Please drag me into the night clubâs bathroom and shag me. Fuck me hard from behind and pull my hair, and when youâre ready to cum... push me down on my knees and make me suck your cock clean, then pull me up by my chin and smirk over my ruined face.
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sorry guys iâve been m.i.a. with second semester starting iâve been stressing with class and all that but i had this chapter for awhile now and i decided to finish it. also iâm trying to work on âwoundedâ the kylo ren series but i fell into a bit of a writers block for that one. .-. iâll work on it soon. but here is this roger taylor fic you can use ben hardyâs version of roger if you would like. :) thanks for reading.
 MICKEY
Waking up groggy you checked your alarm clock, 12:00 in the afternoon you have definitely seen worse you groaned as you got up from your bed.Â
You had always followed a very specific routine in all honestly it just made sense living on your own had definitely impacted you and your mental health so sticking to a routine made it feel like your life was always on track, when it certainly was not.Â
The first thing on your non-existent schedule was coffee, no matter the time you always needed some sort of caffeine when you are tight on cash it was tea at home, but when you were able and that was most of the time you went to a small coffee shop that was about a fifteen-minute walk from your studio apartment.Â
After doing the basic self-hygiene you grabbed your tote bag filled with your work stuff and started walking to the directions to Beachwood Cafe.
The walk is always quiet and calm, but it always gave you little bits and pieces into other peopleâs lives. Like the old lady watering her plants or the way, the housewife takes her toddler for a walk in his stroller. The sense of familiarity comforted you.Â
âHello there.âÂ
You whipped your head toward the direction of the voice, this was not part of the routine you had never seen this man before, his shoulder-length blonde hair and ridiculously blue eyes were unfamiliar yet comforting. He was confident yet nonchalant with his greeting.
âHello,â you said with a small smile he looked down at you smiling.
You continued to walk seeing Beachwood in the distance.
âWere you going to get a cuppa?â you nodded your head âThat is so crazy because so was I.â he picked up his pace so he can open the door for you.Â
You muttered a small thank you and walked in, Beachwood was a small but very popular coffeeshop the owner Dayla has became a very good friend of yours and always brightened up your day with a joke or two.
âMimi, how are you love?â she asked from behind the counter.
âIâm good Day how are you?â
âCanât complain if I say so myself.â she said grinning âLet me guess Caffe Latte and a pastry?â
âYes maâam, itâs late in the day you didnât run out of the pastries yet?â
âI just took out a fresh batch right now, I knew you were going to have a late start today.â God, you loved this woman.
You stepped aside to get your wallet from your bagÂ
âWhat would you like young man?â Dayla asked the man who walked in with you.
âIâll just get a cup of tea please, Oh! Iâll get her order as wellâ he said as he saw you handing money to Dayla.
âThatâs okay!â you said feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.
âPlease I insist.â He said practically throwing the money to pay for your order at Dayla.
âPlease let me-â
âMimi! he said he insists go sit down,â Dayla said looking at you wide-eyed.
You looked at both of them and walked to the seat you usually sat at and what a surprise the man came with you.
âDo you mind if I sit here?â he said motioning to the seat across from you.
âGo ahead,â you said
He sat down looking out the window and then back at you. âIâm sorry I realized I never introduced myself Iâm Roger Taylor.â he said extending his hand out to you, you grabbed it.
âIâm Mickey⊠well itâs not really Mickey but itâs just easier to pronounce.â Stupid you shouldâve just said Mickey.
âMay I ask what your real name is?â Roger said still holding your hand
âItâs Mikaela but Mickey is fine.â
âCan you say it one more time, I want to make sure I got it right.â he rubbed his thumb across your knuckles.
âUmm⊠yeah itâs pronounced Me as in me and you, Ki like eye but with a K in front of it and Yella like yell with an A after⊠That sounded really complicated actually you donât have to-â
âMikaela?â he said slowly looking up at you for confirmation.Â
âYeah!â your heart skipped a beat it is so nice hearing your name.
âNice to meet you Mikaelaâ he said as he brought your hand up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss on your knuckles.
Fuck.
Of course, at the exact same time as that happened, Dayla came with your drinks. She set your drink down smirking and left without saying another word.
âIs it safe to assume that you are not from here?â He asked while blowing on his tea before taking a small sip.
âYeah, you can say that. What gave it away.â You said smiling from your coffee cup
âYouâre just different from everyone not in a bad way either I like it. Where are you from.â
Oh god, I can die happy right now.
âWell, it's a bit of a long story.â
âI don't have anywhere to be.â He said his blues eyes burning into yours
Oh wow, he's so hot
âOh in that case. I was born in a small town in Spain. Spanish was my first language so thatâs why I talk funny.â
âI like the way you talk.â
He did not. Your face was definitely red.
âHow does a girl from Spain come to London?â
âUmmm sheer luck I suppose.â
âCan I ask you a question?â
âSureâ
âWas it hard learning another language?â
âLearning English was super difficult sometimes I feel like I dont know what Iâm saying, but English is my third language my second was Italian.â
âItalian? Where do you find the time to learn two extra languages?â He was genuinely in disbelief
âWell my mom was from Spain and my dad was from Italy so I just needed to know both and theyâre pretty similar to each other so it wasnât that hard.
âWhat do you do for fun?â
âWhat do I do for fun?â I repeated thinking hard
âYes, you obviously must have loads of friends.â
âWell⊠I do have friends, I just canât think of one at this second.â
This is embarrassing now he thinks Iâm a loser
âDonât worry I donât have many friends either but consider me as your friend Mickey.â
âWhat about you? What do you do for fun?â I need to change the subject oh my god.
âWell, Iâm in a rock band.â
âA rock band?!â You said a little too loudly
âWhat about me isnât rock and roll Mickey?â he said laughing
âNot in a bad way of course you donât seem like the type to be singing in front of a crowd,â I said shaking my headÂ
âWell, I suppose you got that right Iâm on the drums in the back so the audience canât really see me anyways.â
âIâm sorry Iâm not trying to make fun of you I just got caught off guard, does your band have a name?â
âSm- Queen,â he said shaking his head.
âI like the name Queen, are you playing soon I would like to see what Iâm missing out on.â
âWeâre actually recording our first album right now, the recording place is not too far from here about a block or two further down. So weâre going on a small break until weâre done with the album but I believe the next one is in three weeks.â
âIâll keep an eye out for it then.â You said sipping your coffee
âActually I was hoping to see you earlier than that.â
You immediately choked on your coffee, making a scene by coughing into your napkin.
âThat wasnât the response I had hoped for,â he said passing you his napkin so you can wipe your tears with.
âOh, Iâm so sorry I wasnât trying to be mean I just- well I would like to see you again as well.â
âReally?,â He said smiling, and you swear you could melt from his smile alone.
âYes, of course.â You smiled back.
He then prompted to drink his cup of tea until it was finished and left money on the table.
âGreat then Iâm going to leave before I can mess up this perfect first moment. By any chance do you have a pen on you?â
You shook your head yes and looked through your bag handing it to him.
âThis is my number, weâre recording until 6 today so anytime after that call me and Iâd love to talk to you more.â
You felt your head spinning with how fast he was talking and moving.
He plucked your hand up and gave you a small kiss on it again, he then walked to the door before saying.
âPromise me youâll call me,â he told you while he grabbed the door handle.
âI promise Iâll call you,â you said softly
âPerfect,â he said while he winked at you and then left.
He gave you one last look through the window and then left, once he was out of view Dayla came to the table.
âWho was that?â she said, collecting her tip that Roger left her.
âHis name is Roger. I met him today.â
âToday! Youâre joking.â
âI swear Dayla I met him minutes before coming here?â
âHe can be a psychopath! And here you are chatting with him after knowing him for 30 minutes.â
That stopped you.
âHe is not a psycho he was so nice and funny, and did you see how hot he is Day?â
âYeah well murderers can be funny and hot.â
âDo you really think heâs a murderer?â you asked in a exsperated way.
âNo, I was just kidding he is really hot and besides who would want to murder you?â Dayla said as she wiggled her eyebrows.
âWow that doesnât really make me feel better.â
She stood up grabbing Rogerâs empty cup âGirl you know I was just playing I say go for it and have fun, anyone would be lucky to have you.â she bumped your shoulder with her hip and left.
Your mind felt overwhelmed with all the excitement from today you even almost forgot that you had some work orders to do you tried to push Roger from your mind as you grabbed your journal and sketchbook from your bag. You looked back at your notes reading on what your client wanted: a floor-length gown but not something too flashy something to show off their arms and their cleavage. Perfect. You spent your time designing the gown having fun with it since you probably wouldnât have another gown piece for months. After finishing you went on to your smaller orders feeling yourself getting into the groove of things.
Looking up from your sketch you noticed how dark it got outside and how empty it now was in the cafe. You decided to call it a day, well that was until you go home, and then you would start making the gown. You noticed the clock when you were telling Dayla good night. 6:58 Damn time really flew by and then you remembered the number you had in your bag.
The walk home went by to fast your thoughts about what you would say to Roger once you called made you nervous to the point that your keys kept slipping from your hands as you were trying to open the door to your apartment.Â
You purposely threw your jacket on the phone hook so you didnât have to see it and went to the bathroom you looked at your appearance baggy jeans, an oversize t-shirt that you also slept in, hair a mess, and no makeup. You shook your head, no way Roger was being serious about you calling him he was so much more put together and out of your league completely. You could just imagine all the beautiful women that he has been with, no way you could compare. You sighed walking out the bathroom ready to get started on your order. You grabbed the different fabrics you needed for making the gown and when you went to grab your sketchbook Rogerâs number fell and slowly fluttered down to the floor like it was taunting you. You stared at the paper hard groaning when you opened it reading that he wrote âRoger <3â following his number. You did promise him you would callâŠ
Your heartbeat picked up when you approached the phone dialing each number slowly wishing a catastrophic event would happen and end the world so you didnât have to finish dialing. It didnât happen. You put the phone to your ear and hear the first ring, and then the second. This was stupid calling him in the first place you removed the phone from your ear and were half a second away from hanging up when you heard âHello?â
Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, youâre representing him in his divorce.
A/N: Okay so I didnât proofread the smutty part of this Iâm sorry but I get lazy, yâknow? I hope you still enjoy. Just ignore any typos lol
Warning(s): Smut in this chapter! Itâs romantic and stuff ;)
Part 1 Â Part 2 Â Part 3 Â Part 4 Â Part 5 Â Part 6 Â Part 7 Â Part 8Â Part 9
Part 10 here we go!!!
Your jaw dropped as you watched Roger walk up to the stand and take his oath. When had he agreed to testify? And for the defense? Was he really so desperate to have his say that he would undermine the whole case? You shot daggers at him with your eyes.
âMr. Taylor,â Glen began. âCan you tell us a bit about what your father was like?â
âObjection!â you interjected. âRelevance.â
Judge Walsh gave Glen an annoyed look.
âYouâll see what Iâm getting at, your honor,â he said.Â
âSpeed it up,â Judge Walsh instructed. âOr I will hold that objection sustained.â
Glen looked back at Roger.
âMr. Taylor, your father was an abusive man, was he not?â Glen asked.
âYeah, but I donât see what that has to do with Dominiqueâs case,â Roger returned, frowning.
âI think it could have everything to do with her case,â Glen retorted. âYou and your ex-wife, did you ever fight?â
âSure we did,â Roger said. âLike any other couple, we had our moments.â
âEver get physical?â Glen asked.
âWhat?!â Roger cried.
At the same time you stood up and repeated, âObjection! Move to strike!â
âOverruled,â Judge Walsh said emphatically. âCounsel, you canât object to questions only because you donât like them!â
âYour honor, I want it on record that I object to this witness, I object to this line of questioning, and I object to opposing counselâs being a complete and unmitigated ass!â
âCounsel!â he scolded, banging his gavel. âSit down and let Mr. Harrington finish! If you raise one more objection today I will hold you in contempt, do you understand me?â
Cheeks red with anger and hatred, you scowled at him. Bill forced you back to your seat. You folded your arms across your chest and once again glared at Roger, hoping he could feel the heat of your rage.
âTo answer your question,â Roger began again. âNo, any disagreements between Dominique and myself have always been resolved with words.â
âUntil you had to bring lawyers in,â Glen remarked.
âThatâs not fair,â Roger said. âWhen it comes to issues of money -â
âAnd the cheating?â Glen pointed out.
âI cheated,â Roger admitted. âDominique was faithful until that day she went on this date. But at that point, our marriage was effectively over.â
âYou didnât like that, did you?â Glen asked. âThe fact that she had a date?â
âWho would?â Roger replied. âIt was a pretty harsh reminder that my marriage was done.â
âDid it make you angry?â Glen pressed.
âYeah, a bit,â Roger said, rolling his eyes.
You squeezed yours shut. If the jury didnât think Roger was taking this seriously, it would look bad. You saw where this was going, and you knew it would only make him angrier.
âAngry enough to behave like the late Mr. Taylor?â Glen asked.
Roger stiffened. His jaw clenched. You could hardly look at him. You saw the hurt and fury slowly overtake his body. But he was remaining impressively calm. He took a deep breath and then looked icily at Glen.
âNo,â he said.
You could tell how much will power it was taking for him not to spit at Glen in that moment. You felt the same. Angry as you were with Roger for doing this, you hated Glen right now more than his client. He turned and looked at you, a slimy smile on his face.
âYour witness,â he said.
Bill looked at you questioningly. You composed yourself and nodded, letting him know you had this. You stood up.
âMr. Taylor, have you ever once put your hands on your wife or any woman?â
âNever,â he said.
âNo further questions.â
You sat back down.Â
After Rogerâs testimony, you were released for lunch. The trial would continue the following day. You and Bill stormed out of the courtroom, each on one side of Dominique. You didnât bother to wait for Roger, but he jogged up to you anyway. You retreated into a chamber down the corridor.
âI canât believe you!â you shouted at Roger as you slammed the door behind the group. âI told you yesterday that you arenât a relevant witness! Why would you agree to testify for the opposing side?!â
âI wanted an opportunity to stand up for Dom, I didnât know he was going to ask me all that!â Roger shot back.
âDo you realize what youâve done?!â you cried. âAll the jury needs is a little bit of doubt to find him not guilty, and youâve just given it to them!â
âOh, please, my alibi is totally secure,â he returned.
âWe wouldnât have to even worry about it if you didnât get your dumbass on that stand in the first place!â you almost shrieked, completely exasperated. âYouâve hurt us, Roger, you could at least be sorry for it!â
âYouâre the one who wouldnât let me testify on our side!â he yelled.Â
âBecause I was doing my job, you daft -â
âHEEEEEEY!â Bill bellowed, banging his fist on the table.
You and Roger looked at him.
âEverybody calm the fuck down,â Bill said. âThis was a setback, but we still have a strong case. What Glen did in there was a desperate, Hail Mary attempt to throw us off. We still have Dominiqueâs amazing testimony, Miss Thomasâs, and all the forensics. So both of you just relax, alright?â
You shot another harsh glare toward Roger and then took a seat. The shock of Rogerâs testimony left you winded, but you were also terrified. If the jury now had a doubt that Nick was the culprit behind the attack on Dominique, you knew Roger would never forgive himself.
Just then, Glen burst into the room.
âWhat the fuck was with that witness?â he demanded. âCalling me ugly? Are you just trying to make me look stupid?â
âHey, donât you come in here making demands like that after what you did!â you retorted, jumping to your feet again. âYou called Roger up just to try and frame him when you know that was rubbish!â
âGod, youâre sexy when youâre angry,â he replied, tone softening. âSure I canât convince you to ditch blondie and grab a drink with me?â
âAlright!â Roger intervened, stepping closer.
âWe are in the middle of a trial,â you said to Glen. âCould you act like a grown up?â
âBelieve me, after seeing your legs in that skirt, my thoughts are entirely adult,â he said. âI actually started to get jealous of blondie since he gets to put his face between those gorgeous thighs every night.â
You opened your mouth to tell him that heâd gone too far, but Roger lunged past you, going for Glen. You and Bill each grabbed one of Rogerâs arms, yanking him back.Â
âRoger!â you cried, incredulous.Â
âHe crossed a line!â Roger bellowed. He glared fiercely at Glen. âDonât you EVER talk about her like that!â
âHEY!â Bill interjected again. âRoger, settle down. Glen, get the fuck out.âÂ
âI still want to know about that witness,â Glen said.Â
âShe was the one who found Dominique, how could we not call her to the stand?â Bill argued. âLucy Thomas is just a cold bitch by nature, we canât help that.â
Roger was still glowering, breath heavy and chest heaving.Â
âAlright, Iâll go,â Glen. âBut Iâm not going to take any more of that nonsense.â
âOh, but you expect us to tolerate yours?â you retorted.Â
âY/N, thatâs enough, weâre not doing this,â Bill said.Â
âBloody ridiculous,â Glen muttered as he swept out of the room.Â
The door swung shut behind him. You rounded on Roger.Â
âWhatâs got into you?â you cried. âAre you trying to make this worse?â
âI was defending you!â he argued.Â
âOH MY GOD BOTH OF YOU SHUT IT!â Bill interrupted once again.Â
All eyes were on him.Â
âEmotions are running high right now,â he continued. âIâm going to get some lunch. Y/N, youâve got the rest of the day off. Roger, do whatever the hell you want.âÂ
You blinked. âYouâre sending me home?â
âYes,â he said. âYouâre riled up and snappish and frankly, I donât want to talk to you for the rest of the day.â
You flared up, offended, but he stopped you from speaking with a look. Then he turned to Dominique.Â
âDom, can I get you some lunch?â he offered.Â
âThrow in a drink, and Iâm there,â she said.
