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waynes-multiverse · 1 year

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Rehab – Chapter 4

Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, tons of fluff, heart to heart, moral gray areas, mentions of past abuse, death (incl. one of a child) & suicide attempt, drugs and drinking, smut (public and yet secluded p in v, dirty talk)

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Reader’s background is revealed and Ben’s even sweeter (still cocky, though) 🐻🍯

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 3 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Chapter 4: 9 lives

“Morning, sunshine.”

Ben smiles at Y/N as he settles down in his usual spot across from her in the cafeteria. His tray is empty except for a glass of orange juice and a mug with black, sweetened coffee. There’s also a blunt tucked behind his ear, slightly hidden by light brown locks that fall into his green eyes. After breakfast, he always smokes on the patio outside with the rest of his caffeine. It’s his usual routine. Everyone’s got one here.

It’s Thursday, and Ben hates Thursday breakfast “with his heart and soul,” as he once declared, which is why he only opted for liquids today. Y/N can’t blame him, though. No one likes Chef Matt’s runny eggs.

Otherwise, the former supe has adjusted quite nicely to his new life at the rehab center. Now, the two of them could almost be classified as friends, their little night of fun remaining a one-off, even if Ben hasn’t quite accepted that fact yet and keeps trying for a repeat. Of course, he does. Giving up doesn’t seem to be part of his vocabulary, minus one little suicide attempt, but as soon as sex is involved, the man can be quite relentless in his pursuit.

The rest of the month went by fast as the golden leaves of the baring trees started browning and drying, the weather growing colder as winter approached. Judging by the sun that crawls slowly over the horizon and the cloudless sky outside the big window this morning, today will be one of the last nice fall days before fog and freezing temperatures ravage the country, which proves to be perfect for her plans.

During his first month here, Ben even started to attend his mandatory therapy sessions. Solely the group ones and only in her company, even though she doesn’t have to go anymore, but that’s the deal they made. He doesn’t contribute much sustenance, except for terrible jokes, unsurprisingly not really being a big sharer. Single sessions didn’t work out so well, however. At least judging by Dr. Morgan’s expression after their first time. The poor doc’s skin was pale and his hair a lot grayer, too, while Ben strutted out of the office with a wide, satisfied smirk as if he had just successfully completed his mission of bullying a kid on the playground.

He really is the green-eyed devil – with or without the suit.

In the evenings, the two of them hang out in her room together, drink and get high, watch movies or TV shows he’s never seen before, and sometimes indulge in a game of poker while Y/N still tries to avoid every personal question he poses. Two weeks ago, he even lost at strip poker, his brilliant idea of stripping her for answers failing miserably. The interrogation never seems to stop, though, and she doubts he’ll ever give up entirely at this point. He’s an obsessed detective, and she seems to be the cold case he can’t solve.

She can’t say she doesn’t like the attention, however, considering Colt has never even asked her for her last name, let alone her birthday. Ben did, albeit she never answered him.

“Morning, shithead.” Y/N grins her greeting, hearing him snicker into his coffee mug as he takes a sip before she pulls out his surprise in the form of a brown paper bag that smells suspiciously like bacon. “Happy anniversary. It’s been a whole month for you.”

His freckled face lights up brighter than Times Square at night as he eagerly grabs the bag and pokes his nose in it, taking a deep whiff. “Oh, you’re the fucking best!”

Y/N can’t help her blushing cheeks and teases, “Can I get that in writing?”

In true lecturing form, he points a warning finger at her, albeit it’s playful. “Ah, careful, Y/N. No one likes a cocky bitch.”

“Says the cockiest of all bitches,” she sasses. He chuckles at her retort before stuffing his mouth with an egg sandwich. “I think you’re ready for an outing. It’s a nice day today. What d’you think?”

“Me? Outside?” Ben’s brow shoots up and reaches his hairline in obvious surprise. “Am I allowed to? I thought I was supposed to stay in here… forever. You know, like a life sentence or fucking death row. I’m actually a bit offended no one has shown up with a firing squad yet.”

