It gives him the perfect opportunity to stare at Callum’s ass; he bites his lip to keep quiet as Callum bends down further to pick up his discarded jeans, pulling them on without the boxers he came in, he notes interestingly. The thought causes his spent cock to stir a little, but he pushes himself off the desk in search of his own clothes as a diversion.

They remain silent as they dress themselves. It should feel uncomfortable- he just let a man he hates fuck him relentlessly on his own bloody desk- and yet, Ben’s never felt more alive. He finishes before Callum does and watches him run his hand through his floppy hair- again, causing that traitorous stir in his lower regions. He clears his throat and looks away. He wants to say something, but feels like he doesn’t have the right words. Callum comes to his rescue.

“Ben Mitchell- will you go out with me?”

Ben gawks at him, not prepared for that at all, and just continues staring. He tilts his head, folds his arms over his chest- an automatic wall of defence- and draws the corner of his lip into his mouth. Callum waits for him to say words that just won’t come and then he laughs, out loud, and approaches Ben as if he’s approaching a skittish cat he’d just picked up from the shelter.

“Sorry, that came out a lot more blunt than it sounded in my head.” He says, placing his hand over Ben’s folded arms.

“I like you.” He says with nothing but honesty shining in his eyes. “And I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but I can’t get you out of my head, Ben. The moment you walked into the Vic on my first day I wanted ya. Felt like I’d found exactly what I’d been looking for. I was a fumbling mess when you introduced yourself. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t get my words out, shuffling around trying to avoid staring at you for too long- didn’t wanna look desperate, y’know? But my hands started shaking every time you or someone else caught me looking and I lost control of the glass. You know what happened next…haven’t let me live it down since.” He laughs, trailing off.

The ringing in Ben’s ears lessens as everything clicks into place: that first night in the pub, the shiftiness in Callum’s body language, the shuffling from one foot to the other, the awkward fumbling. Callum wanted him. He wasn’t trying to warn him off by throwing a drink in his face.

Ben feels like a right tosser.

“I was a prick to you that night.” He sighs.

“Yeah, you were. And every time after. But despite all that- it just made me want you more.” He shrugs. “I dunno, I’m a mess. But at least I’m an honest mess.”

“That’s why I like ya.” He whispers back, the most honest thing he’s said all night. Callum’s eyes snap up to meet his.

“Because I’m a mess?”

“No, because you’re sincere. You were never afraid to stand up to me. Drove me crazy, mind, but I can’t deny, it’s incredibly sexy.”

“Yeah?” Callum says; blush high on his cheeks again at the compliment, shy as ever, as if they hadn’t just fucked each other’s brains out all over his office desk not ten minutes ago.

“Yeah, very.” Ben confirms with a wink.

They stay silent as they enjoy just being in each other’s orbit for a little while longer, neither one wanting to break the peaceful rapport they’ve created between them. The soft stroking of Callum’s thumb on his hand soothes him and he can’t help but smile.

Callum is the first one to ease his way back into Ben’s headspace by breaking the silence.

“So, is that a yes?” He asks, and Ben raises his eyebrow, having completely forgotten the previous conversation, distracted by how good Callum smells this close up. “Will you go out with me?” Callum prompts further when he realises Ben can’t tell his head from his ass right now.

“Yeah, alright. Think I might need a bit more persuading though.” He says, with another cheeky wink as he leans in to kiss Callum. They melt into each other as easy as falling snow on a hot tongue.

But Ben’s head starts to haze over and he lifts his hand up to the cut he procured during the fight with the oaf back in the club. He winces the moment his fingers touch the damaged skin and Callum pulls back at the noise he makes into his mouth.

“You should really put some ice on that.” Callum says, gently raking his knuckles over the swelling on Ben’s cheekbone.

“You know what,” he says patting down his pockets condescendingly. “Must have left my pack of frozen peas in my other jeans.”

“Funny…” Callum rolls his eyes playfully. “What about a first aid kit? I could clean it out for you? Make sure it doesn’t get infected. Don’t know where that bloke’s been.”

“No, but you might have. I think I recall the words: he’s mine.”  Ben tilts his head in mock recollection.

Callum barks out an uncomfortable laugh, “Don’t remind me…”

A beat.

“Wait- hang on a minute, are you jealous?”

Ben scoffs, outwardly and a little too quickly. “What? No! Course not.”