She took his arm and they left together. The door snapped closed once again and you looked at Roger.Â
âI appreciate you defending me, but after the argument he made in there, you canât act like that, Rog,â you said, as calmly as you could. Inside, your emotions were swirling around like a hurricane.Â
âWhat I did was human,â Roger replied, voice also steadying. âAll I want to do is defend the people I love.â
âWell, donât,â you said sharply.Â
âFine,â he snapped. âI wonât, then.â
From the look on his face, you knew youâd struck a nerve. Roger had never looked at you with so much disappointment and anger in his eyes. Not even during your worst fights. This was a new level. It made your heart sink. But when he went for the door, you didnât try to stop him. You watched him go, feeling like a bad lawyer and an even worse girlfriend.Â
You walked home from the courthouse. All your frustration was gone by the time you opened the door. You half hoped that Roger would be there and you could both apologize and make up. But he wasnât. Your flat was as empty as you felt. With a heavy sigh, you set down your work things and went to go change. Only, when you got to your bedroom, you had no energy to do so. You kicked off your shoes, flopped face down on your bed, and let out a sob. You cried yourself into a deep sleep.Â
You woke a couple hours later to a knock on your door. Brushing your fingers through your surely mussed up hair, you forced yourself from the bed and went to answer it. You knew who you hoped it was, but you couldnât be sure Roger would be standing there. You left things so tense.Â
To your shock and pleasure, it was him. He looked rather like a dog with his tail between his legs as you opened the door. You felt the same. You had behaved no better, in your opinion.Â
âHey,â he said awkwardly.Â
âHey,â you returned.Â
A beat passed.Â
âIâm so sorry,â you said in unison, and you both chuckled a little bit.Â
âCome inside,â you offered. âWe should talk.â
âDefinitely,â he agreed.Â
He came in and you went to the kitchen. You made some tea and handed it him a cup before sitting down across from him.Â
âIâm sorry I testified for them,â he said. âGlen called me and asked me if Iâd be willing to tell my side of the story. I had no idea he would go that direction.âÂ
âYou canât trust opposing counsel,â you said. âEspecially the likes of him.â
âBelieve me, Iâve learned my lesson,â he conceded. âThe last thing I want to do is hurt Dominiqueâs case, I justâŠâ
âI know you want to protect people, Rog,â you said, reaching over to take his hand. âThatâs your natural instinct. And I admire that about you. Few people are as selfless as you are. But you canât always be the one in the ring, okay?â
âI know,â he said. âAnd again, Iâm sorry.â
âI forgive you,â you returned. âAnd Iâm sorry too. I just got scared because Dom means a lot to me too and I donât want her to go through all this only to lose.â
âI get it, I feel the same way,â he said. âI think we both forgot ourselves today because we care so much.â
âI told you having me might backfire,â you joked.Â
He smiled. Another pause passed between you.Â
âAbout Glen,â he said. âIâm also sorry I exploded like that. But I wonât apologize for defending you, he -â
âNo, I agree he crossed a line today,â you cut across him. âThat was way too far. Especially since we havenâtâŠ.yâknowâŠâ
âI know,â he said. âAnd when he said that today...just talking about you like that - even him thinking of touching you - it made me absolutely mad with rage. Because that connection we had...even back in the day...it was practically sacred to me, Y/N. To hear him say that, and make a mockery of itâŠ.I just couldnât take it.â
You looked down to hide your blush. The sex was that meaningful to you as well, but you never thought he was so sentimental about it.Â
âDâyou remember when we used to?â he asked. âHow youâd look me in the eyes?â
You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. The memory made heat stir in the pit of your belly.Â
âYeah,â you said, finding the courage at last to look at him. âOf course I do.â
âNo one else has ever looked in my eyes, yâknow, during,â he said. âI felt like I couldâŠ.I dunno, see your soul or something. Iâve had sex with plenty of women. But Iâve only really made love to one.â
You were certain your cheeks were redder than cherries at this point.
âRoger, IâŠ.â you trailed off. âI donât know what to say. I had no idea it all meant so much to you. Especially with the way you left.â
He hung his head. âI know. But I hope you believe me.â
âI do,â you assured him. âI just wonder what made you think of all that?â
âGlenâs comments today were a part of it,â he said. âBut also, a few weeks ago, you said we couldnât because my divorce wasnât final. But, itâs final now, and Iâve been thinking about being with you ever since I signed that paper.â
Your blush impossibly deepened.Â
âPlus, seeing you in that courtroom is incredibly sexy,â he added with a laugh.Â
You laughed too, relaxing you a bit.Â
âIâve been thinking about it too,â you admitted. âIâm just nervous.â
âWhy?â he wondered. âBy my memory, we were very good.â
You smiled. âI think Iâm just afraid that if we try, then what we had before might not be there. And then what?â
âY/N, itâs gonna be there,â he said, squeezing your hand. âI love you and you love me. That passion is there. Which is especially clear after today.â He took a deep breath. âBut if youâre not ready, we can wait.â
You didnât reply right away. Honestly, seeing him leap to your defense the way he did had turned you on, though you didnât want to admit it. And every time he kissed you, you remembered how good it felt to go further with him. But your fear was real. What if it wasnât the same as it used to be? There was only one way to find out.Â
âRoger?â
âYes, love?â
âKiss me.â
He almost jumped out of his chair to come around the table to take you up in his arms. He lifted you to your feet and claimed your lips in a tender embrace. He moved slowly, giving you the opportunity to stop him if you wanted. But you wanted the opposite.Â
You opened your mouth against his, and he reacted immediately, slipping his tongue between your lips. The kiss was heavy with the pent up desire you had both been feeling. Your mind was fuzzy, like getting drunk, but you were acutely aware of his hands sliding up your sides. His thumbs brushed your ribcage, just barely touching the underside of your breasts.Â
You whimpered into his mouth and reached for the buttons of your blazer. He helped you shrug it off your shoulders and it fell to the floor. Beneath, you had just your plain white tank top and pencil skirt. He stopped kissing you to look over your body in the form fitting clothes. You saw the hungry look in his eyes and bit your lip.
Your lips already itched to feel his again. All of your skin was tingling with the desire for his touch. You watched him observe you, chest rising and falling with your deep, desperate breaths.Â
When he met your gaze again, you couldnât contain it anymore. You crashed upon him. Pressing into him to be as close as possible. His arms snaked around your waist to hold you there, his eagerness to be close as evident as yours. Then his hands made their way south and he gripped handfuls of your ass.Â
You gasped and let out a husky breath, pushing even further into him. He groaned and you felt his hardness pressing into your lower stomach. You stopped kissing him to catch your breath and reach for the buttons of his shirt.Â
âFuck that,â he panted, and he pulled it over his head while you giggled.Â
When his shirt had joined your jacket, you had your turn to admire him. You ran your fingers delicately down his torso. His skin was warm.Â
âI guess we should be matching,â you teased, and you tugged your tank top off as well.Â
Rogerâs eyes on you as you reached back and unclasped your bra had you reeling. That was what you missed about making love to him. No one else had ever desired you so passionately.
With your breasts free, he took direct action. He cupped one in each hand and squeezed gently, massaging them before tweaking each nipple between his fingers. Your head fell back with a groan as the sensation sent more heat straight to your core. He attached his lips to your neck, whispering into your skin.
âYouâre so fucking gorgeous, love. God, Iâve missed you.â
You whined in returned, arching your back toward him. He pulled you close again. The heat of his body sent a chill up your spine.
âWanna move to the bedroom, love?â he asked.
You nodded. He scooped you up and carried you in there as you giggled. You yelped with surprise when he tossed you on the bed and crawled up to join you. The next kisses were fervent and needy. You moaned again.
Rogerâs fingers moved down your front and nimbly popped the buttons of your skirt before tugging the zipper down. You did not wear panty hose. You liked the way your legs looked without them, and you knew you could distract an opposing male lawyer if need be. You played dirty too sometimes.
You pushed your thong down your legs as Roger worked off his jeans. He groaned at the sight of you bare before him, sprawled out and breathless from his kisses. You smirked at him with cat like playfulness as you sat up. You gently pulled the waistband of his boxers down, slowly, watching his face as you went. Beads of sweat formed at his hairline from your torturous pace.
âFuck, baby, I need you,â he sighed.
With a grin, you swiftly removed his boxers, and he kicked them off the bed. Then, you took hold of his hips, rubbing soft little circles into the slightly protruding bones. He hissed with anticipation.
Then, you gave him what he wanted. You licked a stripe up his cock. A loud groan came from his throat. You swirled your tongue around his tip before wrapping your lips around him and taking him down. He let out such a delicious moan your mouth watered around him.
You began with a slow pace. Dragging your mouth forward and back, teasing him. His short, eager breaths egged you on. You saw him trembling trying to maintain control, but after you hollowed out your cheeks and really sucked, his hips jerked forward. You almost gagged, but held back.
âSorry,â he choked out. âGod, it feels so good.â
He buried his fingers in your hair and pulled you off of him. That was typical. Roger preferred not to cum in your mouth, and he refused to finish before you had gotten one or two orgasms of your own. Usually more.
You licked your lips and looked expectantly at him. He took your shoulders and lay you back. Your legs fell open for him. He got onto his knees there, but didnât settle on top of you. Instead, he kissed you again. He teased your lips with his tongue, and you opened up. He explored your mouth, getting you all hot again, before pulling away.Â
He nipped and sucked along your jawbone and down the soft skin of your neck. He trailed across your collarbones, down your chest - briefly stopping to suck on each of your nipples - and then made his way down your stomach. He slowed down the closer he got to your pelvis. Roger was not an explorer trekking out into new territory. He was coming home. He recalled every sensitive spot on your body. What made you moan, sigh, and giggle. He exploited this knowledge to the full extent as he made his way down. It made your whole body light up with excitement and need. Finally, you whined impatiently and pushed your hips up.Â
With a cocky chuckle, he took his tongue to your folds. You gasped sharply as your back arched. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked lightly, just how you liked it.
âOh! Roger!â you cried, heels digging into the mattress.
He moaned into you, the vibrations sending an extra thrill all the way up your body. Youâd almost forgotten how extraordinarily well he used his tongue and mouth. He was zeroed in on your clit, making you writhe around as you released pathetic whimpers and soft cries of his name.
The pressure was building inside you as he worked your core with his mouth. Your voice raised several octaves and your legs quivered as you hurtled toward the sweet release. When you were on the cusp, he sank a finger into you. You groaned so deeply you felt him smile against you. He curled his finger toward himself, pushing on your g-spot with expert precision.Â
âRog - oh fuck!â you nearly sobbed.
He added a second finger, stretching you just slightly. Your walls clamped down around him as he drove you further toward the edge.
âPlease, please,â you begged, panting.
He sped up, knowing just what you needed. Between the flicks of his tongue and the thrusts of his fingers, you were there. Your legs stiffened, your back arched high off the bed, a scream tore from your throat as it hit you. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, and Roger did not relent as you began to come down, shaking with the sensation of it all.
He eased you down, slowing his pace before removing the contact. Your body quivered. He smiled, pleased with himself, and he crawled back over you again to help with the shivering. Hot as you were during, you were always cold after an orgasm, so he held you a moment.
You were panting too hard for him to kiss you properly, so he peppered your face and neck with pecks. When you giggled, he knew you were okay.
His hips settled between your thighs, and you gasped as his cock brushed your entrance. Then you moaned.
âReady for more, sweetheart?â he asked, running his finger along your jaw.
You nodded. âPlease, more.â
You didnât even worry about sounding pathetic. You could be anything with Roger - strong, weak, pathetic, needy, vulnerable, bitchy, sweet, sexy - all of it. Any side of yourself was accepted and loved by him.Â
He rested on his forearms, cupping your face between his hands, and he slid into you. It was like magic. He fit so perfectly inside you - with just enough stretch to make you whimper with need. You both took a moment to revel in being together again. Being completely united.Â
You locked eyes. You understood what he meant earlier. Your souls met behind your irises. You had never felt more connected to him. And from the soft look in his eyes, you knew he felt the same.
âI love you so much,â he sighed.
âI love you too,â you returned.
You turned your face and took his finger into your mouth, a weakness of his. His eyes fell closed and his hips rutted forward, deeper into you. You squeaked with surprise and then chuckled, moving to match him.
You fell easily into a rhythm together. It flowed as naturally as the tides. Roger filled you with each thrust, and you climbed slowly together back up to the edge. His name escaped your lips as he rocked into you. Delicate declarations of his love and your beauty swept off his breath. You didnât hear them, but you felt them.
He sped up and it was like coming out of a fog. Each snap of his hips shook you and you clutched onto his shoulders for dear life. Your moans rose in volume and octave as you found yourself clenching around him again.Â
âOh - Roger - Oh God -â
âIâm so close, baby,â he grunted. âPlease, one more for me.â
He removed his hand from its proximity to your face and slid it between your bodies, finding your clit as if it were magnetized. He rubbed tight, fast circles on it, and your vision began to blur.Â
The second one hit you harder and more suddenly. White exploded behind your eyes as your walls fluttered around his cock. Roger cried your name once more and spilled into you, slowing down his thrusts as you peaked together. You twitched against him as he guided you back down steadily. He slowed to a stop and watched you panting beneath him.
He inched himself out of you. You still winced at the feeling. Once he was able, he rolled off you and you crawled into his arms. You needed his warmth.
âMmm, Rog,â you hummed, pulling him closer.
âGood?â he asked.
âIncredible,â you replied.
âI donât wanna speak too soon, but I think weâve still got it,â he teased.
You smiled lazily. âWe do.â
âWhat do you need now, love?â
âSleep,â you said through a yawn.
He chuckled. âOf course you do.â
He kissed your forehead and you both drifted off. All worries about your relationship and the trial were forgotten. For now, you could just be.
tabseus said: Hi :) First of all, I really enjoy reading your fics! Could you maybe write one with ben hardy x reader where they are a couple and have some kind of fight because Ben overheard reader talking with her girls about hers and Benâs sex life. Although all the reader is saying is really positive, Ben does not want them to know about it. Could end with smut maybe :)?
(a/n: holy SHIT this only took me 5 years. this is the NYM spinoff piece, where it can be read as a separate piece, but Iâd really advise you go back and read NYM if you havenât!!! iâll link the previous parts below. this baby is almost 11k, so donât think youâre in for some light reading rn hehe. get ready for angsty ben and eventual makeup smut bc we all love a good makeup smut)
NYM Part 1 | NYM Part 2 | NYM Part 3 | NYM Part 4
"Yeah, breaker one-nine, this here's the Rubber Duck, you got a copy on me? Over."
"The fact that you have the Convoy theme song memorized so clearly is both impressive and troubling," you teased, letting go of the push-to-talk button and waiting for Joe's response as you sat the walkie talkie down on your counter, reaching up above your head to try and retrieve the bag of white cheddar popcorn. You'd stuffed it in the top of the cabinet after grocery shopping this morning, telling yourself you'd save it for a rainy day and not snack on it all the time.Â
Alas, your attempt to put it out-of-sight, out-of-mind had lasted less than 12 hours before you were scrambling to pull the bag down and devour it all in one go - Joe had just gotten back from an extended filming period and after napping the day away, he convinced you to come over and get fucked up on some shitty liquor while catching him up on the latest NYC happenings. The white cheddar popcorn craving had happened after the fact, as you were coming down from your brief buzz already - the liquor was shitty enough to keep you from drinking much, while Joe was more than happy to pick up your slack.
The walkie talkie remained silent, and you furrowed your eyebrows, pausing in your embarrassing struggle for the popcorn to snatch up the small black receiver and press the PTT button again. "Joey? You alive?"
More radio silence, then finally a crackling and a slurred response. "You didn't say over. Over."