“I’ll pass it on,” Y/N quips and admits, “But, uhm, I don’t actually know about the forever thing.” Granted, considering his caliber, it wouldn’t be unlikely the CIA wants to keep him a prisoner till he rots away in here. “But I asked around, and they said it’s okay… at least under my strict supervision and with a few, uh, precautions.”

“What precautions?”

“Uhm, lemme worry about that, okay?” Y/N brushes him off, not wanting to go into detail. She supposes he doesn’t need to know since she’s fairly sure she won’t need to make use of any of them. “So, what d’you say? You trust me?”

“Uhm, yeah, alright,” Ben replies and can barely contain his beam, although he tries to upkeep his nonchalant mask.

“Great,” she grins excitedly. “Finish your breakfast and then take a shower. Meet me at the reception in an hour, okay?”

Ben halts in the corridor when he spots Y/N chatting with her friend Derek, one of the nurses. His pine green eyes drift to her legs in black tights and some brown ankle boots before noticing the cute flower-patterned dress and jeans jacket.

His heart warms at the sight, swiping his tongue over his chapped lips as he adjusts his dick in his pants before realizing he looks like a homeless sloth next to her, considering all he owns are sweatpants and hoodies. He’s not exactly equipped for the outside world, much less a date or whatever he’s supposed to call this outing, but he decides that he won’t let that little fact ruin their day.

You see, for the last month, Ben has been plotting. Intensely so. His goal? Getting Y/N to kiss him, which really shouldn’t be this hard. He’s a catch – and a great kisser as per several reviews over decades, might he add.

Derek seems to give Y/N a couple of instructions as she leans on the counter and nods along with a slightly creased brow. But then the nurse slides a gun over the counter, a Glock 19, and Ben knows it’s meant for him in case he decides to do something stupid. Precautions. To his surprise, however, Y/N takes it and secretly removes the clip, unnoticeably pocketing the ammunition in her jacket before she stores the empty gun in another one.

Does she really trust him this much?

“Hey.” Ben approaches the chatty pair with a smile, which is matched by Y/N.

“Oh, hey! You’re early,” she states nervously, probably because of her previously received instructions, but the former supe doesn’t mind that.

“Uh, these are for you.” He conjures up a meager bouquet of three pink carnations from behind his back and holds it out to her.

“For me?” Y/N’s cheeks heat up in surprise as she accepts them, and it melts his heart. One step closer. And kids these days claim being old school doesn’t pay off. “Thank you, Ben.”

“Did you steal these from the cafeteria?” Derek questions with narrowed eyes, which earns him a stern glare from the fallen hero.

“Yeah, what’s it to you? Got a fucking problem with that?” Ben challenges, knowing fairly well the nurse is still scared of him, powers or not.

“Uh, no, none… sir,” Derek stutters with his tail tucked between his legs. “Have fun!”

“You ready?” Y/N checks and grabs the nurse’s car keys, throwing her friend a quick look of sympathy.

Ben shrugs and gestures down his sweat-clad self. “Guess so…”

“Don’t worry. I’ve planned for that,” Y/N assures him with a bright smile. And then, she uses her ID card to open the ominous doors of the clinic, and the two of them head out into the sunshine.

“How long does it take you to put on pants and a shirt, stud?” Y/N calls out as she sits on a little red pouf and waits outside the fitting room of a department store in Woodstock.

“It feels goddamn weird,” she hears him grumbling inside, so she gets up and pokes her head through the navy curtain to take a peek. “Hey! Privacy!”

“Oh, hush, we’ve already seen each other naked. Your dick’s not a mystery to me, shithead,” Y/N silences him and tilts her head, surveying his outfit. She can’t help but let her eyes wander, which she takes as a good sign. “I think you look fine. When’s the last time you’ve worn jeans?”

“I don’t know… 70s, maybe? Might’ve even been actual Woodstock,” Ben muses and indecisively eyes his form in the three-way mirror with a judgmentally knitted brow. “I usually just wore… you know…”

“Mmmh. Green, tight pants like Peter Pan?” Y/N teases, earning her a scowl from the former supe.

