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strang3lov3 · 3 days ago

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Let Me Try

Benji makes you cum when you can’t do it yourself.

Tags - sexual frustration, finger fucking and clit rubbing, ruined orgasms, benji talking you through it, softest of soft dom!benji, hint of somno at the end, blue balling a gentle n patient Benji :’) he forgives ya tho

A/N - for my soft and sweet dearly loved court :) cum hard, my friend.

Benji’s not deaf, and he’s not an idiot. He knows what you’re doing in there. Or rather, what you’re trying to do. It’s obvious in the way your mattress squeaks and how each of your whines are stuttered out and broken, whimpery. Every so often you groan in frustration, too. There’s never that beautiful symphony of moaning that signals your release. And it’s been hours.

Days, even. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You feel fucking broken like this, unable to make yourself cum, and isn’t that fucking stupid? It’s one thing to be with another person and be unable to get there - there’s a lot of things at play, of course. Are you comfortable with them? Are they doing everything to your liking? Are you anxious about something, got some stuff on your mind, maybe?

While alone, you should be able to just…cum. You know how to do everything, after all. How to turn yourself on and how to rub your fingers on your clit and pump them in and out of your cunt. Been doing it since you were a kid. So why the fuck isn’t it happening? You feel like your body’s failing you, and you feel like you’re failing yourself. The cycle of defeat is making you grow weary. Pissed off.

Your hair is mussed when you finally come out of your bedroom, cheeks shiny with a light sheen of sweat. Benji notices the way you pout and glare at nothing, crossing your arms when you sit opposite him on the old, torn, navy couch.

“Have a good nap?”

You shrug and mumble something under your breath, frustration still painted over your features. You can feel Benji glancing at you, his brows raised in concern. “I didn’t sleep,” you mutter, looking out of the sliding glass patio door. It’s rainy outside, and there’s a couple of birds jumping in and out of puddles. Benji’s got some pancake scented candles lit to mask the smell of his weed.

“Yeah? Why not?” He’s focused on his Nintendo switch, deftly moving his fingertips on his controller. Another shrug from you as you watch him play the game - Unpacking, which you bought for his Switch. You can’t really keep track of whose shit is whose anymore, though. Yours and Benji’s lives have bled into each other so much at this point, it’s hard to tell where yours begins and his ends when you’re sipping tea out of his favorite mug or when he’s eating Lucky Charms with your favorite little spoon that you stole from some shitty diner. Whatever you and Benji are, it’s nice to have him by your side. “Don’t wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you answer.

Benji offers you a warm, sympathetic smile and then lifts up his oversized knitted blanket, inviting you over. You crawl over and snuggle up to his side, but Benji doesn’t want that. He turns and wraps both of his strong hands around your hips, then grunts as he pulls you into his lap, spreading his legs to make room for you. Benji would cut himself open and put you inside his ribs if he could, but this’ll have to suffice for the time being.

You’re watching him unpack his digital boxes, and you like all those quiet, satisfying little noises the game makes, as well as Benji clicking the Joy-Con’s buttons and joysticks. You could fall asleep listening to it, sort of like you did when you were in school. Laying your head on your desk during some downtime, listening to your teacher reply to emails on her laptop until the bell dismissed you. Always on a warm spring day for some reason, close to when school lets out for the summer. The breeze pouring in from the open window. It gives you the same sort of feeling.

“Do you wanna play?” Benji murmurs quietly, gently tapping your side.

“Mhm,” you mumble, taking the Switch from him. Benji adjusts and sits more upright against the couch, but you stay lying against his warm torso. He’s got such a welcoming body, like all of him was made just so, for you alone. His belly is soft for you to snuggle, and warm for you to warm your hands against. His shoulders are broad and there for you to cry on, and his heart beats calmly to steady your own. His beard is there to tickle your inner thighs and your cheeks when he’s kissing your face or your pussy. His fingers fit in between yours like they’re puzzle pieces. He’s yours, in a way. Your Benji. You think he was always your Benji, always meant for you.

Benji lets you play the game for a couple of minutes, and he finds that as you get lost in it, you start to relax. He worries about you and the tension you carry in your shoulders and your jaw, you know. Because it’s always there, right? Always lingering, until he brings you close and you just…melt against him, just like you’re supposed to. Benji lures you in and relaxes you in these clever little ways, by having you play quiet, mindless games and by stroking your hair until you calm.