Staring ahead at the cabinet for a moment, you slowly closed your eyes and started laughing, shaking your head. "You're a fucking dumbass. Over."
"Well, someone's a bitch. Over."
"Who is he calling a bitch?" Ben's quiet, gravelly voice suddenly appeared behind you, and you startled a bit as you whirled around to find a very heavy-lidded, scruffy-looking Ben standing there. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was just sleepy - but he'd also been over at Joe's getting white-girl wasted, and the rosiness of his cheeks betrayed that very fact as he shuffled forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and enveloping you in a warm hug that trapped you between the counter and him.
"I thought you were still over there, I was just going to be a second," you murmured, running your hand over the back of his unruly blonde hair and smoothing it down before letting your hand come to rest on the nape of his neck. He shook his head, mumbling something incoherent as he pressed his face into your neck, nuzzling it gently and making you smile. Such a baby. Taking a deep breath, you let out a long exhale before pressing a soft, quick kiss to the side of his head and murmuring, "He was calling me a bitch."
Humming in response, he blindly lifted a hand to reach for the walkie talkie, and when he'd clumsily stolen it from your grasp, he lifted his head just enough to speak into the receiver as he held the button down. His chin pressed into your shoulder as he talked, making you smile and turn to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. "Stop bullying my girlfriend or I'll come back over there and wallop you."
"You didn't say over either," Joe pointed out snarkily, and you rolled your eyes as Ben chuckled softly and resumed burying his face in your neck, sitting the walkie talkie down. Returning his hand to your back, his thumb ran light circles across your skin just under the hem of your shirt, making a sharp thrill run through your body due to your still-mildly intoxicated state.
As much as you wanted to stay there forever and mooch off of Ben's body heat, you remembered the white cheddar popcorn calling your name - so with some difficulty, you managed to start peeling Ben's arms off of you, giggling knowingly when he let out an unhappy groan. "Go back over there. I'll be back in a minute." Pulling away slowly, he didn't look too pleased and grumbled to himself as he shuffled off to Joe's again with his phone charger now in hand.Â
âLove you!â you called after him, which he reciprocated only after shooting you a playful glare over his shoulder. Grinning, you watched as he stepped out onto the balcony and blew you a kiss before flipping you off and disappearing around the corner with the smile.
"Um, Joe, you have fun with that, buddy," you hummed nervously, worry setting in as you decided you'd come back for the mug later - not that he'd give it back anyway, but you'd try. Joe was too busy cleaning up his mistake to pay attention to you already being halfway out the door, hurrying over just to find Ben sitting on the bar stool with his back to you, sipping coffee and appearing to be fine. Letting out a sigh of relief, you padded back into the kitchen where you picked up the now mostly empty kettle of coffee, feeling Ben's eyes on you as you poured yourself another mug.
It was quiet, still like last night, but there was an eerie quality to this silence that made a nearly-paralyzing chill trickle down your spine as you poured the last tiny bit of the coffee down the drain, starting to rinse it out. Ben made no attempt to speak even when you peeked over at him to see him very calmly watching you. He wasn't smiling, though, and there was a distant look in his eyes that you recognized immediately. He wasn't daydreaming, no sir.
Something had pissed him off royally - you'd seen this look before on rare occasions, and angry Ben was never a treat. He was a true Capricorn if you'd ever seen one, a calculated son of a bitch who could build up a wall within seconds and take days to bring it back down. If you called him out on one single minute flaw in his argument, he'd also obsess over it for hours, either bricking himself in and giving you the silent treatment or snapping immediately and trading in his cool rationale to show you a temper to be reckoned with; a force you'd never seen before. He was never violent - far from it, actually, but if you stirred the sleeping dragon, you were in for one hell of an argument.
There was never an argument you hadn't worked through, though, and you weren't about to lose that streak today. So, you turned around and leaned your hip against the counter, crossing your arms as you took a sip of the coffee. "What's up? Joe said you were on your way, what gives?"
Ben nodded, sitting down his mug and licking his lips before pressing them together and shrugging. "Changed my mind."
"What changed your mind?" you prodded, his body language telling you everything he wasn't saying as he crossed his arms in front of him and leaned over the counter, his shoulders hunching up a bit after he shrugged again. "Ben, come on, don't do this. What's bothering you? I'm not fucking dumb, you know, you're clearly upset about something."
"I never said you were dumb," he responded, and the calm, unwavering tone of voice infuriated you so much you lost your taste for the coffee, sitting your mug down on the counter as well and crossing your arms again.Â
"So are you just going to avoid my question? I really want to know what's upsetting you, bubs, I can't just sit here and guess until you say 'Oh, you got it! Clever girl.' You're acting like I microwaved your tea water, for Christâs sake!"
Ben scoffed, tracing a fingertip around the rim of his mug and shaking his head a bit as you heard the muffled sound of Joe's TV turning on just on the other side of the wall. Your phone vibrated from the counter next to Ben, but you couldn't bring yourself to walk over and go grab it as Ben's annoyingly nonchalant nature perplexed you. "Why do I have to be upset? Can't I just drink coffee in silence with my girlfriend?"
"Ben, I live with you, I know your 'looks' like the back of my hand. Can we please just talk about this?"
"Talk about what?" Tapping the screen of your phone, which had just locked automatically again, his eyes scanned through the notifications for a second before he smiled sardonically. "Ah, there it is. Yeah, let's talk about it. I get a text from Joe saying you forgot your phone, so I go to grab it and I get to see these beauties. 'I can't fucking get up from this chair, all I can think about is you pegging Ben, I barely slept.'" Leaning forward on his arms again, he gave you a bitter smile and propped his elbow up on the counter, resting his chin in his hand. "Fascinating stuff, really. Apparently, my girlfriend's pegged me and I wasn't even aware of it, and then she's gone and bragged about it to our best friend."
Laughing in disbelief, you tilted your head to the side and gave him an incredulous look. "Are you serious right now? You're just going to take that out of context and not even think for a second, 'Hey, maybe there's an explanation to why Joe's-"
"Why have you told Joe that you pegged me? You think it's funny? Where do you get off?"
"Excuse me?" you choked out incredulously, baffled that he'd even assume that you got a laugh out of this wildly-exaggerated situation as you crossed your arms around yourself, feeling unbearably small underneath his gaze. He was slowly simmering, a single vein in his forehead just barely protruding from the taut reddish skin on his forehead. But there was such a level-headed manner to him it drove you nuts, making you huff softly and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, then shake your head a few more times. "I can't believe this is happening right now, this is ridiculous."
"That's fucking rich, considering I'm the one who 'got pegged' and joked about in this situation." Ben's voice was venomous, even, and you shivered again at how easily he spit it back at you, unafraid of whatever he'd say next. "You like telling our friends that I take it in the arse? That really make you laugh, huh? Why are you lying to Joe about our sex life, which is supposed to be private-"
"Oh, don't fucking start with me about private sex lives!" you quickly retorted, cutting him off mid-sentence in an impulsive moment of rage. "I've heard you drunk and blabbering on to your fucking 'mates' back in London over the phone about us, don't even start with me!"Â
Oh. You'd done it now - calling him out on something insignificant was one thing, but accusing him of blatant hypocrisy? You could practically see the steam shooting out of his ears.
Something flashed in his eyes, and then he rocketed out of the stool he'd just previously been seated so still on. You followed him as he stormed down the hallway - he yelled over his shoulder as he went. "At least I don't tell my mates that I make you take it in the arse, yeah? Fuck you, Y/N. It's bloody different, especially when it's Joe and you've lied to him about something personal!"
"Will you just let me explain?" you called after him, exasperated and ready to pull your hair out as he threw open the door to the bedroom, stalking over to the bed before starting to pace in front of it. He looked caged as he walked back and forth, both of his hands running back through his hair in obvious frustration before he finally let out a loud groan and sat back on the bed, looking at you and trying to mask the anger he clearly felt right now with a forced apathetic expression.
"Okay, go on. I'm dying to hear how you'll talk your way out of this one."
Recoiling a bit at how unwilling he was to even hear your side of the story, you felt tears welling up in your eyes a bit but you blinked them away, refusing to let him win with such a biting comeback. "Seems like whatever I say, you're not going to care anyways. Is this even worth my time, explaining it to you?" He didn't have a response, and that irritated you even more, making you choke up a bit as you continued. "You're like this every time, Ben, you fucking get this idea of what happened in your head and you refuse to even accept the idea that maybe my side of the story is as valid as yours."
"What if I did do that?" He paused and let it sink in, as he was always the actor, and then he was on a roll again. "What if I accepted your side every time, and then you took advantage of that? I'm not a toy and I'm not here to be played with, or used for bragging rights when you're talking to your friends- our friends about our sex life, Y/N, I have feelings too! I'm allowed to feel this way too, and right now, I feel like you're just using me as a- fuck, I donât know, a talking point or something!"
As far as the validity of his feelings, he did have a point (as much as you hated to cede to that), but you still pressed your lips into a thin line and persisted, not letting the subject drop. "I'm not going to take advantage of you, Ben! Stop saying that! Not everyone is out to get you, especially not me, and I hate when you're like this, 'protecting yourself'. You think that by being mean to me, it will get your problems to go away so you can keep this wall between you and the issue, but I'm not going to let you shut me out again. You don't have to shut down every time something goes haywire, damn it!"
"I'm not shutting you out or being mean to you!" he yelled back, but you only scoffed and crossed your arms in disbelief.
"Then what are you doing?" Your question was warranted, and Ben found himself at a loss for words as he stared at you guardedly. The gears were turning in his head, and you could see from the confusion in his eyes that he was starting to question himself now.Â
"I- I'm just tryin' to-"
"To protect yourself, yeah, I get it!" you interrupted, Ben's jaw tightening as he snapped his mouth shut once again. The tension in his jaw remained unrelieved as you continued. "I get that you want to protect yourself, Ben, but you don't have to be so shitty to me for no reason when you do it! It's fucking mean and it hurts my feelings that you won't even let me explain myself!" That rendered him fully speechless, so you only let up for a moment before pressing one last time. "Can I explain now? Please."
Dead silence hung in the air for a moment as the gravity of your words weighed heavy on both of you, Ben's teeth grinding together for a moment as he considered the accusations against him. "Fine," he muttered, yielding to you despite the conflict still going on behind closed doors in his mind.Â
You could tell it was a raging dumpster fire in there as you approached the bed, tentatively, sitting next to him and wiping away the tears that had failed to escape from your eyes. Between awkward shifts and intermittent sniffles, you explained everything you'd talked to Joe about last night, from Joe's Virgo woes to his mistaken assumption about pegging, Ben, and you. By the end of your story, you'd tucked one leg underneath you and let the other dangle off of the edge of the bed, facing Ben with your hands in your lap despite the fact that they were itching to be running through his hair right now.Â
You wanted desperately to comfort him, but there wasn't much to be done as you finally quieted to let him process all of this new information, his gaze trained on his legs which were just barely crossed over each other at the ankle, one foot shaking back and forth anxiously. It drove you mad as you hyper-focused on it too, so anxious to know what he was thinking that you nearly didn't register when he uncrossed them. Your head lifted as he stood up off the bed and walked over to the other side of the room quickly, your anxious feelings multiplying when his back stayed turned to you and he came to rest in front of the dresser. However, you vowed not to let it be known how utterly freaked out you were at the moment, so you scooted back on the bed and sat criss-cross as you brought his pillow into your lap, needing something of comfort to latch on to.
It seemed like eons before he finally spoke, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, and his quiet, gentle words were like music to your ears. "So you didn't tell Joe you pegged me?"
"No," you almost laughed in relief, though the situation certainly didn't call for it, and you could see his shoulders relax a bit, though his back stayed turned to you. "I actually told him I never had - multiple times, if I'm not wrong."
"He was just joking?" he asked a bit louder, elaborating on his previous question, and you could feel the anxiety crumbling away as he turned to you with a genuinely relieved expression on his face. When you nodded, you could see an incredibly guilty look come over his face, and a little whine escaped your lips as you moved his pillow out of your lap and reached out for him. He gratefully obliged, climbing into bed with you, and you scooted over to make a bit more room as he practically laid on top of you, taking you down with him. "I'm such a dickhead, 'm sorry," was all he had to say, and that's all he had to do to make you start laughing before he began to pepper you with soft kisses anywhere he could.
It was hard to breathe as he smothered you in wordless attention, and it took several tries for you to communicate that between breathless laughter and attempts to wriggle out from underneath him before he got the message.Â
As he turned on his side and let you breathe again, you tried to make sense of what had just happened. So many questions swirled through your head. When had it clicked? Why were you letting this slide? Why was he so defensive about this? But no matter how long you stared at your boyfriend and tried to make sense of it all, it proved fruitless to try and pin down exactly where he had finally got off of his one-track madness.
So, you just smiled and saved that deconstruction for later. Right now, you wanted to savor the fact that things had been worked out, and you watched as Ben took your hand so he could kiss your knuckles, offering one more wordless apology with his eyes. His lips sent another thrill down your spine and you marveled at the effect he had on you even when you were both sober and incredibly sleep-worn. Despite him making you incredibly mad at moments, it was so hard not to love this man and everything about him. His green eyes flickered with an apprehensive yet curious look when you smiled widely, squeezing his hand.
âLove you, bubs.â A smile spread across his lips, and he kissed your knuckles once more before murmuring his response.
âLove you too. Thanks for calling me out on my shit.â Laughing, you played with his fingers and shook your head, debating your response for a minute. It was your job, after all, but sometimes it was hard, especially when he was a dick about it like today. But Ben seemed to read your mind, and he continued on, relieving you the responsibility of somehow starting another tiff. âI know I suck sometimes, but Iâm glad you and Joe can be mean right back to me if I need it. It makes it a lot easier to see when Iâm being a knobhead.â
"Speaking of Joe-â Ben groaned before you even got the second part of your sentence out, and you had to laugh at him before you continued. It was like he knew you were about to poke fun at him. âHe did say something about being surprised that you haven't smothered me yet," you teased, and Ben reluctantly took the bait, lacing his fingers into yours as he quirked an eyebrow curiously. "Yeah, no, he said something like 'How is he not the dominant one when he could just suffocate you with those muscles?' I think he has a crush on your muscles."Â
"First off, your Joe imitation is surprisingly poor for having lived next to him all these years," Ben joked right back, albeit in a soft voice. He seemed almost afraid of ticking you off at this point, but he had to roll his eyes when you gasped in mock offense. "Second of all, I'm not surprised that he wishes he could be this fit. And third off, I can be dominant, so I don't know what you were going on about with Joe."
"Are you serious?" you laughed, and his attempt at looking dead serious only made you laugh harder as you hid your face behind the hand that was intertwined in his. "Oh, fuck, you're pulling my leg right now! You have to be, right?"
The little noise of shock that he let out was genuine, and he moved your hand away from your face as he very obviously tried not to laugh at how hard you were laughing. "Why is it so hilarious? I can be dominant. I've been dominant with you loads of times."
"Name one!" you choked out between fits of giggles, and he furrowed his eyebrows as he fell silent at the prompt. 5 seconds, 10 seconds, and then 20 seconds passed with no answer, which made you laugh even harder. "See?"
"That doesn't mean that it can't happen!" he offered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, but you were still too distracted coming down off of the end of your incredulous laughing fit, so he just whined and gently pressed his lips to your jaw. His kisses were soft and quick as he tried to get your full, undivided attention so he could plead his case, but all that did was make you giggle again, so he laughed with you before rolling on top of you again, one of his legs resting between yours as he continued to trail kisses down to your neck.Â
His swollen bottom lip dragged over the skin as you snickered one more time, still amused at the thought of Ben genuinely thinking he wasn't the biggest baby when it came down to the wire, and you gave voice to your thoughts. He keened at the impression of your fingers running over his scalp and dragging through his hair, pausing in his kisses for just a moment when he finally heard you speak. "I hate to say it, but I have my doubts. Sue me."
You felt a quick puff of air hit your neck as he audibly scoffed, and then he resumed his kisses without any more delay. And really, you had to say that these kisses paired with his roaming hand that had just came to rest on your thigh - it was beginning to do something for you, so you let him continue as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. You could tell from the way his hips rolled against yours subtly that he was getting just as much from this as you were. When he finally pulled away just enough to look at you, for a second you saw Ben in his true form - all smiles and cosmetic charisma, but still just as rosy-cheeked and painfully unsuspecting as the day you'd met.Â
And he thought he was going to come out the one on top?