“They looked nothing like Peter Pan’s,” Ben grunts.

“You sure? I’ve seen pictures.” Before Ben can reply to her jab, she bursts into giggles while his frown deepens. “I’m sorry, okay? Are you almost done, though? I don’t wanna spend all day in here. I wanna go to the lake.”

“Really? I always thought you women loved shopping,” Ben mocks, rolling his eyes slightly. “But yeah, I’m almost done, I think. Can you just explain to me why those jeans are so fucking tight? And why are they broken?”

“Oh my God, gramps, they’re not broken! They’re ripped… and skinny. Trust me. It fits you,” Y/N compliments him, smiling. “You look very cool and young. Hip, as the kids say.”

“Alright, whatever you say, dude,” Ben huffs a grumble, but she can see his cinnamon-freckled cheeks blushing underneath the beard.

Closing the curtain, she waits outside for him to gather his things before he emerges, and admittedly, he looks like sex on a goddamn stick in his new attire once he does – not that she would tell him that, though. His ego has finally transcended the Eiffel Tower in recent weeks.

On cue, Ben chuckles devilishly nonetheless as he stops in front of her and adjusts his black leather jacket over his white t-shirt. “You know, I think I look a little more than just fine. Judging by your stare, doll, I think I look downright hot. You sure you don’t wanna take a bite outta this today? Maybe lick it a little?”

“Calm down, stud,” Y/N snorts and folds her arms over her chest, ignoring her wildly beating heart inside her ribcage that seems to disagree with her.

“‘M just saying, you better don’t do anything sexy, love, or these jeans are gonna get even tighter,” he smirks and cockily wags his eyebrows.

Y/N rolls her eyes back into her head. “Ew! Why do you always have to be so fucking gross?”

“Oh, please… You love it,” Ben retorts and smacks her ass, laughing.

She’s about to open her mouth to respond with a fiery comeback when their gazes swerve to the big flat screen on the wall and find none other than Homelander blabbing about “supe reforms” and “new future plans” in some TV interview. She has avoided turning on the news at the clinic for this very reason, but the outside world still has a way of catching up with someone.

Y/N then notices Ben’s muscles tense, his hands balling into fists by his thighs, brow creasing the longer he stares at his son’s flickering image. She only manages to break his trance when she grabs his hand and forces his fist to open, interlacing her fingers with his as she drags him toward the cash register.

“C’mon, let’s pay and go to the lake,” she distracts him with a gentle smile, and it seems to work as his forest green eyes focus on her instead.

“Yeah, okay…”

“This is really nice,” Ben states, impressed, as Y/N spreads out a red picnic blanket on the green grass with a view of a quiet, scenic lake and some wooded mountains in the background before the two settle down. The colder weather luckily prevented other people from seeking out this peaceful spot today as well, leaving the pair mostly to themselves.

They also made a pit stop by the grocery store for some snacks and drinks on their way here, Y/N opting for Grey Goose vodka while Ben treated himself to a good bottle of scotch on the government’s dime. And, of course, Y/N also brought the weed and shrooms along because, in her words, you “can’t do nature without nature.”

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites around here,” Y/N says, and that small detail is probably more information she has ever shared with him in over a month, which is what he had hoped for – getting to know her better.

“I can see why,” Ben notes and gently smiles, watching as Y/N lies down next to him with a blissful exhale and closes her eyes, soaking up the last warm sun rays before winter. God, he could stare at her forever.

The former supe takes a deep, calming breath. He hasn’t really inhaled fresh air in more than three years, maybe even longer. Sure, there are the occasional strolls he takes with her through the clinic’s highly guarded park, but this still feels different. Better. Real.

In the quiet, as he listens to the birds sing in the maples and firs, Ben’s thoughts drift back to the TV report. The rehab facility has a way of sheltering someone, locking them away from the real world outside. One dares to feel safe and removed from anything bad, all the problems and troubles one once had gone, disappearing from the mind. He’s human now, weak and vulnerable but somehow also freer than he ever used to be, albeit he’s technically still a prisoner of the CIA. He knows there’s nothing he can do anymore, not against the crimes Vought has committed nor against his own goddamn son.