He kisses your head and notes the way your breathing slows, how your shoulders drop a little. Benji’s hands slide down your body and he tugs your shirt up a little, and rubs his palms over all that soft, bare skin.

Benji draws circles on your abdomen with his middle finger, with a hangnail gently dragging against your skin. His hands are like that, always. Overworked and rough and calloused, but so soft in their own way. Like a sweatshirt gone through the wash too many times, where the inside of the fabric is all rough and pilled but so fucking warm and cozy. Or a child’s stuffed animal, loved to the point of charming disfigurement. A missing tail, sewn on with thread that doesn’t match the color of the body. Eye paint rubbed off, drawn on again in Sharpie.

Benji’s hand slips beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, and you gasp when you feel him playing with your pubic hair. “Hey, wait - Benji.”

“Hm?” Benji hums softly. “Want me to stop? I can stop.”

You shake your head. “No, I want–” you begin, then trail off into a stutter. “I want it, I just - it’s - I can’t…y’know. Lately.”

“Can’t what, dude?”

You pause before answering. “Cum,” you admit, finally.

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, it’s true,” you argue. “I’m just…yeah, I don’t know. Broken or something.” Broken, yeah. That’s a good way to put it. Broken, like you’re a misfit toy or something.

“Okaaaay,” Benji drawls. “But I’m handy.”

You scoff. “Well yeah, sure, with opening jars and whatever but you can’t–”

“Let me try, though?”

You’ve heard those words before. Benji’s infuriatingly adept at fixing shit, because he is exactly what he says he is: handy. He’s great at hanging pictures and adjusting the screws in your glasses and whatever else. And usually how it goes is Benji finds you getting all huffy and pissy about something broken and fucked up, and you tell him you’ve got it, or that it’s fucked forever. And Benji goes ‘can you just let me try?’ and whatever’s broken is then fixed. Wrongs are righted, because Benji’s handy.

He’s a bit of a jack of all trades, and a whisperer of everything. Benji’s got this special way about himself where things just sort of go his way. He charms a lot of people, and even animals, too. There’s this feral cat that’s been coming around for the past seven months or so, and she wants fuck all to do with you, but Benji, well. She’s Benji’s girl. He sits outside with a can of tuna to lure her close, then gives her belly rubs in a patch of sunlight until she wanders off again. Benji says he’s playing the long game, that he’s gonna get that cat one of these days. He says he’s gonna bring her inside and turn her into his familiar or some shit.

You sigh and part your legs, making more room for Benji. He adjusts you so he can reach your pussy a little better, and you move the Switch out of the way to watch how he touches you. “No, don’t - don’t look at what I’m doing. I’m not here,” he tells you. “Just play your game.”

You sigh deeply. “It’s not gonna happen, Benj.”

“Uh huh, well, shut up. Positive mental attitude.”

Benji waits for you to start playing again, and then his fingers find your seam. He slides them low, feeling you out. You’re not wet yet, and not particularly warmed up, so he licks his fingers, and hums at the taste of you.

“Pervert,” you whisper, earning a chuckle from him. He touches you again with slick fingers, simply dragging them up and down your folds, sometimes passing over your clit. You wriggle a little and push yourself against him, letting out soft sighs as he touches you.

“Shh,” Benji whispers. “Relax, dude.”

Benji patiently works you up, and he feels satisfied with himself when he gets you to drip. You’re using your hips to follow his hand, and you’re sighing his name when he pushes his fingers inside your entrance. In and out, in and out, slowly teasing you.

“Benji,” you whine, arching your back a little.

“I got you.” Benji kisses the side of your head. “M’right here, dude. Not going anywhere.”

He fucks you on his fingers, then rubs your clit for a moment or two, alternating between both actions. He knows what your problem is, and it’s impatience. He can feel it in the way you chase his touch, and he can hear it in your frustrated little noises. You’ve tensed all up again, too. “Try not to force it, okay?”

“I’m not, I just–” you huff, restless and already annoyed.

“I know - hey, I know. It’s not a race and I’m not going anywhere, so just…yeah, yeah, perfect.” Benji smiles, happy when you settle against him again, all that strain melting away again. “Attagirl.”

