trick

first thing he noticed were the calluses on your hands. you didn't fit in. you couldn't make your tie properly, always smiled like this school was a damn game. ben wondered what exactly a guy like you was doing in a school like this.

the other boys laughed at you with cruel smiles. benjamin did think about doing so too. it was easier to just do what the others did. standing up for the weak was never something he was good at. hell, how could he? the last thing his fathet teached him was compassion and empathy.

but for some reason you just laughed along whenever someone made a joke. it wasn't just a laugh to get out of an awkward conversation or a way to shield yourself. your eyes were too bright, your laugh too real. benjamin wanted to punsh you for being so damn stupid. but for some reason he really couldn't. he wasn't a bully, just a jerk.

you didn't understand anything. too oblivious for anything. for a while the blond believed you were just stupid. but that also couldn't be. one time he glanced over a graded assignment all students received back. and all he could do was dream of the grades you got. you were smart but just so much of a ditz as well. at least, that's what he would tell you if you were a girl.

sadly, you weren't, though. doesn't matter how pretty your face actually was or the way your lips glistened with spit whenever you ran your tongue over them. he noticed it, he wouldn't say it out loud, but he knew you did that whenever you started thinking too hard. benjamin also saw the way your brows furrowed, teeth sinking into your lips while tapping your pen against your cheek.

he still didn't stop anyone from joking about you, even if it made him mad. he focused on your smile. ben couldn't stop himself from smiling whenever you did.

one time he asked you for help with homework. ben didn't listen to a word you said, you ended up doing his homework while he was staring at you. he flunked all his subjects anyway but despite it all he wanted to be tutored by you. mostly to hear you speak, to see your mouth move or roll your eyes whenever he wouldn't pay attention.

whenever someone asked, he denied being friends with you. benjamin scoffed at the thought, would push someone whenever they hit a nerve before stomping off. he wasn't your friend. he couldn't be friends with someone like you.

at night he would sneak into your dorm. hand over your mouth while he fucks you, slow and quiet, not to wake your drommate. afterwards he would cry, hold you close and apologize.

"i love you" ben would whisper while carefully petting your hair. you never pushed him away, never complained that he was too much, too heavy. you kissed him back, whispered sweet things, all the things benjamin never got to hear from anyone. and you sounded so damn sincere. it broke him.

benjamin would have sex with you everywhere. not just in your bed but also in his. in the bathroom. sometimes in the back of the library, hidden by thick dusty books. it was the only way he could get rid of that nagging feeling of shame. only for a bit.

sometimes ben would get angry and ignore you. he doesn't know what he gets angry at. but he always crawls back to you, whispering 'i love you's again. maybe he actually did love you.

Soldier Boy liked you—enough to keep you around, which already made you special because Soldier Boy doesn't just like people, and he definitely doesn't keep someone around if it wasn't for his advantage.

You weren't something sweet and gentle. You didn't listen, and you definitely didn't submit to him. Every time you fought back, trying to prove that you were already grown and strong, it made Ben smile in a way—every time you tried to wrestle with him. Any of the insults you threw his way didn't even reach Benjamin's ears.

He let you be angry, maybe because you reminded him a lot of himself. There was something in your eyes whenever you did land a slap. The sharp smile on your face was like a prize whenever you thought you had Ben pressed to the ground.

Both men knew that he was Soldier Boy. He let you win whenever he wanted to. Ben allowed his boy to wrestle him to the ground and smile all proudly—just for you to end up bent over and whining anyway. Obviously, it turned Ben on—the fighting, the grinding, and the punching. It didn't hurt the older men, not even slightly.

But there was also something addicting—that he could just manhandle you around. He didn't let you win every time, and sometimes you would storm off. You were stubborn and thick-headed. But each time you ran off and disappeared, Ben knew you would return—just for the thrill.

Ben let you believe you could fight him. But when he had enough, he would turn the game around. His large hands easily grabbed your arms and, with gentle strength, he maneuvered you however he wanted to. He could hurt you; he could be aggressive, but Ben didn't want to break such a precious boy.

When he had you in the position he wanted, the old man would just hold you close—strong arms wrapped around your torso or waist, hips pumping into yours. All the anger and violence was gone. Your sharp insults turned into quiet, high-pitched noises—small 'ah's and 'oh's left your lips.

Benjamin's thick cock stretched you open, filled you completely—enough to make you go dumb. It was addicting as well.

You were different from everyone else. Ben liked that. You were younger, smaller, and weaker than the grown supé. But you still put up a fight. You tried to prove to Ben that you were as much of a man as he was—and maybe Ben even believed you.

But for now, he would coo gently, keeping you pinned to whatever surface he got you bent over while filling up your insides with each thrust—just enough to make your legs shake.