"As if," you murmured with a shit-eating grin, and then you pulled him into a kiss by the nape of his neck, his lips meeting yours with an eagerness only Ben could fail to contain. For a moment, he'd convinced himself that maybe he could be the one in control, but the way he submitted easily as you rolled on top of him, your thigh brushing up between his legs, said otherwise. You hand snuck up to his jaw, your thumb just casually resting on his chin and brushing over a hint of stubble - it was a subtle move, but nonetheless an effective reminder of who was in charge as it subconsciously prompted him to tilt his head forward eagerly and deepen the kiss.
Reaching down with your free hand, you just barely brushed your fingers over the front of his shorts before cupping him through the admittedly-scratchy fabric. His breathing hitched, and then he let out what sounded like the sweetest whimper you'd ever heard as he grinded up against your touch, already desperate for friction and just as predictable as he ever was. Smiling widely against his lips, you broke the kiss and moved your hand away so it was resting just below his navel instead.
He groaned unhappily against your lips at the loss, one of his hands finding your hip, and he murmured, "What? What?" as if he didn't want to think about how needy he'd been just moments ago. Letting out a soft laugh, you kissed him deeply once more and roped him right back in, moaning softly in unison with him when you straddled his hips and inadvertently grinded against his growing bulge,Â
Though it wasn't unwelcome by any means, you bit down on the inside of your cheek as your instincts coaxed you into rolling your hips lazily - suddenly, you were struggling to silence every blazing reminder in your head that you were trying to show him that you loved to love him and wanted to treat him like he deserved, and if that meant dominating the fuck out of him, then so be it! But it was too hard to ignore the desire beginning to course through your veins and cloud your judgment - before you knew it, you weren't only chasing that satisfaction of proving your point.
Taking his hand, you wordlessly moved it to the front of your pajama shorts and hummed in appreciation when he took the hint immediately, slipping his hand in between fabric and skin so he could rub circles into your clit. Moaning his name at the feeling, you could sense his pace quicken at bit at the positive reaction, and you rutted against his hand with a serene smile decorating your face.Â
"Fuck, this never gets old," you murmured, Ben letting out a grunt of agreement, and your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as he applied more pressure. Managing to pull your shirt off despite barely being able to focus on anything besides his fingers, you hummed in pleasure when you immediately felt Ben's mouth on your chest, kissing and sucking on every inch of skin he could reach. Meanwhile, he slid his fingers through your slick heat, eliciting quiet moans from both of you at how soaked you were.
All of your touches and actions became more fervent as things intensified, kisses getting sloppier, hands roaming even further, and clothes coming off in rapid succession until you were completely naked and yanking Ben's shorts to his ankles as you relished in the fact that he'd conveniently forgotten to wear boxers or even compression shorts underneath.Â
His cheeks were as flushed as ever, and he squirmed a bit impatiently, muscles shifting underneath his skin with each movement and making him look like a marble statue underneath the pale light filtering in from behind the curtains. Proving a point be damned, your boyfriend was hot - and he was very much putty in your hands.
Kneeling between his legs, you started to reach out to help him, but he was already there before you could, his hand stroking his cock as he ogled your body and let out short, sharp breaths. When your eyes met his and you raised an eyebrow in question, his hand slowed down almost automatically, his cock twitching in his grasp. The pure lust in his eyes paired with the uneven rise and fall of his chest evoked a visceral reaction, one that made you nearly bite down on your tongue as you fought back the instinctive urge to inhale sharply. Fuck, he was pretty.
"I couldn't help it," he admitted weakly, and the appreciation that flickered to life in your eyes only encouraged him as he offered a weak smile, getting himself off as you crawled back up to capture his lips in a quick kiss. Replacing his hand with yours, you continued to pleasure him slowly, each stroke setting off a tremble in his abdomen that betrayed everything you were doing to him despite how hard he was working not to moan into your mouth every other second.
"You sound so pretty when you moan like that, baby," you cooed as you straddled his hips, starting to grind down on him again, and he let out a slightly broken noise of delight at your praise while his hands found purchase on your hips. "You like that?"
"Yes, yes. Can't wait anymore. Need to fuck you, please," he begged in very obviously fragmented sentences. His head fell back against the pillows in a mixture of frustration and pleasure when you just grinned and traced a finger down the center of his chest, grinding down against him painfully slow.Â
"Then fuck me."
You felt a shiver run up your spine when Ben openly groaned, and you fought the urge to just keep rutting against him until one of you got off - as tempting as it was, you instead let him guide himself until the tip of his cock was pressing against your entrance. "Raw?" he asked incredulously as if he hadn't already done it multiple times before, and you nodded slowly as he began to groan and cover his face with his arm, his head sinking back into the pillow. "I'm going to fucking bust before I even get in," he lamented, muffled by his elbow, and you had to grin knowingly before you finally sank down onto him with a soft gasp, marveling as he filled you up slowly.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, that was good. You werenât sure if youâd said that out loud, but no matter how many times you slept together, it still felt like the first time every time you did it. He bottomed out with a loud groan as you rested your hands on his torso, pausing a moment to adjust. When you finally looked down, his eyes were screwed shut in a desperate attempt to keep himself away from the edge as long as he could.
"Baby, look at me," you whispered, and he peeked open an eye only to squeeze it shut as soon as he opened it. Letting out a small huff, he began to curse under his breath until you quieted him with a gentle hum and a quick kiss. "I love you."
"I love you so much," he choked out softly, his fingers digging into your hips as you started rolling them tentatively. Humming in euphoria, you finally began to ride him, and he helped as much as he could to guide your hips against his between sweet, yet sinful moans. The two of you moved in unison, pornographic sounds of skin on skin intertwining with mumbled curses and breathless moans.Â
At some point you couldn't discern in the chaos, Ben had started to meet your efforts in the middle and began thrusting up into you with a wild abandon. If your upstairs or downstairs neighbors hadn't woke yet, they were sure to have by that point - it was no holds barred as you both neared your climaxes, and nothing was off the table at that point.
"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" Ben gasped when you began to slow down and roll your hips more deliberately, his hips stuttering as he tried to stave off the inevitable. "Keep doing that, please, I'm so fucking close- Shit!" When you circled your hips a certain way, his cock brushed up against your walls at an angle that made your thighs nearly falter from the wave of pleasure it sent rolling through your body. Goosebumps broke out on your skin, and you cursed under your breath as you repeated the motion with a satisfied gasp.
"You that close, baby? You want to cum in me?" you asked breathily, the rhetorical question hanging in the air while Ben's fingers dug into your hips as he tried to meet you halfway with sloppy thrusts, his abdomen trembling with the effort. He looked close to tears as you took one of his hands and moved it to your chest, murmuring some breathless command to play with your tits.Â
Obliging eagerly, he watched with cloudy, lust-filled eyes as you reached down to rub your clit in rapid circles that matched your quickly-deteriorating pace. A fuzziness entered your vision as a combination of touch, sensation, and just the sight of Ben going slack-jawed in his efforts to consciously avoid a surely-close orgasm. "Just let go," you managed to moan out, and holy fuck, did he let out the prettiest sound. His voice cracked as he choked out something between a sob and a groan - it was a noise fit for a porn star, the feeling of him emptying inside of you only that much hotter coupled with the visual of his eyelids fluttering closed.
So overwhelmed with sensations, he could barely form a coherent thought as he came. His breaths came out in gasps, hips pressing flush to you as he spilled inside you. It was a mess, a hot one, and the sound that it made as he pulled out with a whimper was downright filthy, but you were too caught up in chasing your own high to think about anything other than the way the last drops of his cum were painting his stomach, his cock twitching as it finally gave way to the last of his orgasm.
"God- you're so fucking hot- I'm-" Ben was still struggling for complete sentences when you finally pressed hard on your clit and then you were coming, your head falling back in pure ecstasy as waves of relief crashed over you, cleansing your body of every curse word that came flying out of your mouth following your climax. Ben was there, and then his lips were on yours as you started to come down from the high, a messy kiss silencing any further sins you could have vocalized. His hands slid to your thighs again, and he didn't loosen his grip until you pulled away from the obscenely long kiss, both of you very out of breath and very content with what had just taken place.Â
After a chorus of ragged breathing from the both of you, you let a sly grin peek at the corner of your lips before you rolled off of him, silently cursing the fact that you'd be washing these sheets ASAP so the cum dripping out of you wouldn't irreversibly stain the fabric. A few tissues you snatched from the nightstand temporarily alleviated the situation, buying you enough time to pad over to the bathroom and grab a towel for the both of you. You could barely catch your breath as you did so, and you wondered if you were getting out of shape recently - the brief thought of going to the gym with Ben more often passed by, and you huffed as you reluctantly considered it.
When you returned and tossed the towel to Ben, who was still sprawled out on the bed and pushing a few stray hairs back out of his eyes, you had to smirk. "So what was that about you being dom-"
You didn't even get the chance to finish your sentence before Ben was laughing out an answer, catching the towel as he sat up to clean himself off. "Fuck right off, you're just gloating at this point."
"You're right," you teased, silently preening at your own sexual prowess as you cleaned yourself up and slipped on some old, oversized t-shirt, ignoring the sweat that gave your skin a light sheen. Looking over, you ogled shamelessly as he threw his legs over the edge of the bed, picking up a haphazard pair of shorts from the dirty laundry nearby. His muscles shifted underneath his skin with the effort, and you noted that he looked just as sweaty as you, causing you to let out an inward sigh of relief. Maybe you weren't as out of shape as you thought you were - the sex was just that good.
"Such a show-off," he mumbled, but you could hear the smile in his voice as you looked at yourself in the mirror to fix your hair, and it brought a proud smile to your own face. When you finally crawled back into bed with him, he'd pulled some shorts back on and stripped the dirtied sheets off, leaving just the comforter underneath the two of you. Snuggling up together, he rested his head on your tummy and gave it a gentle kiss as you felt his eyelashes flutter closed, the feather-like sensation against your skin coaxing a quiet giggle out of you. "What's so funny?" he asked curiously, though his voice was barely above a mumble, clearly exhausted from the events of the morning.
"Nothing," you answered honestly, running your hand back through his mussy, slightly-sweaty hair before grinning and back-tracking. "Actually, I was thinking about how fucking funny I was in the kitchen earlier. What would you do if I microwaved your tea water?"
Ben groaned at the thought, and you dissolved into a fit of giggles as he buried his face into your stomach, shaking his head slightly at your clear amusement with yourself. As you laughed, you could feel a small huff against your skin, and then he grumbled in response. "You're sick, y'know. Truly sick."
"I think someone's being a little dramatic," you teased, but Ben only scoffed once more before getting himself comfortable and dozing off into a peaceful mid-morning nap, the soothing warmth and methodical rise and fall of his chest eventually lulling you back to sleep as well. A final thought of 'God, I hope Joe had his TV loud enough' brought a mischievous smile to your face just before you were both out like a light.
-
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Which isnât to say that you werenât supposed to. Your assistant - Madelyn, such a darling - dropped a stack of papers on the table beside you while you ate breakfast and gave you a bright grin. You returned it with ease and picked up the page on the top of the pile, flipping through it and skimming it. Thatâs what youâre supposed to do. Read them all, pick apart those who applied, decide the best man for the job.
It was all a waste of time. They surely all had the qualifications to be your bodyguard, so what else would you need?
âI think heâs the best option,â Madelyn began, manicured nails flipping through the papers, reading the names on the front until she landed on the one she wanted. She pulled it out and placed it in front of you, right next to your eggs, and pushed it towards you. âI mean, I read them, of course. And he really seems like he knows his stuff. He used to be Kendall Jennerâs bodyguard, apparently.â
âWow,â you mused, setting down your fork and picking up the paper. Papers, actually - about ten, probably, stapled together. Extensive. Clearly. âBen Jones, huh? Good name.â
âHaving a good name shouldnât be a bonus.â Madelyn wagged a finger at you playfully and turned to leave. You picked up your orange juice, taking a sip as you pushed the papers away from you. âMake sure you look at them, alright? It is really important. I could stay and go over them with you, if youâd like.â
You set down your orange juice and shook your head. âNo, no. Iâll look through them, alright?â And then Madelyn left, shutting the door behind her, and you glared at all of the applications you were meant to sort through.
Such a waste of time. Chances are you wouldnât need a bodyguard, anyway. Youâd been doing fine without one. It was one stupid threat that made your security team think you needed someone - a big guy to look after you all the time. And now - all those guys who wanted to dedicate their lives to protecting you - surely theyâd all be satisfactory. It didnât really matter.
âI agree. He seems best,â you told her with a smile, and Madelyn gave you a bright one in return, grabbing the papers from your hand, and you hadnât expected to give it a second thought.
But - well, maybe you shouldâve read it. Youâd have seen that Kendall Jenner fired him because he was stoic, and cold, and downright emotionless. Perhaps that would have been the point where you set his application aside, opted for a candidate who had smiled once before in their life.
Too late for a change, you suppose.
 --
 Meeting Ben Jones is just short of a spiritual experience, and you wouldnât mind converting to a religion dedicated to worshipping him.
The truth is heâs beautiful. Youâre taken aback just by looking at him. All blonde hair and messy eyebrows - ones youâd, truthfully, love to fix up one day - and piercing green eyes. Nice lips, too. A lot of guys you go for donât have much going for them in the lip department so Ben is certainly a nice change.
He seems like the kind of guy to have nice teeth, as well.
You wouldnât know.
âItâs Ben, right?â you question, scrunching your eyebrows together in a way that youâve learned is sweetly endearing, as Madelyn once put it. You have barely five minutes before you have to get on the bus to begin your tour and youâre desperate for this experience to last every second you have. You hold your hand out for him to shake, looking up at him with a small smile.
He doesnât return it. His eyes meet yours and then they drop back to your hand, and he removes his from the pocket of his jacket to shake yours hesitantly. His palms are soft, nice, but Ben pulls away entirely too soon for your liking. âYeah,â he responds, voice low, and itâs barely directed at you. Moreso to the ground. âI know who you are.â
I hope, is what you want to say, but it does feel slightly asshole-y. And you just want him to look at you again, for just a moment. You clear your throat and drop your hand back to your side. âSo, uh âŠâ You canât think of much to say. And youâve barely been talking thirty seconds. âAnything you think I should know about you?â
Itâs so fucking lame. Youâre so fucking lame, you think, because Ben makes you feel like some sort of idiot. Like everything youâre saying is too stupid for him to grant you the pleasure of his eyes meeting yours again.
Surely it isnât intentional. After all, he seems like a good guy.
You wouldnât know.
âWell,â he begins, and you glance up hopefully. His eyes are still on the ground. âMy name is Ben. Iâm your bodyguard.â He stops and youâre still waiting for more, raising your eyebrows, but he just shrugs. âThatâs the extent of it.â
âNo fun facts at all?â
âWhy do you want to know?â
You shift uncomfortably. Suddenly all you want to do is get on your tour bus and end this encounter - or perhaps go back in time and read everyoneâs applications for someone with more personality than a fucking toilet seat. Youâd thought it dramatic of Kendall Jenner to fire a bodyguard for being stoic, but you can only imagine yourself growing tired of the wall-esque behavior soon. âWell, weâre going to be spending a lot of time together. Just thought we should get to know each other.â
And then he looks up at you, just as your manager yells out the window of the bus that you two have to get on now. âI think thatâs all the information you need about me, really,â Ben says, raising one eyebrow, and he turns to get on the bus before you can say anything else.
Watching him go is nearly embarrassing. The outline of a phone in his pocket, the thick black jacket, the combed back hair. Ben looks normal, really, like some guy youâd hook up with once and never talk to again. And he isnât. Heâs your bodyguard whoâs colder than an Alaskan winter, and you have to spend nearly every minute with him for four months.
Your manager yells for you to get on again. So you turn and climb onto the bus after him, heading right to your bed and collapsing in it with a characteristically dramatic huff.
The next four months stretches in front of you like a dark cloud.
After shows, Ben takes you back to your room and makes sure you get in okay. Youâre so exhausted you can hardly stand some nights, and he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you upright. He opens your door with his copy of your keys and then turns to leave, and he wouldnât say goodbye if you didnât call out to him just before he disappeared into the room next to yours.
Sometimes you donât notice it - just get inside, wash your face and collapse onto your bed. But sometimes youâre so pumped up on adrenaline that you canât help but notice every single thing he does.
Like how his grip on your waist is always oddly loose, only tightening the smallest bit when you could collapse.
Like how he shifts away from you when youâre driving back to the hotel and your head drops lazily onto his shoulder.
Like how he refrains from looking at you unless itâs necessary, as if doing so is some form of torture to him.
It hurts, a bit. Surely itâs more of a him problem but a tiny part of you had been hoping that - by now - youâd have managed to crack through this cold, stoic thing he has going for him. But itâs ⊠stronger than youâd thought.
You hate how angry and sad it makes you. If he was anyone else the two of you would probably be sleeping together by now, if youâre being truthful, and itâs not an idea that you hate to think about. He is beautiful but - well, that seems out of the picture.