Callum continues laughing, clearly not buying a goddamn thing he says. Ben pushes him away in a huff to walk around the desk and rummages through the drawer. He produces a simple first aid kit and waves it in Callum’s face.

“Oh, just shut up and be a good little nurse and tend to my wounds, yeah?”

The laughter slowly dies in Callum’s throat as he takes the kit from Ben.

“Sit.” He says.

“Yes sir.” Ben salutes mockingly as he gently hops up onto the table he’d previously occupied for much more enjoyable activities. When Callum steps between his open thighs Ben’s body reacts accordingly and Callum notices the shift.

“Really? Again?” He glances down at the obvious erection in Ben’s jeans.

Ben simply shrugs, not bothered in the slightest that Callum can see how insatiable he is.

“There’s a hot man between my legs. Can’t blame me for that.” In his distraction Ben fails to notice Callum opening a sterile wipe until he’s pressing it none too gently on the openly bloodied wound above his eyebrow.

“Ow!” Ben whines a little childishly, “Not so rough, yeah.”

“Thought you liked a bit of rough?” Callum quips back, a smirk firmly planted on his face.

“Oh shut up.”

“Make me.”

The sterile wipe is dropped unceremoniously to the floor as Ben dives in and their lips collide, exploring and hot as their heavy tongues fight it out in eager mouths. Callum is the one to pull back eventually. Though, Ben likes to see that he’s not entirely unaffected when he does, his pupils have blown wide and his kiss bitten lips are pulled between his teeth to try and stop himself from temptation.

“Stop distracting me, I need to get this cleaned up.” Callum scolds, opening another wipe.

“Fine, get on with it then.” Ben sighs dramatically, but a small smile appears on his lips as he awaits his final examination.

Callum cleans up the dried blood on his face and puts a plaster over it to wade off infection, as he so politely put it, and when he’s done Ben apologises for the cut lip he’d procured during the scene at the club.

“I didn’t know it was you.” He finishes lamely.

“I know. It was my own fault. Should’ve known better than to touch a man who’d just bottled a guy into unconsciousness.” Callum chuckles, though the words leave a rotten taste in Ben’s mouth.

“That’s not the kind of man I want to be, Callum. I’m sorry you had to see that.” He folds back into himself as the shame rushes down his spine.

“Hey!” Callum says, tilting his chin up so that he can look at him, “You don’t have to hide from me, Ben. I see you, remember.” He places a soft kiss on Ben’s forehead that initially triggers his fight or flight response, but the more Callum pushes forward, kissing his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, the fear wavers and Ben eventually lets himself be soothed by Callum’s compassion.

“You do see me,” he mutters against Callum’s lips, barely a whisper, “and it scares the shit out of me.”

He can already feel Callum’s response in the way he holds him tighter, hesitant and vulnerable, but sincere and true. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

And Ben realises before he even makes the decision, that he already trusts this man not to break his heart. He hopes it’s the right one.

 ***

 Their first date is surprisingly ordinary- but Ben doesn’t seem to mind. He’s content to sit and watch Callum beam back at him as he smashes his third strike in a row. Only sulks for a little bit after he loses spectacularly, and when Callum offers to buy him a drink as compensation his smile comes back in full force.

They make it to the club, not his club, but some fancy gay bar in London and they have the best night of their lives. They throw all caution to the wind and dance like no one’s watching. Their happiness pings off them in waves, and apparently it’s contagious, because they don’t pay for a single drink the entire night. Beautiful men, from all walks of life, keep sending them cocktail after cocktail- the frillier the better and they knock them back until they’re seeing stars.

They stumble back to Ben’s once lonely apartment complex and drown themselves in each other’s bodies; lips, limbs, and muscles, all working harmoniously to bring them both to their climax. They don’t last as long as their first time, because they’re both completely rat-arsed. But they have fun with it. Ben finishes first and then Callum pumps his final stroke and flops on top of Ben and promptly passes out. Ben smiles, strokes his man’s hair, and lets himself be vulnerable without the burdens of the past keeping him caged. He thinks a man could get used to this.

Overall, it’s been a pretty spectacular night.

Ben can see his entire future laid out before him when he looks at Callum. On the surface it scares the shit out of him. But secretly, it also delights him.

He thinks maybe he’s finally found the purpose his life has sorely been lacking; thinks quietly that he might have found the man of his dreams; thinks he wants to give up his dark world for him, take those final steps into the light.

