01 The One I Want - 16. Handcuffs

Normally, Rick woke up completely and all at once. This time, however, Shelly was several minutes into an excited dialogue before Rick blinked himself awake long enough to realize that he was (a) awake, (b) in a hotel room, and © he'd answered his cell phone. The non-stop chattering threw him for a bit of a loop. In two weeks he hadn't had any contact with any of Ben's family or friends and now, after an awkward ten-minute conversation with Doug, all seemed as it'd been before.

Shelly's voice was warm and friendly, and aside from talking to him as if he actually knew what she was talking about, she talked as if they'd just been in contact moments before, like they were best of friends or something.

He was still trying to reconcile the apparent discrepancy when he realized that the voice on the other end had gone silent. "Um," he said.

"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?" If he knew Shelly, she'd be shaking her head and laughing. He could certainly hear the amusement in her tone, at any rate.

"Still half-asleep," he said through a yawn. Turning his head, he saw the lump that was Ben curled up under the blankets and he smiled. He petted some of the blonde hair peeking out.

"You can't seriously tell me you're still in bed!" said Shelly incredulously. "It's like nine o'clock your time! You got to get moving, Rick! There's things to do, places to go! That's what I was just telling you."

"Wait, wait, slow down!" Rick broke in. "If you're calling about Ben, there's no need. I've found him."

"YOU HAVE? OH, MY GOD! WHERE? HOW?"

Wincing, Rick held the phone out away from his ear and wished his reflexes were faster. The more he tried to talk, and explain, the faster and louder Shelly got until eventually he just gave up. It was then that he heard what sounded suspiciously like a snicker.

He frowned a little and peeled back the blankets. Ben's merry eyes twinkled back at him. Irritation and amusement fought for a minute and then Rick just sighed and rolled his eyes. Silently, he held out the phone, slipping out of bed to give Ben some privacy for the emotional conversation they were sure to have.

The tiny hotel room didn't offer much, but the water in the shower was hot. Rick walked back into the main room in just a towel to find a Ben-sized lump under the covers on the bed. He sighed and shook his head with fondness.

"Ben." Rick sat on the bed and poked the lump. They'd have to check out soon or pay for another day. He frowned at that; sure, he'd been staying with his old friend Alice, but -- no, of course he'd call her. She doubtless already knew and there was no point beating around the bush. She knew where he'd been staying, too.

"Hey, Ben, time to get up. Hungry?"

A head popped out from under the blankets and Rick really got his first good look at the man who'd crossed a country to find him. There were dark circles under his eyes in addition to smears of mascara and what could possibly be eye shadow. His brows stuck forward in what had to be the most obdurate expression Rick had yet seen. He rubbed his jaw to hide the twitch of his mouth.

"Go away."

Rick's cell phone rang. Both men stared at each other a moment before Rick fished the device out from a tangle of sheets. Shelly again.

"Hey, Shelly."

"That bastard hung up on me!"

The bed shifted as Ben rolled over onto his side and disappeared again. Loud, fake snoring drifted out. Rick swatted him on the hip and got up to get dressed, listening with only one ear as Shelly went off on a rant. Rick was more polite, but he wanted to hand up, too. Women.

"Yeah, okay." Rick grunted and made acknowledging sounds in all the right places with the half-aware ease of lots of practice. He tied his shoes and grabbed his wallet and keys.

"Uh, I don't know, Shelly." He paused with one hand on the door, mind racing trying to figure out what she'd just asked him.

"You are coming back, aren't you?"

"Oh. Well, yeah, of course, but I've got to deal with things out here first. It's already taken way longer than I thought it would. And there's no rush to get back, now is there?"

There was silence on the other end, enough that the rustle of blankets and pillows sounded really loud. Rick looked back over his shoulder to see Ben sitting up, hair disheveled and looking concerned.

"Look, Shelly --"

"Rick --"

They both paused. Then Shelly laughed and Rick chuckled a little.

"I know, I know," Rick went on first. "He's important to me, too, and there's no way I'm going to let him get in any more trouble." Having backtracked, Rick ruffled Ben's hair, smiling as Ben ducked away and tilted over sideways in bed.

"You take care of him, you hear?"

"I will, I will. You have my word."

Shelly took a deep breath. "It's just hard. To trust you, with him, you know? I've been looking after Ben for most of our lives."

"He's got me, now."

"Does he? It's not that I don't like you, Rick, it's just --"

Ben snatched the phone from Rick's hand. "Butt out, Shelly!" he snapped. "You're not my mother."

"Fuck you, Ben! You know what your problem is? You just don't think, that's what! I could go all 'Ghost Dad' on your ass!"

Scowling, Ben flipped the phone closed. "Where are you going?" he asked, looking up at Rick. When the phone started to ring again, he hit ignore.

"Breakfast. You coming?"

Ben knuckled his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, just a sec."

He was still yawning several minutes later when, checked out of the room, they got in a cab to head across town. They got some funny looks at the little family restaurant they went to, but Rick ignored them and Ben focused on his tea.

"Ben...."

Irritated blue eyes emerged over the edge of a generic, white mug. "What?"

"We should talk."

"I think I'll have waffles."

Rick blinked, coughing a bit as some coffee went down the wrong way. "What?"

"Do they have good waffles here?" Ben held his tea in both hands, eyes cast down at the laminated menu. He shifted on the old, pleather seat. Why was it that the draft every restaurant always seemed to have always found its way to stick icy fingers down the back of his shirt?

"Ben, be serious."