And you still try. Too hard.
âBen,â you murmur, head resting against the back of your seat as the bus beneath you rumbles with motion. Youâve finished your thirteenth show of the tour and the going and going is starting to take a toll on you, but you knew what you signed up for, with this job. Work. And it is fun. Youâd never dare complain to anyone about it. âDonât you think I should have your phone number?â
Ben sighs. Itâs one of the few flickers of emotion you get from him - noises, mostly. âWhy do you need it?â
âIn case thereâs an emergency.â
âBut Iâm always with you. Itâs part of the job.â
You gnaw on your lip. Rain patters softly outside, and as the two of you fall into silence again itâs all you can think about. âBut what if something happens? I just think itâs useful.â
Thereâs another beat of silence. âI donât think thatâs appropriate.â
You sit yourself up, turning to look at him. The bus is mainly dark but you can see the shape of him, at least. A silhouette in the dark. âHow isnât it? Youâre supposed to be keeping me safe, you know. And if thereâs some sort of instance where Iâm not with you, having your phone number is important.â
âThis is a business relationship. If I do my job properly - and I do - you wonât be apart from me in any sort of situation where you would need my help.â
âBusiness relationships often require online communication.â You couldnât place your finger on why this is important to you. Other than feeling at least one step closer to having some resemblance of a friendship with him. Friends have each otherâs phone numbers. And, sure, he has about as much personality as a mannequin but you still feel slightly confident in your ability to break him open.
Ben throws his arm over the back of the seat, and you cross your arms over your chest. Neither of you can see each otherâs faces, but youâre sure youâre making the same expressions. âListen, sweetheart,â he begins, and your stomach turns at the nickname. âI have a feeling you arenât going to stop until my number is saved in your phone.â
You nod.
âItâs emergencies only,â Ben tells you, and you feel a rush of relief at having won him over. You turn and pat the seat for your phone, finally finding the device in the dark, and you turn it on before handing it to him. His fingers fly over the screen, and you lean your head over eagerly to see what heâs doing.
And then you roll your eyes. âBodyguard? Thatâs what youâre saving yourself as?â
âWell, thatâs what I am.â
You grab your phone from his hand and delete the word heâs written, replacing it with âben,â all lowercase. Youâd add an emoji but you know heâd hate that, so you go to save it and then stop.
âI need a contact picture,â you inform him, which is a complete lie. None of your friends even have contact pictures, but Ben has no way of knowing that.
âNo.â
âPlease?â
You tap open the camera and point it at his face, turning the flash on. You see his face briefly illuminated in the dark before the picture pops up on screen. His head is back against the seat, expression blank, eyes dull. Well, it certainly isnât - nice - but he does look attractive.
He always does. Thatâs the problem with him.
You point the phone towards him so he can see the picture, and then you ask, voice soft, âCanât I get one when youâre smiling?â
âNope.â
You didnât think so.
 --
 True to your word, Benâs number stays in your phone without use for nearly three weeks. You go on tour and explore the cities youâre performing in, and Ben is always with you. Of course he is - itâs his job - but it does make having his number utterly useless.
And that interaction remains just about the most youâve ever spoken. Itâs so goddamn irritating, a super sexy bodyguard who never smiles and rarely talks unless you plow through the conversation with the force of a bull, and you canât even text him.
Your phone lies on your chest, the alarm clock on the nightstand beside your hotel bed brightly announcing that the time is 12:46. And youâd gone to bed two hours ago, promising that youâd fall right asleep, but you hadnât. Had just pulled the covers up over you and washed your face and so youâd been lying for hours.
Thinking, mainly.
Youâd opened Benâs contact to send him a message so many times and you hadnât gone through with it. Fuck, itâs annoying. It is so annoying. Anyone else and youâd already have their affection in the back, having them kiss the ground you walk on, but youâre too nervous to even reach out to Ben.
Would he be mad if you text him?
Only one way to find out.
You open your phone again, typing in your password, and open a new message with him. Your fingers dance over the keyboard for a minute, contemplating what to write. What does someone write to their bodyguard they want desperately to bone - or, if not that, then at least be friendly with?
are you awake?
You send the stupid message before you can even think about it again. And itâs such a stupid one, too. You sound just about thirteen years old, giggling at a sleepover and texting the boy you like, nearly crying with nerves after sending the message. God, should you follow up? Surely he wonât reply and youâll see him tomorrow and heâll know that you, essentially, tried to hit him up, and itâll be even more awkward.
When you look down at the screen thereâs three bubbles, the indication that heâs typing, and you look across the room in the dark. On the other side of that wall - thatâs where Ben is. Thatâs where he read your message and where heâs replying.
Youâre so close.
Itâs unnerving, almost.
Benâs reply comes in in a moment. Whatâs wrong?
Your eyebrows furrow. Nothing, technically. But this is an emergency only phone number, you know, so surely he thinks something is wrong.
You contemplate what to say again, and then type out, iâm lonely.
Itâs the truth, anyway.
That doesnât sound like an emergency.
it is, i promise. Iâm very lonely and all of my friends are asleep because weâre halfway across the world.
Alright, then it doesnât sound like the kind of emergency Iâm trained for.
Heâs fucking right. What were you hoping to accomplish here? You donât know, and you donât know how to continue this conversation now. Itâs going to fall flat like so many of your other attempts. And you just want to delete the conversation, forget it happened, maybe take a pill to fall asleep.
Your phone vibrates with the incoming of another notification, and you look at it lazily.
Is there any way I can help?
yes, you type immediately, and then give yourself only a momentâs pause. whatâs your favourite color?
You send it and a grin spreads across your face, imagining Ben consciously deciding to double text, after not seeing you respond. Did he think he was harsh? Did he, perhaps, just want to text you again? No, surely itâs the former. But itâs still an improvement from you always initiating every interaction, and you can feel your heart pounding against your chest.
Ben replies within a minute. This is going to make you less lonely?
of course. having someone i know on tour would help.
But you do know me.
i know nothing about you, though
is telling me your favourite color too much of a task?
Itâs blue.
You push yourself to sit up against the headboard. In your side vision the alarm clock informs you that itâs 1 am, now, and you have no intention of putting your phone down as long as Ben is still replying.
You reply quickly, heart beating fast. a good choice. Iâve always liked blue. and yellow.
Yellowâs good, too.
Yes, it is. The color of flowers and the shine of the sun, and lemonade, your favourite drink. A color so associated with happiness, and that particular emotion is the one bubbling in the depths of your stomach. Ben talking to you feels like an accomplishment, almost, and the fact that this conversation is fairly normal is - wonderful. Really wonderful.
You realize youâre taking too long to respond. Thinking for only a moment about what to say, you type, you never seem like you like me very much. It seems bold and you backspace, deleting the last two words, and then you retype them.
Thereâs a pause. Itâs been three minutes since you replied and it isnât very much time at all, but you need to say something. So you send the text without giving it another moment of thought, and then you toss your phone in front of you, heart pounding frantically.
It seems like an eternity goes by before you see the dim light of your phone in the darkness. A new notification dazzling your screen. You hesitate before reaching and picking it up, and you open the message with your eyes squeezed shut and you donât open them until you think youâre ready to see the response.
I like you plenty.
Oh, for fuckâs sake. Itâs so plain. You were hoping for something more, for some explanation of why you rarely talk, of how you spend every single moment together and Ben hasnât even smiled. Every ounce of worry youâd had over that message drains away, and your fingers fly over the screen at lightning speed as you formulate your text.
you certainly donât seem like you do.
You stare at the screen defiantly until the three bubbles pop up, and then thereâs Benâs reply: Well, here I am saying it. I like you.
The words make your stomach turn. Even if you know the context.
thatâs good to know. i donât want this to be a one sided friendship, you know.
Iâm your bodyguard, not your friend.
why canât we have both?
Itâs 1:30 now and youâve never felt less tired in your life. The thrill of talking to Ben gives you an adrenaline rush like no other - a high that could never be obtained from a drug. And you just want to keep going and going.
Another response comes through, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the light grey text bubble. Lol.
Boring.
did you actually laugh, or are you lying?
Does it matter?
iâve always wondered if youâre capable of smiling.
I promise I am.
iâve never seen it.
Would it help if I told you Iâm smiling right now?
you could just be saying that.
Your eyes flit up to the wall again, looking through the darkness to where you know Ben is, texting you. Perhaps this is a normal thing to him but you wouldnât think so, not really. You rarely see him texting anyone, and youâve never seen him with a girl. Maybe heâs as into this as you are. Itâs hard to imagine but it makes you feel good.
Are you still lonely?
less so now.
Then I think you should be getting to bed. You have a show tomorrow and itâs late.
A glance over at the alarm clock confirms this. 1:42. Your show is at 9 tomorrow night but it is worth it to get some rest. After all, you donât have unlimited time to sleep in tomorrow.
Itâs nearly painful to type out your goodnight but you do it anyway. You want nothing less than to talk to him until the early hours of the morning, but you sent the fucking text and he responds with his own goodnight a moment later. You lie down and reach over to plug your phone in. The battery had been getting dangerously low during your conversation, and you can practically hear your iPhoneâs sigh of relief at being charged.
With your phone off everything seems so much drearier. New York is a bustling city but with your curtains drawn you canât see the buildings. All you can see is the darkness surrounding you, the dimming light of your alarm clock, and as you close your eyes to fall asleep - nothing at all.
 --
 Youâre the first person to say that youâre a little bit tipsy.
In fact, a little bit is an understatement, because youâre fairly positive youâre wasted. Your brain is swirling and the glass in your hand keeps looking so inviting, no matter how many times you get it refilled. Thereâs no real reason youâre celebrating, except to just fucking have fun in the middle of the tour, and god it really is fun.
And Ben is here. Thatâs always a bonus, especially how he accompanies you to the bar every time you want to get another drink, and he wraps his arm around your waist when the crowds of people gets too dense. His hand on your hip is ever so comforting, warmth even through your dress, and his thumb rubs circles into the fabric. Probably without him even noticing, because you doubt you would if you werenât hyper aware of every single fucking thing he does.
Your friends have left to go dance, because their bodies are too full of energy to sit in your booth at the very back of this nightclub. Ben chose it, actually, claiming that obscurity was your friend right now. Heâs certainly right. Being you and being in crowded places sometimes doesnât work out very nicely, but you typically donât dwell on it.
Especially not now. The other people in this club could be zombies, for all you care. All you notice is Ben. Blonde hair and white t shirt and jeans. Itâs more or less his unofficial uniform, but he looks so much better in it through your alcohol-hazy vision.
Not that he doesnât look positively spectacular in it everyday.
âBen,â you lean your head back so your mouth is closer to his ear, shifting in the booth. âIâd like to get another drink.â
He looks at you, and your faces are oddly close. Almost uncomfortably so, but neither of you move. âI think it might be time to cut you off, sweetheart.â Your eyebrows furrow together, and Ben sighs lightly. His breath is hot against your face. âYouâve had a lot.â
âAnd?â
âToo much.â
You cross your arms over your chest, and you - surprisingly - donât notice Benâs eyes flit to your cleavage. âHow wonderful I didnât ask you, then. Are you going to come with me?â
Ben drops his arm from the seat to over your shoulders, and your skin grows hot at his touch. âGive it a rest, Y/N. Youâre gonna be miserable tomorrow, and I have to spend every minute with you.â
âYou make it sound so horrible.â You slump down in your seat, eyes scanning Benâs face. His cheeks are pale pink and sweaty, and youâre sure youâre sporting the same damp look. âIs it so horrible?â
âOf course it isnât.â
âAm I more fun than Kendall Jenner?â
Ben laughs humorlessly but it still sends bells going off in your mind. Wedding ones, perhaps. You push yourself up more and examine the sight of it. The smile - small, admittedly - stretching across his face, the way his eyes crinkle. âYou look surprised at something, sweetheart,â he says.
âI didnât know you could smile, Benny.â
Your bodyguard cringes. âBen does just fine. And I told you I can smile. We had a conversation about this.â
You grin, reaching up to pinch his cheek. He removes his arm from your shoulder to swat away his hand and you hate the loss of his touch, but you manage. âI like Benny. Sâcute, you know.â
âI think nicknames have to have a mutual agreement involved.â you lean back against the booth, your body dangerously close to his, just on the verge of being pressed up against him. You suppose youâve been inching closer to him but - really - you hadnât meant to. It just happened. And now your thighs are nearly rubbing together. It feels good. Ben sighs and then adds, âI think we should get going. You look sleepy.â
He pulls himself out of the booth before you can protest, and you groan out. He canât hear it, surely, the music pulsing through the club acting as a cover up. âWait, Ben, but -â
âCome on.â He reaches down and takes your wrist, fingers gentle against your skin yet firm, and tugs you out of the booth. Then his arm is around your waist, tight, and you donât really mind leaving, suddenly. Especially with his pretty smile still stuck in your mind.
 --
 Your energy usually spikes after shows, but you donât think youâve ever been more exhausted.
For the last song you felt like you were on the verge of passing out, eyelids droopy and mind absent even with the screams from the audience and the thumping music in the venue. When youâve finished blowing kisses to the audience and yelling out your thank yous and finally headed backstage, you press your sweaty palm against the wall and blow out.
Steady. Steady. Steady.
Whenâs the last time youâve slept? Had a good rest? You canât remember the last time you went to sleep before 2. And you typically have to wake up at 7 and thatâs 5 hours of sleep, and how many articles has your mother sent you about how girls your age should be getting 8 hours of sleep a night? You never read them, but you absorbed the message.
Getting home will be great. Collapsing in the king bed in your hotel room, wrapping yourself in the cozy blankets, getting the rest of your life.
âCome on, Y/N.â a British accent draws you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see Ben standing just a foot or two behind you. Heâs holding your jacket, your thick sherpa one thatâs fuzzy and warm, and you grab it from him, pulling it on gratefully.. âYou donât look very good.â
âThanks,â you mutter, bringing an arm up to run your fingers through your tangled curls. God, what a mess. Brushing them will be a pain later, quite literally, but what else is new? âIâm fucking tired.â
âAh.â Ben takes a few steps toward you and snakes his arm around your waist, and you lean into his embrace ever so slightly. So slight you doubt heâd consider it to be intentional. âGo right to sleep when we get to the hotel, then.â
You nod lazily, feet moving of their own accord as Ben leads the pair of you to the door heading outside. The noises surrounding you - people chattering and yells still coming from outside in the venue - feel like a weight slamming into your scalp, and a headache forms almost immediately. You groan and push your head into Benâs side, forehead pressed against his cotton shirt, and the pace heâs walking the two of you slows slightly.
âIs this comfortable for you?â Ben questions, and you open an eye to look up at him. His brows are drawn, looking down at you with an expression resembling confusion, and you shrug. Your eyes squeeze shut as Ben reaches forward to open the door leading outside, and the crisp air hits you like a fucking wall. Itâs cold and goosebumps pop up all over your skin. Itâs oddly soothing, though, like an icepack on your brain for the dull pain pulsing through it, and Ben keeps walking you two out to where the bus is parked. âWhy havenât you been getting enough sleep?â
âJust been busy.â
âSleep comes before work, you know.â
âGod, Benny, you sound like my mom.â
Ben stops when youâre just in front of the door to the bus and spins you so youâre facing him. You raise your eyebrows expectantly at him. âYour mom is really smart, isnât she?â
You smile slightly. âExtremely.â
âThen Iâm taking that as a compliment. Come on.â He holds out an arm towards the open bus door, but instead of walking on you just cross your arms. âWhat?â
âYou arenât mad that I called you Benny?â
âIâve given up on making you stop, sweetheart.â
You fucking hate the way your heart swells at the sound of that. God, the nickname heâd given you a month ago makes your stomach turn in unpredictable ways now. Youâll never be able to hear the word the same again. âSo is this a free pass to call you Benny all the time?â
Ben shakes his head, and his lips briefly turn up. You still rarely get smiles out of him but sometimes you can see an inkling of one - like a ghost of the expression youâve seen once before. âDonât you dare. Itâs Ben to you.â
You take a step closer to him, wrapping your arms around yourself to preserve any bit of warmth you can. âI prefer Benny.â
âMutual agreement.â
âWho says?â
Youâre close to him, now, faces inches apart, and all you want is to close the tiny bit of distance between you. Press your lips to his because they look so soft, like he religiously uses chapstick, and youâre fairly certain he does if the cylinder shaped imprint in his back jean pocket gives you any clues but you really, really just want to kiss him. To see what heâll do. And youâre fairly certain heâll reciprocate because heâs making no fucking attempt to move away, and all you have to do is lean in a little bit.
A little little little bit.