“You think he’ll ever fucking end up here? Where we are?”

Y/N’s eyes pop open and land on him, flat palm shielding her orbs from the blinding sun. “I don’t know. I’m sure the CIA is working on it. It’s kinda the Holy Grail, you know?”

“Yeah, guess so…” Ben heaves a sigh and observes a pair of ducks roaming the waterfront among the reeds, ignoring the small sting in his chest as his ego complains that he isn’t considered to be the Holy Grail everyone’s after. “You know, even if they ever let me outta that clinic, I wouldn’t know where to go. It’s not like I have anyone… or have ever done anything. No family, no home, no job, no talents… Guess my father was right – I did amount to nothing,” he admits quietly and licks his lips. Sure, some might say he had a nice, long life, but what did it actually get him in the end? The parties, the power, the drugs, the women? He’s more alone than he’s ever been and has less than he ever had. Would anyone actually miss him? It seems like no one even missed him during those forty years he was gone the first time around. “I only ever took fucking Compound V and became a hero to make him proud.”

“And?”

Ben peers back over his shoulder at her, raising his eyebrow. “And what?”

“Was he proud?”

He snorts a laugh that gets stuck in his throat as he leans his forearms on his knees. “No, never… Said I took a shortcut… that I cheated.”

“Well, you kinda did,” Y/N says, and he can’t help but agree as well. “No offense…”

“None taken.”

“Did you ever actually save someone, or was it all just a show Vought put on?” Y/N asks as she sits up and hugs her knees, but there’s no malice and only curiosity gleaming in her orbs as if she seems genuinely interested in the inner workings of a superhero company.

By now, he has figured out that Y/N was never part of the big machine, not even a little screw. In the past, he certainly would’ve mocked her for being a nobody, not worthy of the star treatment since she’s not an A-lister like him. Now, however, he’s glad Y/N’s as normal as they come. After all, he hasn’t been top dog for decades, either. It also makes it a lot easier to trust her.

Ben exhales an honest breath. “I guess I saved a few, you know? At least, I think I did. Probably killed more, though, to be honest… Never was much of a fucking hero, I suppose.”

“It’s okay. Neither was I,” Y/N admits then. “I don’t really have anywhere to go either, you know? That’s why I’ve been staying at the clinic for three years now. I guess it’s my home at this point. Best one I ever had for sure.”

“Wait… they‘d actually let you leave that shithole?” Ben cocks one eyebrow high. He’s gathered Y/N enjoys certain privileges, but he didn’t know she already fell into the dismissed category of patients. “Why the fuck are you still there then? Don’t you have family? Parents? Friends? They’d probably love to see you again, wouldn’t they?”

“Yeah, they’re all dead,” Y/N shares soberly and even seems to find that fact amusing, judging by her snort. “I killed my parents when I was three. Grew up in a shitty orphanage in Cleveland.”

“Ohio, huh? Well, granted, that does suck,” Ben jokes to lighten the mood but wonders how a three-year-old can even murder their own parents.

“Happens all the time.” She shrugs her explanation to his silent question. “That’s why the supe orphanages were always filled with kids. They barely had space for new ones. They treated us like shelter dogs there. Abused us, beat us, starved us. Just pets that no one wanted…”

“Supe orphanages? That’s a thing? Kinda fucked up, if you ask me,” Ben scoffs, shaking his head, even though he’s not as surprised as he should be after everything he knows about Vought’s agendas. “I mean, I chose this for myself as a grown-up, you know? No one forced this on me. Even I know that V shit is practically poison. What fucking parent in their right mind would put a kid through that?”

If he were honest, he probably would’ve been one of those parents. If his kids didn’t inherit it in their DNA, he would’ve jammed that needle into their veins himself, making sure they were strong, mighty, and indestructible – the perfect little supe family. But after everything, after… Well, things change.

“A lot of desperate ones who hoped for something better. From what I’ve been told, they didn’t have a lot of money, I guess,” Y/N replies stoically. “My powers sucked, though. Acid.”