You’re having trouble focusing on the game as Benji touches you, but you’re trying to follow his instructions. It’s all made worse as he kisses your ear over and over, drawing the tip of his nose over it, too. You’re close, and release is right around the corner if you let it come. So you drop your game and roll your hips in time with his ministrations, breathing heavily, chasing that special feeling. And it’s right there - you are right fucking there, and then it’s gone, like the memory of a dream vanishing when you open your eyes.

You groan loudly and cover your face, feeling tears prick your eyes. They build quickly and fall down your cheeks, and fuck - you feel so fucking pathetic, crying over this. You scoff when you watch Benji pull his hands away, but he pays your attitude no mind.

For fuck’s sake. It’s been hours - no, days, you realize. Because you couldn’t fuck yourself earlier, and not yesterday, and not the days before that and–

“C’mere,” Benji murmurs, pulling you a little closer against him. He tugs the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand and wipes your cheeks and your nose. “It’s okay, man.”

“It’s not, though,” you tell him, choking on a sob. You sniffle and gasp as you cry, feeling worse about yourself as Benji continues to dry your tears. He’s not mocking you, but it’s hard not to feel mocked when your own body is doing such a thing to you.

“I know, I know, I know. You’re all fucked up, huh?”

You don’t answer Benji, and he doesn’t mind. He lets you cry it out for a while, patiently, silently. Lets you have your little temper tantrum. You poor thing, all out of sorts. He scratches up and down your arms until you quiet yourself, and those wet sniffles of yours have spaced themselves out.

“Hey.” Benji taps you. “Look at me.” You turn and look at him, met with his kind and empathetic eyes. Benji pushes some hair out of your face and rubs your swollen, sticky cheeks with his thumbs. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t get all worked up like this,” he tells you quietly, noting how you look away. Benji turns your face gently, bringing you back to him. “Hm? Right?”

“M’guess.”

Benji nods. “Yeah, because that’s half the problem,” he says, matter of factly.

You’re annoyed at his tone, and you’re mad because he’s right. Angrily, you argue. It’s instinctual. “But you fucking–”

He shakes his head, cutting you off. “Nope, cool the fuck off, dude. I’m on your side,” he says, encouraging you to take a breath for a beat. “We’re gonna figure it out,” he says softly, wiping the last of your tears away. “Yeah?” You shrug as you sniffle, hesitant to agree, so Benji tries again. “Hm? Yeah? You wanna keep being a baby or do you wanna party?” he asks, poking you in the ribs until you break into a giggle.

“Fine. But I’m not a baby.”

“Mm. Crying like one, though, aren’t ya?”

You say nothing as you flip back over, but Benji laughs behind you. His hands slide beneath your pants again, and he’s back to teasing you. You’re still nice and wet and swollen, and you’ll cum for him so long as you don’t get all in your head again. Just breathe, dude. It’s gonna be okay.

Benji’s got two fingers inside you, curling against your g-spot, and he’s using his other hand to rub your clit in tight, steady little circles. He can feel that sensitive part of you twitch, and he knows by the way you’ve gone quiet that you are right there. “I got you. You can do it,” he coos. “Doing so fuckin’ good, kid. Like that, just like that. Just let it come to you, let it happen...”

You squeeze your eyes shut as the pleasure builds, chasing that little spark until you feel it wash over you. Fuck, it’s everywhere, coursing through your veins and making your muscles tense and release, rippling through your body in waves. Benji fucks you through it, his fingers never faltering until you tell him you’re done, enough, enough.

You flip back over on your belly and hug him tightly, breathing heavily as you come down. Jesus, you’re fucking crying, still. You’re relieved to have cum, even more so to know that you’re not broken like you called yourself earlier.

“See? I knew you’d fuckin’ do it,” Benji says softly, rubbing your back. He laughs when you tell him to shut up.

And you stay like that for five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen. Drifting off into a well-earned nap as Benji strokes your hair and scratches your scalp. “Hey, you. You gonna return the favor? Aren’t you supposed to - I don’t know, you pay it forward or some shit, right? Hm?” He adjusts so that you’re not putting so much pressure on his cock, left all stiff and aching. “No? Just gonna leave me high and dry to nap on me?”

“Mm.”

“Ohhkay, you fuckin’ dick. That’s fine. Just don’t be all fuckin’...whatever when you wake up and my cock’s in your–”

You’re already snoring, you fucking asshole. But whatever. Benji giggles and kisses the top of your head, then picks up where you left off in Unpacking.

you know the drill :) reblog and dirty talk me in my inbox. love ya :)

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