Yeah, he’d give it all up for Callum Highway. For just a pinch of the happiness he felt tonight, he thinks it might all be worth it in the end. He falls asleep with arms full of a man he thinks he might one day fall madly in love with.

…thinks he might be halfway there already.

 ***

 The years fly by in a whirlwind of love.

They wake one fine, wintery morning securely entangled in one another beneath the sheets. Callum places lazy kisses over Ben’s chest to entice him out of sleep. He blinks open his bleary eyes and is greeted by a sleep-soft Callum watching him closely. His heart stutters and without much thought he drags Callum up his body to capture him in a silky lipped morning-breath kiss. He hums into it contentedly until Callum pulls back and then he whines, long and loud.

“Come back, wasn’t done kissing.” He grumbles with a low sleep-heavy voice.

But Callum laughs into his mouth, “Little Miss is going to be banging down our door if we don’t head down soon.” He replies with one final quick peck to Ben’s lips before hauling himself out of bed, leaving the duvet wide open so that the icy air trickles down Ben’s naked body.

Ben shudders at the cold and reluctantly gets up. He dresses in his favourite pair of jogging bottoms and tugs Callum’s oversized hoodie over his head.

“Don’t want our little princess turning into a fire-breathing dragon now, do we?”

They make their way downstairs where a little, overactive blonde girl waves at them from the living room.

“Fiiiiiiiiiinally!” She wails, shaking her fingers at the pair of them.

“Uh- excuse me, madam. Your dad and I were enjoying what little peace we could before you-” he scoops her up off the floor and swings her around. Delights at the excited squeal she lets out, “ya little rascal- could come in with your sass and ruin daddy’s beauty sleep.”

He plonks himself on the sofa with his baby girl still in his arms and snuggles his face in the back of her neck.

“Well, it didn’t work, did it daddy?” She giggles, and he can also hear Callum let out a snort from the kitchen.

“You hearing this, babe? My own daughter calling me ugly, me?! Cheeky mare.” He digs his thumbs into her ribs and tickles her as punishment. She thrashes about on his lap, trying desperately to stop him and scream-laughs her way out of the torture and onto the floor below.

At that precise moment Callum wanders back into the room and places three steaming cups of hot chocolate on the table in front of them; whipped cream, marshmallows, chocolate sauce- the whole shebang. Lexi pumps her tiny fist in the air and wraps her arms around Callum.

“Thank you, dad.” She says, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before settling down to pick at the spongy treats.

Ben can’t help the smile that lights up his face at the two of them. He never thought he’d be lucky enough to have something like this, and yet, here he is- basking in the joy of it all. The dopey smile is still permanently plastered on his when Callum snuggles in next to him on the sofa.

“You know I think you’re beautiful, babe.” He says as he leans in to kiss him, the glint from his wedding band catches Ben’s eye before he closes them to enjoy the warm lips of his husband’s against his own. The elongated ‘ewww’ heard from their daughter makes them pull apart with a laugh.

“Alright, alright sassy, enough out of you.” Ben continues laughing. He turns back to Callum and is overwhelmed by the love he sees reflected back at him.

“Merry Christmas, husband.” He whispers before kissing him again.

As they pull back, Callum smiles softly back at him. “Merry Christmas, husband.”

They both turn to look at their impatient daughter, who currently has a whipped cream moustache. They look back at each other and do a dramatic nod, gesturing toward their Christmas tree.

“Go on then, baby- let’s see what Santa brought you this year.”

The last thing Ben hears is the excited squeals of his little princess as she races towards the abundance of presents waiting for her under the tree.  

Who says a self-confessed bad man can’t find love, eh? Ben Mitchell-Highway is one of the lucky ones.

It’s when Ben turns and walks away, pint in his hand, that Callum speaks again. “You’re very welcome!” He shouts sarcastically, not caring one bit if people turn to look at them, watching their interaction. 

Ben turns back to face Callum, the natural scowl is starting to form on his face, furrowing his eyebrows as his eyes glare darkly at Callum. The pint glass in his hand is beginning to slip, the condensation of it leaking onto his hand, threatening to slide out of his grasp and onto the floor. Instead of starting an argument, he simply ignores Callum and sits down on his own. It’s not unusual for him to sit alone though. It’s not as if Ben’s a loner, because he’s certainly not. He’s actually quite popular, though his popularity mainly lies with his family, the ever expanding family tree seemingly taking over the majority of Walford. Despite that though, he’s often found sitting alone in the Queen Vic, keeping himself to himself.