“Acid?” Ben questioningly raises his brow. “Kinda explains the sour personality,” he chuckles, earning him a punch in his arm. “Ow! Hey!”

“You deserved that one,” Y/N grins in return. “And yup, I suppose my parents didn’t calculate that in when they signed up at Vought,” she continues her story and then starts to list off, “Killed three of my caregivers at the orphanage. They were abusive assholes, so no one cried about it. Got lucky there... Also disabled two others before I was ten. Then I kinda got a hang of my abilities, but not really, you know? Fried my first boyfriend. He took my virginity, and I sizzled the meat off his bones. Seems fair, right? And oh, I-, uhm, I killed a kid, too. He was six.”

Ben swallows hard and stumps for a beat, letting her words sink in as his mind begins to spin and race in circles. “Is that why they fucking shipped you off to the rehab program? ‘Cause you killed a kid?”

“No, that happened a long time before I even came here. He was in the orphanage, too. Was like a little brother to me. I was thirteen, and I guess he annoyed me or some shit. You know, like kids do at that age. I just-… lost control for a second,” Y/N shares sadly, clearly still affected by that incident as tears prick her eyes, but she’s quick to sniff them down and store them in the deep well of her heart.

“Yeah, I know how that one goes,” Ben says in hopes of making her feel slightly better – or at least less alone. Especially his nuclear blasts were barely containable. One blackout and snap – twenty people ended up dead. “You think people are ever gonna forgive us for what we did?”

Y/N laughs cynically, shaking her head. “No, doubt it. People are not really equipped to forgive and forget, even when they claim to be,” she says. “You know, I came to the clinic willingly. I chose to participate in the program on my own. No one forced me. Stumbled upon an ad one day that said they were looking for supe test subjects. I was the first one, actually… Well, first one that survived the treatment, at least.”

“Really?” Ben’s bewildered by her confession. “Wasn’t that, I don’t know… stupidly dangerous? You could’ve fucking died, right? Like the ones before you?”

“Yeah, well, so could you when you chose to participate in the Compound V trials in the 40s, right?” Y/N retorts and waits for his nod of confirmation. “See? I just didn’t care anymore at that point. It was either no powers or no life. Didn’t have much of one before this.”

“You don’t seem to have much of one now either, sweetheart,” Ben comments without meaning any offense.

“Maybe, but the real world outside is kinda scary. I don’t think I belong there.”

“Oh, c’mon! You’re young! Unlike me, you still got plenty of time to do shit,” he encourages her. “I mean, women go to college now, right? You seem to be about college-age.”

“Wow, how fucking parental and awfully modern of you,” Y/N quips, laughing.

“Shut up.”

“You know, I know you’re technically a dinosaur, but you don’t look like you belong in a museum yet, gramps. Might wanna think about your own future.”

Ben chuckles lightly. “I think we both know I’m gonna die in that clinic. I’m not stupid. I know that old bitch won’t let me go.”

“Trust me. That’s probably for the best,” Y/N sighs. “Do you know the release statistics of rehabilitated former supes? 54% resort to crime and end up in prison within a year, 26% kill themselves because they can’t handle the real world or end up homeless, and 19% get killed by someone they pissed off once. Guess being human also makes you an easy target.”

Ben whistles lowly. “Definitely have a few people I pissed off back in the day…”

“A few?” Y/N arches an eyebrow in amusement.

“A few thousand. But hey, pretty sure most of ‘em are already dead, so there’s that,” he jokes.

“That sounds about right,” she laughs. “About 1% that leave the clinic actually make it, you know? At least at the clinic, I can help people like me. That’s something. My life now is still better than the one I had before,” she determines and looks into his eyes, causing his heart to stop pumping blood for a moment. “And it’s all because of you.”

His brow furrows. “What d’you mean?”