Letâs hope this works out, you think, and then you do. You lean your head forward, pushing yourself onto your tippy toes, and then your lips are against his. His breath smells of mint and tastes of it too, slightly, and his lips are soft against yours. So soft, softer than yours, and youâre certain every romance novel has told you it should be the other way around.
Youâre supposed to have the soft lips, silly! But it feels so good.
âGod,â you murmur against his lips, and he tugs his mouth away from yours but you can tell he doesnât want to. Can practically feel his regret as soon as he does. âGod, that was good.â
He nods, the motion short, and then clears his throat. âWe should go. You need to sleep.â
Youâve nearly forgotten about your crippling exhaustion. In fact, the only thing you really want to do is sleep with him. But you relent. Ben has a way of doing that to you.
 --
 You barely get four hours of sleep when youâre awaken by harsh fists banging on the door to your room, and you shoot up in bed with the speed of a raging bullet.
The clock says itâs 5:12. You can recall a time youâve ever woken this early, and by - whateverâs going on. Knocking. Furious knocking.
You pull yourself out of bed and wrap your arms around yourself. Youâre in a sweatshirt, legs bare, and you regret the choice immensely for the goosebumps erupting all over your skin. You reach out and throw the door open as soon as you can, coming face to face with Ben, and even in what you assume to be a dire situation, you canât help your cheeks heating up. âBen? What -â
âWe need to go,â he says, and he pushes his way into your room, eyes scanning the mess youâd made in the past three days. âPack. Not everything, just stuff you need. We can come back for the other stuff.â
âWait, what?â your question falls on deaf ears as Ben reaches onto the ground and grabs your backpack, holding it out towards you. His expression - like usual, though you suppose youâd hoped that would change - holds little to no emotion and yet itâs worse than it usually is. âBen, what?â
âIâll explain later. Just pack your stuff, Y/N. Fast. Iâll help,â and he begins picking up random articles of clothing and shoving them into the bag. Youâd get mad about him wrinkling your clothes if you werenât so confused and - scared, a bit, because youâve never seen him like this. Ben looks up again after a moment and sees you standing there, watching him with your eyebrows furrowed together, and then exclaims, âCome on!â
You jump and then turn, leaving Ben to where heâs at and making your way to the bathroom. You grab your toothbrush and toothpaste and then a hairbrush, which is all thatâs on the counter and - you donât know where you put your deodorant or your hair products, not that Ben would probably consider those a necessity, but your mind is drawing to a complete blank, and you can still hear him moving around outside in your room.
âCome on, sweetheart. Iâm sorry. Iâll explain. Thereâs a - a car outside. Put that stuff in the bag.â You turn and Ben is at the door to the bathroom, holding open the bag heâd packed, and you absentmindedly drop your things into it. He swings it over his shoulder and reaches down to grab your arm, tugging you along and towards the front door.
You wrap your hand around his wrist, trying to pull him away. âWait, Ben, my - my phone. Shouldnât I -?â It seems like a necessity, to you. Something you should have if thereâs an emergency, and itâs beside your bed, charging.
âItâs better if you donât have it.â This isnât a sufficient answer, and it only makes you more scared, and only when Ben has pulled you into the hallway and towards the elevator that you realize youâre fucking naked from the waist down. Sure, you have panties on, but your legs and thighs are on display for everyone to see.
Youâve done photoshoots in less than this, really, but thereâs something - worse about it now. When the elevator lets you both out at the hotel lobby youâre uncomfortably aware of every single pair of eyes on you as Ben leads you both from the elevator. Instinctively you make your way to the front door of the hotel but Ben tugs on your arm, and he isnât going to the front door - heâs going to the back, you assume, based on the way he moves around the hallways towards the back of the hotel.
You canât fucking go out the front door? Worry works its way into every vein of your body and tears prickle your eyes. Youâve never been one for stress like this, and if Ben is panicked then you know you have absolutely every reason to be.
Bare feet pad against tile as you walk quickly to keep up with your bodyguardâs pace. With the way heâs holding you and pointedly not looking at you, any smooching that happened four hours ago seems utterly forgotten. And, truthfully, youâre barely thinking of it.
Ben pushes open the back door of the hotel, to a nearly empty street. The only sign of life is a black car parked, and you know itâs for you even before he leads you to it and opens the passenger side door for you to slide into.
Within ten minutes youâre on the road. Itâs only 5:23 and itâs odd to think that twenty minutes ago you were sleeping peacefully in your hotel bed, and now youâre - on the move. And Ben doesnât even look at you, and you wish he would. Just so you can feel even the tiniest inkling that things are okay, that something isnât wrong.
Youâre focusing on calming yourself down. You draw your legs up to your chest and rest your cheeks on your knees, breathing in and then out and in and out and iiiiiin and ooooout âŠ
âIâm sorry for - uh -â Ben doesnât seem like he knows where his apology is going. You turn your head to look at him and pointedly glare at the side of his face. His jaw is tight and his eyes are set on the road ahead of you, knuckles white on the steering wheel. âWell, Iâm sorry.â
âWhat the fuck is happening?â your voice cracks on the last syllable, and the tears that have been lurking behind your eyes keep threatening to boil over. âBen, whatâs going on?â
He pauses. âYou got a threat. Your security team thinks you should go to a safehouse. Your shows for the next two weeks have been cancelled. Maybe more will be, too.â
You ball your fists up. âSeriously?â He nods. âIâve gotten threats before, Ben. They havenât done this before. What was it?â
âIâm not supposed to tell you.â
âAre you fucking kidding me?â
Ben sighs. âI canât tell you. I would if I could but - I canât. Okay?â
One tear finally drips down your cheek, and you hastily bring your sweatshirt sleeve up to wipe it away. You donât want him to see it - the mix of sadness and anger and fear resulted in one single tear. You donât want him to know. âBen, please. Please, please. Iâm really - please.â
Perhaps you thought your pleading would break him down but you were terribly mistaken. âSweetheart, I would. I promise I would. Donât worry. Youâre safe now.â
âI donât care that Iâm safe now! What -â
âIf Iâm allowed to, I will.â you know thatâs the end of the conversation and you hate it. Hate how you have so little information, how your phone and all of your stuff is back at the hotel, how all you know is that thereâs a threat. And thereâs been a thousand threats - none have been treated like this.
It doesnât make sense.
You reach down next to your seat and adjust your seat so you can lie down, and you turn on your side, back facing Ben. He sighs again and then says, âDonât be mad at me for doing my job.â
âDonât you care about my wellbeing?â
âI think youâre doing better not knowing.â
You turn around and sit up quickly, nearly banging your head on the roof of the car. âWhat is that supposed to mean?â
âNothing you need to worry about.â
What a dick.
 --
 You wake up at 7:31 by Ben gently shaking you, and youâre so sore all over from sleeping in this stupid fucking car. Itâs unbearably uncomfortable, and your neck is aching, and your hips hurt.
And youâre immediately annoyed when you see Benâs stupid fucking face.
Youâre so pissed you could scream.
âWeâre here,â he says, and you sit up, opening the car door and climbing out of it without speaking to him. Silent treatment tends to suit you best in terms of holding grudges, and God, does he deserve it. Itâs still insane for you to imagine that just a day ago you were hopelessly in love with him - and you suppose you still are but all of that love is overshadowed by the mixture of negative emotions burning inside of you.
âSweetheart, donât be mad at me.â Ben appears at your side with your stupid backpack swung over his stupid shoulder. You cross your arms over your chest and look up at the safehouse, which is merely a regular house, though there arenât many others nearby - a spread out neighborhood. Itâs small, smaller than any house youâd lived in, and you scrunch up your nose at the sight of it.
It also looks - dirty, a bit. Ben grabs your arm and you tug it away, following him to the door. He brandishes a set of keys and opens it and you step inside first, looking around, and the interior is just about as appealing as the exterior.
Not at all.
âGod, this is the best they could do?â you hate how arrogant you sound but you donât care all that much. You look around the living room, connected to the kitchen, and then meet Benâs eyes with a glare. âLooks like itâll fall apart if I blow on it.â
âHaha,â Ben says, and thereâs not an ounce of humour behind it. âI didnât choose it. I donât know how good reception is or anything -â but then he pauses. You donât have your phone. Reception is meaningless to you, and you have positively nothing else to keep you occupied, because thereâs not even a fucking television. âWell.â
âCome on, Benny.â you use the nickname in hopes of softening him up. Maybe heâll remember what you two did last night - maybe itâll persuade him to tell you. âPlease. I was so scared, Benny. Please.â
Ben drops your bag on the ground and takes a step towards you, and then he reaches out and pulls you right into his arms. Itâs warm and soft and the best hug youâve ever gotten, and you hate the way you just about melt into it because you know very well this is just Benâs way of making up for the fact that he isnât going to tell you.
It fucking works, too. When he pulls away your anger at him is chipping away, and you resist the urge to smile with great difficulty.
Damn Ben. You hate how he does this to you, even now, because all you want is for him to hug you again. It made you feel quite a lot better.
 --
 At night, rain patters lightly on the roof of the house. Youâre in bed, covers pulled tight over your body, and it still does little to alleviate the brutal cold. The sheets are thin and scratchy, and your body feels like an icicle, and youâve been battling tears for the past hour.
Youâre so fucking frustrated. And youâd be on your way to Dallas today to prepare for a show tomorrow but instead youâre lying in the worst fucking safehouse youâve ever seen, and your poor fucking fans. God, it sucks so much and you donât even know why youâre here.
The mattress is hard beneath your back. Your hair is brushed but itâs already getting tangled again on the stupid pillowcase, and youâll be surprised if you donât leave this place with lice. And thatâs disgusting.
You havenât seen Ben since you finished dinner, which was just heated up pizza that was in the fridge - Ben promised it wasnât old but it certainly tasted like it was. You donât know where he is because you hadnât seen another bedroom, but if there had to be one bed you wouldnât let him share it with you, anyway, unless he told you the truth.
Which it doesnât seem like he will. Heâs so fucking loyal to his job, and for your bodyguard that should certainly be a good thing, but it just annoys you. You wish heâd be a little more lax with the rules heâs given. Your mind hasnât stopped racing since you had to leave.
You think about your friends and family, surely blowing your phone up with texts and calls. Does the general public know there was a threat? Do they know what kind? Does the public know what the threat is before you do?
You pull the covers off of yourself and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Your toes graze the cool floor and your legs are immediately freezing again. Ben had packed possibly the worst clothes he could have, the pants consisting of jeans, mainly, and one pair of fleece shorts. The ones you have on. And they may be fleece but they certainly arenât warm, and your legs burn with cold.
Would one say youâre being dramatic?
You donât really care.
You stand and stretch your arms above your head. The oversized sweatshirt youâd worn to bed rides up to expose the tops of your thighs and then falls back down when your arms drop, and you make your way out of your room and down the hall to the kitchen. Surely you can get a glass of water, assuming it isnât contaminated, and that certainly feels like a possibility. The kitchen is dark and you have no clue where the light switch is, so you run your hands along the wall until you find it, and you switch it on with an embarrassing amount of relief.
Light floods the kitchen and living room. You pad your way to the sink, shifting through cabinets to try and find a cup, any kind of cup, and just as you pick one up thereâs movement in your peripheral vision.
Oh, shit.
You whirl around to look at whoeverâs there, and the cup drops to the ground. Glass - you realize that as it shatters, and you jump back to avoid the shards of it from cutting into your feet before looking up at Ben with venom flashing through your eyes.
âWhat the hell?â
Ben sucks in breath and - ignoring your exclaim - says, âSit on the counter - Iâll clean this up.â
You obey. Your anger at him has risen considerably over the past 20 seconds but youâd rather submit to him than get a cut foot. Ben walks away and returns just a moment later with a broom, working at the pieces of glass on the floor, and you watch him without speaking for a moment.
But only for a moment. âYou scared me so fucking bad. Youâre doing that a lot lately, you know?â
He glances up at you, working the glass into a dustpan. âIâm sorry. I didnât know who you were.â
âI didnât either.â And youâre in silence again as he throws away the glass, and then he leans back against the counter, looking down at the ground.
All you wanted was water, but it doesnât seem as important anymore.
âWhere are you sleeping?â
Ben points to the living room and then drops his arm back to his side. âCouch. Itâs more comfortable than you imagine but the rain is ⊠loud.â
You laugh humorlessly. âMore comfortable than the bed, Iâm sure. Sâlike rock, really. I can feel my back getting worse by the minute.â
Youâre quiet again. You donât want to leave, really. Not go back to that shitty bed with the scratchy covers, even if your legs are freezing, practically crying out in protest as you stubbornly stay in the kitchen. Benâs thumb is in his mouth, nibbling on his nail, and youâd tell him to quit that because itâs a gross habit but you find you donât really care.
âThe threat wasnât just against you,â Ben speaks after a moment, and you turn to look at him. What? âI mean - it was. It was really, really harsh, but it was also about - your venues. So they didnât want you to know.â
âOh.â
Suddenly you wish you didnât. God, youâd been so mad at him for not telling you but it makes you fucking sick to know it. Youâd prefer it just be about you.
You say, âYouâre not going to tell me what it specifically said, right?â Because you donât want him to. Not anymore. And when he shakes his head no all you feel is relief.
âI donât know how long weâll be here. Not long, I assume.â Ben drums his fingers on the counter. âI hope. Itâs pretty bad, isnât it?â
âYeah. Boring and cold.â
âFreezing.â
You cross your arms over your chest, swinging your legs from where youâre perched on the counter, and then you sneak a look at Ben. âI felt pretty warm when you hugged me.â
He smiles. In the dim light you can see it, and your heart thumps in your chest. Second time. Youâd consider it impressive, really. âAre you asking me to hug you?â
âOnly if you want to.â You hold your arms out anyway, though, and Ben takes a step forward until you can wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his body close to you. His arms go around your waist, keeping you tight against him, and you rest your head on his shoulder.
Ben is such a good hugger.
His hand rubs circles into your back and his breathing is steady against your ear, and youâre sure your curls are tickling his face but he doesnât complain. You press your cheek to his shoulder, shutting your eyes and allowing yourself to just - be here, in the moment, in his arms, in this shitty safehouse where youâre freezing and tired and sore.
Heâs like a remedy for every single thing. How convenient.
After a moment Ben moves to pull away, but you brace your hands on the back of his neck and keep him anchored, just a few inches away from you. His hands go from your back to the cool countertop beside you, and internally youâre whining at the lack of his touch. âDonât move, Ben. Iâm still cold.â
Maybe his lips turn up into a grin but you canât really see - Ben presses a palm to the back of your head and then leans in, and then heâs kissing you, slow and sweet and soft, and youâre so surprised you can barely move because you hadnât thought this would ever really happen again, not now, but he initiated it and clearly he wants to do it and heâs moving his hands to your neck, wrapped around the back, and -
âIâm sorry.â
You hadnât realized you werenât reciprocating until Ben moves away with a quiet apology. Your lips tingle from the kiss and you bring a hand up to press your fingers against them.
Fuck.
âIâm sorry, sweetheart, this isnât the time.â Ben brings an arm up to run his fingers through his hair and you watch him with narrowed eyes as he turns to leave the kitchen, to go right back out to the living room, and you jump off the counter and practically bolt to stop him.
âNo, no, Ben. Donât. I want to.â You press your hands against his cheek, eyes meeting his, and you can practically feel his gaze tearing into your soul. As if looking to make sure youâre serious, that youâre okay with this, and itâs better treatment than youâve gotten from any other guy youâd been with.
Benâs tongue darts out to lick his lips, and you pull his face down towards yours, meshing your lips together once more, and itâs different from before but not any less good. He presses against your back and then moves his hand down to your ass, squeezing it through the fleece of your sleep shorts, and you whimper in surprise.
âDid you like that?â His voice has dropped an octave, it sounds like, and wetness pools at your core at the mere sound. You nod desperately. God, itâs so good, and you donât realize youâve been walking backwards until your legs hit the counter, and you pull yourself up onto it again. Your shorts have ridden up and thereâs more of your thighs exposed to the cold countertop, but it doesnât matter.
Ben situates himself between your open legs and you wrap them around his waist, pulling him closer to you, and then heâs kissing you again. Your hands move to his back, grasping at the thin cotton of his t shirt, and you pull it up ever so slightly and trace your fingers along the bit of his exposed back - so toned and warm, and he shivers when your nails graze his skin. You move your hands up his back, pulling his shirt up more, and then you break your lips apart and pull his shirt right off.
God heâs so fucking hot. This should be illegal, really, because youâve been spending so much time with him for so long and youâve never seen this. All ultra toned torso and muscles, and your cheeks heat up just at the sight.