The pub remains busy, possibly gaining more and more customers as time ticks by and people finish work. It gets to the point where people are standing up through different rounds, completely unable to get seats at any tables. Christmas music blares over the speakers, the same songs and rotation, and as more drinks are flowing, the louder people start to get.

Callum’s walking around the outside of the bar now, collecting all of the empty glasses and bottles, delicately throwing them into the box. He doesn’t particularly care if they get smashed or not, because Ben’s eyes have been on him all night now and he’s getting more and more fed up the longer his shift goes on. He’s collecting glasses in twos and sometimes even three at a time and he’s genuinely fearful that they’ll run out of clean glasses by the time for last orders rolls around. Some people move out of his way as he walks past them, though he still has to manoeuvre his way around most of the time. Either way, everyone makes way for him eventually, when they see the overflowing box in his left hand and his right still picking up glasses. Everyone, that is, except Ben, who’s walking towards the toilets. Ben, who deliberately goes out of his way to move closer and closer to Callum, just to get their shoulders to barge into one another. Callum completely ignores him though, thinking better of starting something that would probably end up in a brawl, knowing the rumours of Ben. Only two hours left of his shift. 

Ben eventually makes it back to his table, almost alone in his thoughts and that’s when Callum realises, if he was at all empathetic towards Ben Mitchell, he would think he looks almost sad, behind the stereotypical Mitchell mask he puts on. People are surrounding him now, maybe. His family, his friends. Yet he seems distant, like he’s not really following any of the conversations that surround him. He stands, holding his empty pint glass in his hands, streaks from the drink staining the inside of the glass. He puts it down on the bar, directly in front of Callum. “Same again.” He inquires, looking straight at Callum, and then back to the glass. Callum takes it, and refills it, passing it over to Ben without so much as a word.

Callum holds his hand out, waiting for the change to hit his hand. Ben takes the pint glass though, and lifts it to his mouth without paying. He raises his eyebrows, watching as Callum’s annoyance grows, bubbling away underneath the surface. He knows he’s got him then, hook, line and sinker. Ben pulls the glass away from his mouth, his face contorting and twisting in disgust. “That’s flat!” He exclaims, wiping at his mouth, though he’s really just trying to hide the smirk that’s threatening to form on his lips. 

People look around at them, intrigued by the continuous back and forth between them all night, some customers still around from their first initial exchange. Callum rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders as he steps forward, leaning against his side of the bar with a knowing smirk. He grabs the glass from Ben’s hand and lifts it to his mouth, taking a gulp himself. “Tastes fine to me mate.” He responds, narrowing his eyes to Ben, practically glaring at him.

Low chuckles erupt from the people around them, turning away to fall easily back into their own conversations. That infuriates Ben though, because he definitely does not like people laughing at him. Anger seeps through his body and the only thing he can think to do to get it all out is to lean over the bar and grab at Callum’s shirt, pulling them closer together. There’s a snarl on his face and he can hear the entire pub explode in jeers and cheers at the prospect of a fight. “If I say it’s flat.” Ben says venomously. “It’s flat.

He just about manages to get his words out, when shrill, loud whistles burst out from all different directions and suddenly neither of them really know what’s going on, except for the fact that the whole pub now seems to be staring at them. There’s a moment where there’s a silence of anticipation and trepidation and then an unrecognisable voice comes from the other side of the room, a loud “Go on then, kiss!” booms over them and suddenly everything just makes sense.

Ben looks up and sees the mistletoe hanging directly above them, and when he looks down at Callum again, his hold on Callum’s shirt loosens just a little bit, though it still remains as a bundle in his fist. He looks at Callum, and the tension between them is palpable. A grin grows on Callum’s face, knowing in his heart of hearts that there’s no chance of Ben even thinking about going there. 

Except. He does.

And it knocks Callum for six. 

Ben kisses Callum as if his life depends on it, all heat and passion and it’s fueled by hatred and annoyance and for some unknown reason - it’s the best kiss of Callum’s life. The scent of Ben’s aftershave is intoxicating and the touch of Ben’s lips against Callum’s is everything and more. Callum falls back, his feet firmly rooted to the ground in shock and he’s got a tingly sensation in his stomach, one that matches the tingling numbness of his lips. His eyes are still shut, trying to control his thoughts, and when he eventually manages to open them again, Ben’s nowhere to be seen. His cheeks are bright red and most people have reignited their own conversations, completely ignoring what’s just happened. It’s weird. Life goes on for everyone else, yet Callum just keeps replaying the kiss around and around in his mind, the feel of Ben’s lips still so prominent on his own.