“Your radioactive powers? The ones that expelled Compound V outta supe bodies? The CIA engineered them somehow into a cure,” Y/N explains. “Without you, there’d be no clinic, no hope…”

Ben can’t help the snort that escapes his throat at the revelation before bursting into full-on laughter. “Fucking ironic,” he comments and runs a hand over his freckle-dusted face, wiping the amused tears from the crinkles around his green eyes.

“Yeah, guess so,” Y/N giggles her agreement.

“I know about the gun, by the way,” he states then and catches her shocked expression in his periphery while he keeps his gaze trained on the lake. “They told you to shoot me, didn’t they? That’s the fucking precaution, right? In case I cause any trouble, make a run for it, murder someone?”

Y/N nods lightly, swallowing. “Yeah.”

“What is this outing exactly, huh? Like a fucking test? See if I behave like a good dog?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs her shoulders coyly and, most of all, full of honesty. “Maybe that’s how Mallory sees it… But I just wanted you to get out for a little while and have fun, okay? Thought it’d be a nice change for you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Ben admits, knowing Y/N just meant well. “Why the fuck did you remove the clip, though?”

“Oh, uhm, didn’t think I needed it, honestly. I kinda knew you wouldn’t run. And even if… I wouldn’t have shot you, you know?” Y/N confesses and smiles softly, “Why? Are you planning on running out on me and making a great escape, Steve McQueen?”

Ben’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “Like I said, don’t really have anywhere to go these days, doll.”

“That makes two of us,” Y/N says. “But at least we’re not dead, right? Our lives are not over yet, so that’s something. If anything, it seems like you have nine lives, shithead.”

“Yeah, and I wasted all of ‘em,” he sighs.

“Are you getting suicidal on me again? I ain’t giving you the gun,” she tells him half-jokingly.

“No, just wondering why I’m still here… You said people don’t forgive,” he reminds her. “Statistics and all that…”

“They don’t have to. You just have to forgive yourself. Move on and make the best of it,” she counters.

“You sound like the stupid shrink now,” Ben teases, chuckling.

“Well, Dr. Morgan is right,” Y/N maintains. “The jungle is dark but full of diamonds, Willy,” she quotes, but Ben only blinks at her in confusion. “Arthur Miller? Death of a Salesman?” The former supe shakes his head, causing her to frown. “Have you seriously never read a book before?”

Ben snorts a laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? I barely finished school.”

“Fine,” Y/N sighs her frustration at his lack of education and then wets her pink lips, offering him a smile. “But in case I haven’t said it before: thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me a new life,” Y/N says simply.

“I didn’t do that,” he mutters.

“Maybe not directly, but you’re still the reason why I’m here and get to enjoy some sunshine on my skin at this beautiful lake today,” Y/N insists, smiling, and nudges his shoulder. “If you hadn’t been such a gigantic dick back in the day, your team would’ve never sold you out, and the commies would’ve never made you radioactive.”

“Guess that’s one way to look at it,” he laughs and pensively rubs his fingers over his mouth. “You know, I never had something like this before, someone like you…”

“What d’you mean?”

“A friend,” Ben replies, swallowing. “A real one… One that’s not with me because they’re scared of me or because of my money or fame. At least, I think we are, right?”

“Oh, I’m working on our matching bracelets in the arts and crafts room as we speak, buddy,” Y/N taunts nonchalantly. “You’re gonna love it. They’re green and a total 90s trend.”

“Jesus fuck, would it kill you to shut up every once in a while?” Ben huffs and cards a hand through his hair out of sheer frustration, to which she only laughs louder. “I’m trying to share real shit with you here!”

“I’m sorry, alright? It’s a very persistent defense mechanism,” she excuses and throws him a smile. “Of course, we’re friends, okay? I wouldn’t have done something like this today if we weren’t.”

“Yeah?”

Running his tongue over his lips, Ben then leans closer to her face and dips his head, but she flinches back slightly. When she stills, he reaches out his hand, his fingertips gently brushing along her jawline, and nuzzles his nose against hers, hovering his lips over hers. Her breath hitches, her muscles tensing in his hold. He closes his eyes for a heartbeat, consumes her scent, which always smells of vanilla, lemons, and a hint of candy.