âAw, sweetheart. Whatâs going on?â His voice is teasing and with more emotion than youâve heard before, and you look up at him with wide eyes, tightening your legs around his waist so heâs forced even closer to you.
âYouâre hot, Ben,â is your simple reply, and Ben chuckles before leaning in to kiss you again. More intense and more passionate, and you fall backwards a bit, bracing yourself on your elbows. Ben leans over you, gripping the end of your sweatshirt, and he pulls it away in one fluid motion. Your chest is bare and his eyes focus on your tits, mouth moving soundlessly, and you give him a small smile.
âGod,â he murmurs, resting his palm against your breast, and then he squeezes. You moan out and then heâs focusing on your nipple, rolling it between his fingers. It feels so good you could sob, and you bring your fingers up to run through his hair. Ben looks up at you with one raised eyebrow and then moves his head to your chest, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses against your chest. Your back arches into his mouth, squeezing tightly on his blonde strands, a choked up cry leaving your mouth as his teeth graze your nipple.
Godgodgodgodgod. Feels so fucking good you find it hard to even function. Heâs good at this, so good at this. Clearly heâs had a lot of practice, although admittedly youâve never seen him with a girl and that includes your Google deep dives to try and find information about him in the early stages of your relationship. Whatever. All you can focus on is him, now, working through his soft hair as he wraps his lips right around your nipple, cheeks hollowing as he sucks, and you groan out.
âGod, Ben. Fuck.â Itâs all you can say, though youâre fairly positive he gets the gist of your feelings about what heâs doing. You push yourself up and Ben moves off of you, looking at you with his eyebrows drawn. Perhaps heâs confused about why youâd push him away since youâve clearly been having such a good time but - âBen, I need you. Please.â
His lips upturn ever so slightly and you narrow your eyes at him. âAll in good time.â
âI donât want it in good time, I want it now, Ben, please.â
You pout your lips. Benâs head is mere inches from your chest, and when he breathes out heavily it tickles your breasts.
But then Ben says, âDonât be a brat, honey,â and you furrow your eyebrows. âI said all in good time. You get it -â his hands work at the tie of your sleep shorts, fingers undoing the knot, âwhen I say you can have it. Alright?â
No, you donât think itâs very alright, actually. You open your mouth to protest, to beg him for it, even, and be exactly the brat he told you not to be. His hand snakes up and presses against your mouth, and you huff. With his free hand he tugs down your shorts - the crotch area is damp, sticky with your arousal, and you see his lips nearly spread into a smile at the sight of it. He knows what heâs doing to you - how could he not? - and if anyone had told you, a month ago, that you would be naked beneath your bodyguard, youâd have sworn they hit their head.
Because no - this never really seemed like a possibility - not when Ben barely looked at you. And you certainly had been confident of your men seducing abilities before meeting him, and youâd accepted that you wouldnât win him over. Not in the four months of your tour, anyway. And now heâs here, and youâre naked and fucking freezing, and his lips are just a breath away from your -
Oh.
Theyâre not a breath away at all.
Ben leans in and attaches his lips to your clit, flicking his tongue against the sensitive nub, and you cry out louder than you ever have before. Your legs - over his shoulders, ankles crossed at the top of his back - shake desperately, thighs enclosed around his ears.
His eyes flit up to you, and theyâre so smug. Full of cockiness and all you want is to be full of him ⊠but âŠ
His tongue is extraordinary. Your hips buck into his mouth as he sucks at your clit and then he braces his hands over your hips, keeping you pressed right down onto the counter. Your eyes shut of their own accord and your breath is erratic no matter how much you try to keep it steady - godgodgod heâs so fucking good at this.
âEyes open.â Benâs voice is low and you obey him without a second though, gazing down upon him from his spot between your thighs. He isnât looking at you - his own eyes are shut, as if the pleasure of doing this to you is too much for him to keep them open - and he moves his mouth from your clit to ghost open mouthed kisses over your inner thighs before licking a thin stripe up your folds.
Your hips try to jerk up again but Ben keeps them pressed down, and when you look back down at him, your eyes meet. The knot that had been forming in your stomach begins to unravel - this is a record time orgasm for you and you wonder if he can sense that - your thighs clamped around his head, your skin warm against his ears. Your hand is in his hair and you squeeze on the strands, his locks so soft between your fingers, and cries are streaming from your mouth.
Ben is a constant chant coming off your lips.
You swear youâre a second away from toppling over the edge of your orgasm when he pulls away. His chin is slick with your juices and you sob out, a tear trickling down your cheek as you slowly start to come down from your denied pleasure - but itâs so bad, you hate him for this, you need to fucking - cum -
âPlease, please.â
Ben listens to your pleads for just a moment, resting his cheek against your inner thigh. He watches you catch your breath and then stands, and youâre on the verge of protesting, but then he grips the backs of your thighs - pulls you to the edge of the counter and then picks you up.
Total ease. What a turn on. Your legs hook around his waist and he wraps one arm around your back, pulling you as close to him as you can and then he kisses you, hard and fast and passionate, and you moan into his mouth.
You donât realize youâre walking - again - until Ben drops you onto an overly soft surface, and you nearly sink into the cushions of the old grey couch. Immediately you push yourself to sit, legs spread, assuming thatâs what Ben was going for - out of hope, you assume - but he gets on the couch himself, and you suppose he wonât bring you to cum with his mouth, then.
âYou sleep here?â you question offhandedly, watching as Ben situates himself so heâs lying down on the couch, knees bent so the entirety of him can fit. His flannel sweatpants are low on his hips and only get lower as he shifts until heâs in a good position. âComfortable.â
He hums. You smile at the sound, and Ben raises his head to look at you.
âCome here,â he tells you, and you must wear the confusion youâre feeling, because Ben adds, âI want you to sit on my face, sweetheart.â
Oh!
Oh.
Your face heats up - of all your sexual conquests, face sitting is something you havenât done. And you hadnât expected your first time to be with your bodyguard, of all people, but Ben raises an eyebrow expectantly and you stand, taking a few steps until youâre standing beside his head. He squeezes your thigh and it takes a moment - you clamber on top of him, your soaking heat just above his mouth, and you need to find a comfortable position but you barely have time before his mouth is attacking your sensitive clit.
Sensitive from his denial, from what heâd done to you before.
âFuck!â it barely comes out as more than a breath, and you lean forward to press your palms against Benâs stomach. His skin is cold and youâre sure yours is too, and the rain outside would be deafening if you werenât doing this.
You canât hear it. You couldnât even if you wanted to.
Ben sticks his tongue out and pushes it into you, and your arms give out - you fall forward, your chest pressed against his lower stomach, keeping yourself up with your forearms. Itâs so good, thatâs all you can think, as you roll your hips against his mouth - his mouth, so talented - and you groan out desperately as his nose nudges against your clit.
When you refocus on your surroundings, your vision becoming the slightest bit clearer, youâre entirely too aware of Benâs thick bulge beneath his sweatpants, right in front of you, and itâs so inviting it makes your mouth water. Could you -? Surely he wouldnât mind - why would he?
You worked at the tie of his sweatpants, hands shaking as your hips grind against his face, and when itâs finally undone you snake your hand down into his pants, grasping his length, and he groans out loudly against your core. The vibrations roll through your body and you moan yourself, tightening your grip on his member, and then you tug his pants down until you can see it.
Jesus.
Heâs big. Itâs all you can fucking think about, now, besides his lips around your clit, and you bring your hand to your mouth - spit into your palm - and begin jerking him off, slowly, still marveling at him.
Ben is thicker than he is long but he certainly isnât slacking in the latter. You swear youâve never been with anyone his size and you had thought you were beyond the old wondering if heâll fit inside of you act but clearly you arenât.
You arenât sure that he will.
You scoot forward a little, and Ben growls against you. You whimper, pumping your hand faster up and down his length, and then you lean your head in and lick a stripe up his shaft, following a thick purple vein that leads right to the tip.
âOh, fuck!â Benâs fingernails dig into your thighs, and youâre so close but suddenly you want to last longer - want to make him cum at the same time you do - and the only way to do that is to get the fuck going. So you wrap your lips around the tip of his dick, hollowing your cheeks as you suck on it, and suddenly the patter of the rain falls away as the room is filled with your noises.
The wet sounds coming from your cunt as Ben laps at it.
The cries youâre releasing every couple of seconds.
The grunts Ben chokes out when you work him just right.
Benâs hips buck up into your mouth and you gag around him, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock, and at the same time his teeth graze your clit and you canât hold it back.
Your climax is catastrophic, really, legs shaking and you pull your mouth off of him so your teeth donât hurt him and you cry out, rolling your hips desperately against his face and he canât hold you in place no matter how hard he tries, tries holding your hips down against his head but youâre unstoppable.
And the denial from earlier - or, if it can be called that - feels rather worth it because of this.
You drop your head onto his thigh, hand still loosely wrapped around the base of his cock, and you momentarily forget about your job until youâre nearly down from your high.
Instinctively you start pumping your hand again and you lean forward to lick at his tip when Ben groans out and buries his hand into your curls, tugging you back and away from his cock, and your hand drops away from him. You scoot down lower on his body until youâre straddling his lower stomach and then you turn so youâre facing him, admiring his face - lust overtaking his features - and he brings his hand up to your cheek, stroking your skin with the pad of his thumb.
âI donât want to cum in your mouth, sweetheart,â he murmurs, voice soft, and a chill runs up your back at his tone. That and - the chill of the house. Ben places his hand on your thigh and trails it nearer to your cunt until his fingers are ghosting over your folds, and with one fluid motion he pushes a finger inside of you. Thereâs not a single bit of resistance from your body, slickness making it entirely too easy for him, and you moan out. âI want to cum in here.â
Ben pushes himself up against the back of the couch, pressing his hands against your back, and you kiss him so fucking hard it almost hurts. Your taste is on his lips and you love it, love the mixture of the two of you, love how beautiful this all is. Love how this is all youâve been wanting, really, even if you never thought youâd get here - you wanted him, everything about him and it really does seem like youâve got him, now.
You reach down and take hold of his cock again, legs shaking as you position yourself right above him, lips still so close to his, and you sink down onto his achingly hard member after one deep breath.
A breath of confidence, and you needed it. He is big and it almost hurts - not quite but itâs almost there, almost - but the pleasure that quite literally fills you overpowers any ounce of pain you could feel. Ben drops his head back against the couch, moving his hands to your hips, rubbing your skin, and if heâs feeling half as good as you are then heâs in fucking heaven.
Based on his blissed out face, youâd think he is.
Your head drops to his shoulder and you swallow thickly, another tear forcing its way from your eye and down your cheek, and Benâs breathing is so heavy. You can feel him throbbing inside of you and you need a moment, you think, before you can move, but you wouldnât have it any other way.
The first movement is always the best. The whole first feeling of being filled is unbeatable and you donât have a dick but you could assume itâs the same for Ben. You need time to value this, now, and with any other guy youâd already be halfway to orgasm, bouncing up and down without a care in the world but this is so different. Different because - youâve wanted him for what seems like ages, because itâs taken so long to get to this point, because heâs Ben.
You lift yourself up, legs shaking near violently, and then drop back down. Benâs moan is nearly louder than yours, and you lean in to kiss him again as you keep moving.
Up and down.
Slow at first but you try to get faster. Your previous orgasm was - intense, to say the least - and your limbs feel weak, and youâre sure it wonât be long until you canât ride him anymore. When heâll have to take over.
For now, though, you focus on it. Rolling your hips and grinding into him, and bouncing up and down, and Ben helps you with his hands on your hips and on your waist, and his moans and cries are the perfect motivator to keep going.
âOh my god.â your voice is breathy, a cry breaking through the words like water through a dam. âGod, Ben. Oh, god, fuck.â
You rest your hands on his shoulders, leaning in again to kiss him, but youâre moving fast enough that itâs hard to land every kiss and so you end up with your lips pressed against his jawline. You want his touch everywhere - your waist and your ass and your tits and your clit - because wherever he touches it feels like electricity sparking through your body. Like lightning strikes.
âFeel so good and tight around me,â Ben grunts, and you could cum just from the words. âYouâre so wet, sweetheart, so - fucking - good. So good for me.â
(You still canât quite believe he wouldnât look at you a month ago.)
(Wouldnât even talk to you, really.)
(And heâs telling you how good your pussy is.)
âBen -â your legs are aching, muscles burning, and youâre afraid of the pace stuttering but you can hardly get the words out to tell him. You wrap your arms around his neck and use that as leverage to keep bouncing up and down.
Itâs hard. Ben notices your pace slowing and holds your hips down, forcing you to take all of him in, and then he pulls you off of him with one swift motion.
Fuck. The feeling of him leaving you is almost painful. You already miss his cock filling you up. Ben pushes you back onto the couch, and you sink into the cushions with a small grin as he presses his body on top of yours. You throw a leg over his waist, pulling him down, and then you lean up again, attaching your lips as he slides into you.
Kissing him is the greatest thing youâve done, really, soft lips and soft hair, and kissing him while riding him is positively spectacular, but kissing him while he fucks you is another story.
His hips are fast against yours, the pace near brutal, but you wouldnât have it any other way. Skin slaps against skin and Ben bites at your lip, swallowing every single sob that escapes your mouth, catching your tears with a finger beneath your eye. Your hand snakes between your body and rubs at your clit, two fingers against your swollen, sensitive nub, and itâs so intense.
Itâs all so intense. Benâs grunts are akin to that of angels and with every thrust he hits your g spot, and your fingers on your clit only add to the experience - and itâs even better when Ben rips your wrist from your cunt and replaces it with his own finger, rubbing tight, fast circles.
You wonât last.
You cum and itâs violent, legs thrashing, body arching upwards. Your eyes roll back into your head and pleasure rips through your body like a fucking earthquake, and Benâs still pumping in and out of you, and his fingers are relentless on your clit, and it fucking hurts almost.
âBen, no, no.â You wrap your fingers around his wrist and pull it away with all of your strength - not much, with two orgasms behind you - and he braces his palm on the arm of the couch. Leaning down to kiss you once more, he pushes his hips into yours a few more times, pace slowing.
âGonna cum in you, sweetheart,â Ben murmurs. âWanted to do this for so long.â
That makes two of you.
He cums within another minute, spilling inside of you, and the warmth of his cum painting your walls could push you over the edge again - but youâre not sure you have another one in you. Benâs groans are loud and brash, rolling his hips slowly against yours until heâs finished, and then he collapses right back on top of you.
Your bodies are slick with sweat and entirely too warm, but with the stark cold contrast of the room you donât mind. Your leg around his waist, your arms on his neck, his head in your shoulder. Lips on your neck. Itâs all so perfect.
You lie in silence for a moment. You find you donât really need to speak, anyway. Not yet - the moment doesnât call for it but - you canât resist. âJust a business relationship, huh?â
Ben sighs, and his breath cools your neck. âBusiness and pleasure, I think. To quote this really amazing woman I know - why canât we have both?â
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before the beginning of time, it is believed that whomever created love was a lonely man, who was denied of love and lust for his entire existence, so he swore to the heavens that no one would be denied the chance to feel love; and thus the soulmates were created. Everyone when they are born, are born with an imprint of what researchers have concluded to be; song lyrics. Joe Mazzello was born with the words, âsomebody to love.â imprinted on his skin, but well into his 30âČs, still has not found the person with the matching lyrics.          inspired by
       somebody to love ; queenÂ
paring : fem!reader x joe mazzello
   warnings -
this is all fiction, and just a story. swearing, mentions of dead loved ones, a little angsty.
a/n | hi! Got this idea at work, Itâs gonna be a fic because I really loved the idea and tbh I need something to dedicate some of my depressing time to. Anyway, this is all fiction and I hope you enjoy. Please comment for a part two! Also this will be in both perspectives but mostly Joe for now.|
                           Chapter One ;Â
âEach morning I get up I die a little. Can barely stand on my feet;Â Take a look in the mirror and cry;Â Lord what you're doing to me.â
-
â Joseph! Youâre wanted on set!â Joe sighed at the calling of his name, almost cursing Dexter in his mind. Today was not going well for Joe. They were halfway through filming at this point, and Joe was tired beyond belief. Rami and the guys had insisted on going clubbing the night before, Joe reluctantly said yes to his friends; so here he was, hungover and on set in his fluffy wig, attempting to focus on his lines in the makeup chair.Â
â Long Night?â y/n, his makeup artist asked. Joe gave a dry laugh, â I guess you could say that.â He got up, excusing himself from, y/n. Though it wasnât just his hangover that was bothering him, no, there was something else.