He’s still thinking about it an hour or so later when he’s walking home, the street lamps lighting up his way, frost building in the darkness. Swirls of his breath are visible in front of him and his hands are numb from the cold. Snowflakes fall around him, creating a white sheet on the floor that his feet break up, creating an aimless pattern in the settling snow. He doesn’t think about his steps, just letting his feet guide his way, because his head is just full of Ben. Callum can’t stop thinking about Ben, Ben and his silly little smirk, Ben and his deep blue eyes that somehow changes from light to dark like the flick of a switch, Ben and how he kisses so perfectly, so mind blowingly.

He notices something when he gets closer to home though, someone sitting on Callum’s doorstep, face hidden in the darkness. It scares him for a moment, a chill falling down his spine, until he cautiously gets closer and realises who it actually is.

“Ben?” He calls out carefully, trying not to disturb him. 

Callum steps towards his house, standing barely metres away from Ben now. Ben looks up, and there’s a shy smile on his face, one that Callum’s certain he’s never seen before. He stands up, softly groaning at the crack of his knees and then steps to the side, allowing Callum to move closer to the door to unlock it. There’s a momentary pause when the lock on the door clicks open, Callum opening the door just the tiniest bit. It’s almost enough to make Ben walk away without another word spoken, but then Callum breaks the silence. “Coming in?” He asks quietly. 

Ben nods softly and steps inside after Callum.

“It’s freezing out there.” Callum says, taking his coat off and putting it on the coat stand in his hallway. “Do you want a hot chocolate? Or a tea? I think I’ve got some teabags somewhere.” 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Ben inquires, hooking his hands into his pockets as a way of trying to combat the awkwardness he’s feeling inside.

Callum chuckles and flicks the kettle on, even without an answer from Ben because he wants a hot chocolate himself. “Because I don’t hate you. I never have done. You just like to make my life completely difficult, but I’ve learnt to deal with that.” He explains, and for some reason, it feels nice to finally get this out in the open. They’re finally having a conversation, after so long of ignoring each other, after so long of never communicating. “Why are you here Ben? I thought it was you that hated me?” 

There’s silence between them for a moment as Ben sighs and takes in Callum’s words, playing them over and over in his mind as he tries to think of what to say. How can he admit he doesn’t hate Callum, but in fact he feels the complete opposite? In the end, he just decides to shrug by way of trying to explain. “Don’t know.” He says. “There’s just something about you, that makes me want to get to know you more. I don’t hate you Callum.”

Ben looks all shy when he finishes speaking. He doesn’t know where to stand or where to put his hands. Callum smiles, understanding Ben’s words to him, because he feels that exact way too. He feels the pull towards Ben, like a magnetic force is bringing them together. Callum walks forward, slowly, and Ben moves too, in time with Callum. His back reaches the wall, and suddenly there’s nowhere else to move. Callum’s cornering him, and Ben’s not at all mad about it. Callum towers above him, and Ben can’t help but watch him with intrigue and lust, all thoughts of trying to breathe normally long forgotten. There’s a blush on his cheeks, a redness that’s creeping up to the tips of his ears, gradually getting more and more flame like until his ears are bright red. Ben notices the freckles that litter his cheeks, right across the bridge of his nose, and his eyes - God, his eyes - they’ve got flecks of green mixing in so swimmingly with the blue, all bright and perfect and his long and fluttery eyelashes just add to it. 

Callum grins, and hooks his index finger under Ben’s chin, lifting his head up so that they’re both perfectly aligned together. He leans down and kisses him, soft and gentle and it really is perfect. Ben’s hands fly out of his pockets, letting his fingers grab at Callum’s waist, holding their bodies together, warmth against warmth. They kiss for longer this time, comfortable without the eyes of a million strangers watching them. Ben’s lips tingle at the pressure, but that leaves him begging for more. He pulls away for just a second, though they don’t entirely part, with their top lips still touching and their breaths hitting against one another. “Maybe it’ll be a good Christmas after all.” Ben comments, twirling Callum’s shirt around his fingers, finally touching Callum’s skin.