She inhales a sharp breath of air and bites her lower lip, swallowing the heated tension between them. “Ben…”

“I know, doll… I know the rules. I won’t cross the line,” he assures her as their lips ghost and linger for several longing beats. “Just, please… One time, yeah? I wanna fucking feel you for real.”

Hesitating for seven agonizing heartbeats, she finally nods her consent, and Ben doesn’t waste any time to navigate his mouth to her throat, hungrily attaching to her pulse point. She moans at impact, and his hands reach for her hips upon the invitation, effortlessly lifting her onto his lap where his thickening cock already strains against the denim and her clothed cunt.

Trailing greedy kisses down her neck and coloring her delicate skin with bruises, his palm snakes underneath her dress, inside her bra, and gropes her breast, pinching and twisting the nipple between his fingertips till it salutes him. He hums against her collarbone, marks inch after inch of her every time her whimpers beg him for more.

Y/N’s arms drape around his neck, hands needily gripping his shoulders and tugging on strands of hair, anything they can get between them, really. Then he feels it; she claims him as well when she sinks her teeth into his throat and sucks some salty skin between her lips, leaving a trace of her behind. He never had a fucking hickey before – at least not since his high school days, which was obviously ages ago, too long to even remember, and it’s such a turn-on that his cock grows and twitches impatiently in his jeans. He wants to be hers.

“You better take these off unless you want me to rip ‘em and send you home like that and explain to that fucking nurse what happened, doll,” Ben growls into her ear, pulling on the sheer material of her tights.

Nodding breathlessly, Y/N lifts from his lap and makes quick work of removing both shoes and pants while Ben desperately peels the annoyingly skinny jeans down his thighs before grabbing hold of her and yanking her back between his bow legs. Two fingers find her core and emerge with glistening pads as they swipe through her already wet folds.

“Good enough,” he determines and lets his cockhead catch by her entrance before eagerly pulling her down on his shaft till he prods her cervix. Y/N gasps and cries out at the abrupt intrusion, nails digging into his muscular shoulders, causing a low growl to rumble through his chest as he feels her warmth wrap around him in a delirious dream. There’s no time to adjust to every glorious inch of him as her tight walls stretch around his girth. She feels better than he ever fucking dreamed.

“Oh, shit,” Y/N curses and rests her forehead against his, her hot breath fanning against his lips as she pants above him, and his mind fills with desperate thoughts of kissing her once more.

“Ssshh, I know you can take it. It’s fucking good. You’re all good,” he rasps, his mouth soothing her neck as he wishes he could taste her lips as well.

She smiles lazily. “Fuck, I hate you…”

Amused, Ben chuckles and whispers cheekily into her ear, “You better work for that orgasm, sweetheart. I ain’t waiting for you to come.”

“Oh? How long do I have? A minute?” Y/N jabs in an instant and giggles, making him roughly bite the skin on her shoulder.

Ben then lifts her by her hips and thrusts up into her as hard as he can from this angle, hearing her cuss and moan once more at his lesson. “Cocky little slut, huh? Don’t make me find a different use for that mouth again,” he all but playfully threatens and smirks, “I actually practiced this past month. Beat off to you almost every day.”

“Jesus fuck,” she breathes and clenches around him. “Hope I feel better than the tissue…”

Ben only laughs at her response and challenges, “C’mon, fuck me like you mean it, huh? Bounce on that cock, doll. I know you want to. It’s all yours.”

Y/N adjusts her arms around his shoulders before rolling her hips against him in little figure-eights, rocking back and forth, and sliding up and down as their breathing grows more and more ragged. He groans into the crook of her neck, large hands on her waist steadying her, guiding her, and feeling every move of hers.

“Yeah? You like that? Like me fucking you?” Y/N smirks broadly, guessing the answer in the way his face contorts and his eyes squeeze shut as if he is trying to solve the world’s hardest math problem.

“Fuck, yeah,” Ben grunts and holds her even tighter. “Don’t ever fucking stop.”

Chapter 5: jawbreaker

Ready for tomorrow? Lots of angsty drama coming your way! 👀

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