You see, Joe was going through a revelation, he had just turned 34 during filming, and his golden years were continuing to slip away from him. The chances of having kids got slimmer, and the chances of finding his soulmate became less and less.Â
The story of the soulmates is that of mystery, but it is said that before the beginning of time, whomever created love was a lonely man, who was denied of love and lust for his entire existence, so he swore to the heavens that no one would be denied the chance to feel love; and thus the soulmates were created. No one knows exactly why or even how it works, but researchers have come to the conclusion that the words imprinted on your body, that connect you to your soulmate are that of, song lyrics. Meaning that Joe Mazzello was imprinted with the lyrics, âSomebody to Love.â He didnât even understand the meaning until the song came on the radio, yelling that it was the words he had on his skin, thus prompting his parents to tell him the lore.Â
When Joe was young, the lyrics turned him into quite the hopeless romantic. While others found girlfriends and partners for the time being, waiting for their soulmates to show up, Joe backed away from every girl he could, not wanting to get to close, scared that if he did, he may never find the person with the matching lyrics. And while all of those students eventually did, Joe was one of the only guys at the end of College, to be a virgin, and not find his soulmate. He found it quite ludicrous. He had been in films since his youth, and yet no one seemed to every ask him what his lyrics where on his arm, making it impossible for him to find the match unless by chance.Â
During his directing and acting for Undrafted, Joe had gotten so antsy about meeting his soulmate that he would blast, Somebody To Love on the cars stereo every morning, hoping it would prompt his soulmate to suddenly appear, but that never happened.Â
The Next year, he got a call about the biopic, Bohemian Rhapsody. They wanted him to depict the famous bands, bass player. John Deacon. At first he was ecstatic, I mean, it couldnât just be a coincidence that he got the part, right? Maybe his fake wife would end up being the girl of his dreams? What if it was Lucy Boynton? That would be a real shock. But as Joe met the cast, asking them about their lyrics, almost obsessively to every person on set (including Ben.) there was still no sign of the soulmate. Only Joe had forgotten about a lot of important people; the crew themselves. Which was over 200 hundred people, who could, just maybe have his lyrics.Â
Though, he wasnât completely alone. He had his cast, his family and Brian and Roger. Both Brian and Roger were extremely supportive of Joe and would talk to him constantly about love and their views on the soulmates, both of them marrying people who were not their soulmates to begin with, due to wanting children and lives of their own before they couldnât anymore. â I say you start dating around.â Roger would tell Joe, though Joe was reluctant he agreed with the drummer, that he would go on one date, and see how it went.Â
As Joe came onto set, he tried to push all those thoughts away, the ones that were creeping up on him. He felt like he was going to have a panic attack, how could he go on a date, knowing that who ever he went on a date with wouldnât be the person he would have forever? Maybe, Joe just wasnât meant to meet his soulmate though. He had to put his soulmate aside and think of his needs and wants for once, though feeling bad.
After filming for the day, Joe once again got into the makeup chair, this time to take everything off for the day. After his thinking over the course of the day, he now had to find someone he could ask on a date, and as y/n walked back up to the chair to take his wig and wig cap off, he realized that he had somewhat of a strong attraction to her. Though her physique was incredible in his perspective, she was so nice to Joe. She would pick him up coffee in the mornings on her way to the locations, she would text him the night before about how amazing he would do and that he needed to wash his face in the morning for preparation and constantly gave him advice on his soulmate, even though she hadnât found hers yet, and they both hadnât told each other their lyrics. â y/n?â Joe asked as she picked the plaster off his face, â Yes Mazzello?â y/n giggled at his serious tone, a tone that never usually occurred with Joe. â Iâve never asked, but- whatâs your lyric?â Joe asked, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, looking down.Â
â I donât like telling people,â She admitted, â Iâm not going to find them anyway. Twenty Five years of my life have gone by, all my friends have met theirs and people are starting to get married now, so what is the point? My Mother always told me not to get my hopes up, so Iâm not.â She spoke with much emotion in her voice, that of annoyance and disappointment. She then continued as silence danced among them, â Iâve spent so long believing in him- the god of love. But it seems I can never get relief, the opposite of why he apparently created the soulmates anyway.â Joe took in her words, maybe she had a point, but Joe wasnât having it.
â Well, Iâm 34 and I havenât met mine yet, does that mean I should give up on love entirely? I donât believe so. I hate to say this, and I hope the lord of love forgives me when I do, but I believe we can fall for those who are not our soulmates, just as well as we can with our paired person, donât you? Freddie fell in love with Jim, yet not sharing the lyrics. All Iâm saying is that- sometimes- the lord makes mistakes, and maybe you and I are one of them.â Joe shrugged, as y/n gleamed at his words. âI think youâre quite right Mazzello. Maybe someday, weâll both find somebody to love.â Joe almost shivered at her words, his eyes went wide, could she be the one? He tried to laugh it off, â like the Queen song? Somebody To Love?â y/n looked at him, confusion settling on her face, could he be? then reverting back to reality, â Yeah- like the Queen song.â She laughed, â anyway, youâre all done Joseph.â She smiled at the Auburn Haired man as he got up, â Yeah, I should be going-â He awkwardly stood in front of her, looking for a sign within her eyes, but nothing. He turned around to walk away, but decided he needed his moment, his moment to find somebody to love, even if they werenât born to be his, â Hey y/n?â He turned around, calling back to her, â are you busy Friday night?â
-
Well, thatâs it for part one! Thanks for reading everyone! Please comment for a part two!Â
babe, this killed me. thank you for giving me that good shit. smut under the cut my dudes!Â
Ok, so youâre just laying on the living room couch, relaxing after a long day at work and waiting for Joe to come home. The book in your hand is not really interesting you considering all you can think about is Joeâs hands on you. You shift wildly on the couch, trying to get comfortable and alleviate the pressure in your belly.Â
Youâre only wearing an old T-shirt that used to belong to Joe and a thin pair of panties. You bring the collar of the worn shirt to your nose and inhale deeply, it still smells like him despite the fact youâd stolen it from him months ago. You let out a deep breath, closing your eyes and just embracing the scent which is so characteristically Joe. His cologne, espresso, and something thatâs individually him. It has no name, itâs unidentifiable, but itâs Joe and you love it.Â
Just the thought of him has you squirming in your position on the couch and your hand absentmindedly trails lightly over your lower stomach, back and forth. You imagine itâs his fingers, the calloused pads of his fingers running over the soft skin of your belly teasingly. You let out a soft whimper which is promptly cut off by the sound of Joeâs keys unlocking the front door.
You jump a little and scramble into a more âinnocentâ position, which for you apparently meant laying on your stomach with the forgotten book in hand and your legs crossed behind you, swaying softly back in forth.Â
Joe was greeted by your relaxed form the moment he stepped through the door and he had to restrain a desperate groan. The sight of you in only underwear and his shirt was certainly something he could get used to.Â
You pretended to not notice his present, which was hard considering you could feel his energy from across the room and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. When you heard his heavy footsteps near the couch, you turned and sent him a saccharine sweet smile, giving him a show as your body shifted to face him, his shirt riding up right above your belly button. His eyes focused on the exposed are of skin before flitting up to your face, which was still stretched in an easy smile.
âTook you long enough.â You tease propping your head up with your arm as you scan his appearance. He looked slightly disheveled, tense even, the muscles and veins in his arms shifting under his skin. He huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes playfully as he sat down next to you, placing your legs over his lap immediately.Â
âSorry, they kept us late.â He says softly, running one hand up a down your thigh, the other cupping your face. He leans over and places a kiss to your lips, but itâs different than the usual âwelcome homeâ kisses you share, itâs needier.Â
You smile widens as he pulls away and suppress a sweet giggle when he thumbs the hem of his shirt. He narrows his eyes at you, giving you a playfully grumpy look before softening.Â
âSo thatâs where my shirt went?â He questions playfully, raising both brows and pursing his lips as he relaxes into the couch, his hand still placed firmly on your upper thigh.
âNot yours anymore, my dear.â You quip, giving him a satisfied grin. His eyes widen slightly and by the looks of it, he takes your words as a challenge.Â
âOh, really? Thatâs what you think.â He says before grabbing the hem and attempting to pull it over your head. You let out a surprised squeal, laughing wildly as he successfully gets it over your head, leaving you completely bare excluding the barely there panties your wearing. Joe smirks, balling up the shirt before throwing it to the floor.Â
âWell, this is certainly a pleasant surprise.â You give him a shy smile, sitting up to rest on your knees and shuffling to place yourself over his lap. His hands immediately come to rest upon your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there. Heâs already hard underneath you, the material of his jeans rough against your clothed clit and your head falls into the crook of his neck, soft whimpers leaving your lips as his rough hands guide your hips over his lap.Â
âWhatâs wrong, baby?â He asks teasingly, lifting his hips to apply more pressure to your clothed pussy. You let out a breathy moan, the sound of your heartbeat quickening deafening in your ears. The pressure in your lower stomach tightens, tensing and flexing which each movement of his hips against yours.
âFuck, feels so good.â You gasp, hands gripping his shoulders tighter, pulling at the material of his shirt desperately.Â
âYeah, feels good? Rubbing that pretty pussy against my cock?â He mumbles, his own breathing becoming labored. You can feel his fingers bury themselves under the elastic of your underwear, the touch searing. He presses you against him harder, your pussy completely flush with his clothed lap but so close you can feel his entire length through the material. You shudder violently as you feel your high close in, choked gasps and soft moans leaving your mouth as the edges of your vision grow blurry. Then he stops, and your orgasms retreats. You almost cry in frustration, a harsh exhale the only thing you can manage.Â
You give him a grumpy look, pouting as he sends you a smug look. In an attempt to soothe you, he presses wet, open-mouthed kisses to your chest and breasts, intentionally avoided your nipples to tease you. Your fingers lace tightly into his red hair, tugging lightly at the roots and he hums against your heated skin.
âJoe, please.â You whine desperately, trying to move your hips against his, the tight grip he has on your hips stopping your movements. He lifts his head, lips glistening, and presses a heated kiss to your swollen lips.
âWell, since you asked so nicely. Hands and knees, baby doll.â He says simply, giving your ass a light smack before you lift yourself from his lap and get comfortable at the end of the couch, resting your arms and head on the end of it, back arched and ass in the air.Â
âSo pretty.â Joe hums appreciatively, gripping the flesh of your ass, soothing the skin irritated by the light smack. You can hear him remove his shirt, then unbuckle his belt. You hear his pants and hopefully his boxers hit the floor. You feel him settle behind you, not hesitating to pull your panties over your ass and down your legs. You help him pull the garment off the rest of the way, lifting each knee individually under the material joins the growing pile on the floor. Joe can see how wet you are from his position above you, your pussy glistening in the dim living room light.Â
âSo wet, fuck. This all for me?â He groans, dipping two fingers into your wet folds. Your eyes flutter and you can only moan in response, nodding your head softly, your hips involuntarily arching into his touch. Joe removes his fingers and places them over his tongue, groaning at the taste.
âSo good.â He mumbles before gripping the base of his cock and running it through your swollen folds. You let out a heavy sigh, pushing back desperately to receive some form of relief.Â
âPatience, sweet girl.â He teases, before sinking his entire length into you. You groan loudly, head falling forward into the arm of the couch. He hisses, gripping your hips harshly in order to ground himself.Â
âFuck, babygirl. So tight.â He growls, struggling to allow enough time for you to adjust. Your breathing is growing heavy and you can barely keep your eyes from squeezing shut. You know his fingertips will be bruised into the skin of your hips tomorrow but you donât care, if anything youâd be proud to wear his marks.Â
âMove, please.â You beg, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle your hips. He doesnât hesitate to pull almost all the way out before thrusting back in, the force sending you forward against the arm of the couch. Your mouth gapes in a silent scream, heâs so deep, this position allowing him to explore you at an entirely new angle.Â
âF-fuck, Joe. Youâre so fucking deep.â You moan, gripping anything and everything to try and ground yourself. Joe growls from behind you, quickening his pace at your words.
âYeah, how deep am I? How deep is my cock in this pretty pussy?â He groans, leaning down to speak the words right into your ear. Words cannot describe the sensation, so you grab one of his hands and guide it to your lower tummy, just above your pubic bone. Joe nearly loses it when he feels the head of his cock moving within you but he restrains himself, presses heated kisses to your shoulder blades as he continues his steady pace.
âYouâre such a good girl. Taking me so well.â He moans, his pace stuttering when you begin to clench and flutter around him, indicating to him that youâre nearing your high.
âJoe, âm so fucking close.â You whine, and he immediately brings a hand under you to rub at your clit frantically. You gasp, releasing a drawn out, high pitched moan as the sizzling coil within you is seconds away from snapping.Â
âCum for me, Y/N. Cum around my cock.â He growls lowly into your ear, a particularly hard thrust sending you over the edge. You nearly sob, your eyes fluttering closed, vision blown white. Pleasure racks your body and you clench involuntarily around his cock, your body falling limp onto the cushions. You grab one of his hands, lacing your fingers with his.Â
âCâmon, Joey. Cum for me. Let me feel you.â You whine, already growing sensitive after your earth shattering orgasm. He curses loudly above you, his hips suddenly stilling as he spills into you with a low groan and a cry of your name. He breathes out a heavy sigh, shuddering as he pulls out, watching his cum seep out of youâre entrance.Â
âFuck, thereâs nothing prettier than this.â He mumbles, smiling as he sees you all smiley and fucked out, gazing at him through hooded eyes.
âLet me clean you up.â He stands, pulling on his boxers and retreating into the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth.Â
âMight be cold.â He mumbles before delicately running the towel over your heated skin and tossing it into the pile of clothes once he was satisfied with his work. You hum as you relax into the couch, laying on your back and inviting him into your open arms. He obliges, pressing a kiss to your grinning lips before cuddling into your side, resting his head on your naked chest. His hand rest right above your lower tummy, where he had felt himself and just the thought stokes a heat in his lower stomach.Â
âI love you.â He mumbles into your damp skin, pulling you closer. You hum, much too tired to form words, returning the sentiment with a soft kiss to his head before falling asleep with Joe wrapped in your embrace.Â
hope y'all enjoy! keep sending in request and Iâll get to them throughout this week when I have time! -macy:)
Hi I canât stop thinking about sub!Ben so here are some shitty headcanons that nobody asked for or even wants and that I wrote aimlessly without rereading. Inspired by @m0etenchandon because your sub!Ben stuff always kills me. I literally just canât stop thinking about that cute capricorn boi idk man
18+ only content below cut thank qqqq
- He lives to make you feel good.
- Seriously, thatâs all he wants.
- He begs for you to sit on his face and go to town, gripping your hips to leave bruises and going to fucking town, making obscene noises and sucking your clit so hard that it makes your legs actually shake, moaning against you especially when he looks up at you and sees the way your face contorts with pleasure and he hears you praise him and tell him how well heâs doing- okay oof calm thy self
- Oh my god so heâs clingy right? Like, constantly has a hand on you. Youâre sitting watching tv, and his hand is just resting on your inner thigh cause he knows how comforting you find it
- He draws circles on your very inner thigh with his thumb and before you know it heâs asking if he can make you feel good and of COURSE you say yes
- And so before you know it he curls his fingers inside you and itâs slow and so messy and heâs kissing your neck and leaving marks and youâre telling him what a good boy he is
- At any given time heâs pleasuring you, heâs achingly hard
- Cause like hearing you moan and seeing you throw your head back and flutter your eyes shut in pleasure drives him crazy
- So he whines and whimpers and moans in response, and when his mouth is on your pussy this only makes you feel sooo much better because of the vibrations
- (This man would be incredible at eating pussy donât even @ me like have you seen those lips and that little lizard thing he does with his tongue like hello)
- He ruts his hips against the bed, and itâs even more painful when heâs still wearing pants but he kind of loves it cause he wants you to feel good first and he knows youâll reward him
- And of course you do
- You literally have him wrapped around your finger okay like I just know heâs that boyfriend whoâs so fucking whipped for his s/o
- He begs and begs, to be buried inside you, just wants to feel you wrapped around him
- When you finally sink down onto him, he gasps and writhes around, tears literally pricking in the corners of his eyes cause it feels so good and heâs waited so long
- But of course he doesnât ever forget about making you feel good, thumb rubbing fast, tight circles on your clit as you bounce up and down and roll your hips cause he fills you up so nicely and itâs just so intoxicating
- Like you just canât get enough of the feeling of each other, going hard and fast like a couple of animals
- You always want him to cum first, and he literally cries out when you squeeze around him a few times, milking every last drop
- Once the two of you finally catch your breaths after ages, you just stay there with him inside you for ages, stroking his hair and kissing him softly and feeling his cum deep inside you, whispering how good he was for you and he fucking relishes in that, the praise making him love and worship you even more
- To tease him you squeeze around him a couple times, making him literally gasp and whine and writhe about his sensitivity but eventually he slowly gets hard again