"I am serious. I like waffles. Gran makes the best. If they don't make 'em like that, then I should get something else. What is with all this girly stuff on here?"

Rick set his coffee down with a sharp rap against the table. "Ben, I'm trying to have a conversation here."

"We are. Talking about breakfast. You were saying?"

They stared at each other even as their server came by. The woman stopped, paused, and then moved on. Rick frowned, conscious of the tension which had spilled out, making the waitress uncomfortable -- he was uncomfortable! Ben's forcibly innocent return look only made Rick more annoyed.

Rick's phone buzzed and he cursed under his breath, breaking the deadlock to grab it. "Yeah?"

"My, my, somebody's grumpy."

"Alice."

"So, everything okay now? You kiss and make up?"

Rick massaged his temple. "Things are a ... bit complicated at the moment," he replied, glancing back over to the disheveled, blonde mess sitting so primly across from him.

"Aww. Have you tried apologizing?"

"What for?"

"Anything. Everything. How do you expect him to forgive you if you don't say you're sorry?"

Rick rolled his eyes.

"Don't be an idiot, Rick," Alice said sharply. "I'm at work, but I'll see you two later, hear me?"

"Yeah, fine. And, thanks," he added just before he hung up. He sighed to himself as he saw three new messages from Shelly. He slid the phone back into his pocket.

Silverware clattered on plates as the restaurant went about its business around them. Somewhere a child laughed. Ice cubes chinked in a glass at a nearby table and newspaper rustled.

"Yeah," said Rick quietly, reaching for the little bowl of creamers. "The waffles are pretty good." Across the table, Ben smiled softly and Rick sighed, promising himself that they'd talk, really talk, later. He reached over and let his hand rest lightly over Ben's. Their fingers curled together.

Two weeks later they were on their way home and Rick had not yet managed to have the conversation he wanted. He pressed a kiss to Ben's neck where they lay smooshed together and sighed softly. Rick was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Unfortunately, he couldn't get up without waking Ben, and so he contented himself by trying to convince himself he wasn't as uncomfortable as he felt.

They were on the last leg of their trip, a three-day journey by train, jammed into the lower bunk of their private room. It was a little claustrophobic, but Rick had quickly become accustomed to the clackety-clack of the wheels on the track. The best part was they were alone again.

On one hand, having to deal with Ben's issues increased his stress; on the other, Rick felt a genuine comfort by having him close. The rest of his stresses just didn't seem as important. What made it even nicer was winning. Of course it hadn't come without a price. Monetarily speaking, it was a fairly sizable dent, but that was easily rectified. Rick had found a trustworthy investing firm through Ben's lawyer and they'd managed the court costs as well as got the paperwork settled long before the whole nasty legal proceedings finally concluded.

Rick shifted, trying to find a more comfortable spot on a bed advertised as big enough for two, but clearly not designed for two men of Rick or Ben's size. They could wander to the dining car or the gallery when they needed to stretch their legs or got bored of the compartment, but he wasn't going anywhere just yet. He nibbled on the back of Ben's neck, mouth trailing towards a spot he'd found on Ben's shoulder blade that acted like Data's on-off switch, but he pulled back, sternly telling himself to behave.

In North Carolina, Ben had been strong, personable, and very persuasive. He'd charmed the pants off Howie and Alice and all Rick's other old friends. Even having been present Rick couldn't say exactly how he'd done it. He'd even managed a respectable success with Rick's family.

The most miraculous was regarding Rick's Uncle John. Somewhere in the middle of a very loud, heated debate about civil rights, gay marriage, and Black History, the lawyer had stopped very abruptly, tilted his head sideways, and then smiled, extending his hand.

"Damn, boy," he'd said with a gruff smile. "You'd make one heckuva lawyer."

"Naw," Ben had replied. "I'll leave the blood-sucking to you guys." His friendly grin had included Howie, Rick's lawyer, Uncle John, and Lance, Ben's lawyer, who had flown out as soon as he found out where Ben had gone.

To Rick's mother's dismay, the three lawyers had joined forces, and that pretty much was the end except for a few more bucks at the courthouse and a couple stamps. If only everything else had gone as smoothly!

Rick sighed again, snuggling into Ben's back. He had to try and get some sleep because they'd be home in another twelve hours. If not for Ben's allergy to air travel, they'd be home already, not that he was complaining, he reminded himself. He had Ben, he had his inheritance (mostly intact), and he'd even reconciled with enough members of his family that thinking of them no longer hurt quite so much.

What hurt was his back and legs and neck, and his arm was asleep. Groaning, he shifted again, inch by tiny inch until he could slowly creep out of the bed. The train smelled somewhat better than an airplane at least, and the company was better. Sitting down on the small lounge chair, Rick propped his feet up on the foldable bed, running his fingers over Ben's cheek.

Looking at his watch, he judged the time to be only midnight or so in Los Angeles. He called Shelly.

"Hey, Rick, where are you?" Shelly Harper juggled phone, baby, and bottle with learned finesse. Three months of stress had done her in. She and her husband, Doug, had given up the whole breast-feeding gig. Of course, Shelly had ulterior motives: bottle feeding gave Doug no excuse to skiv off the 3 a.m. feedings.

"Somewhere in the desert." And of course now he yawned.

Shelly laughed. "That's a lot of territory, you know. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just bored, and I knew you'd probably be awake."

"Got me there. Ben asleep?"

"Yeah."

"So why aren't you?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"Yes, but I have a little guy named Ollie to keep me up."

"I can't sleep." He could practically hear her roll her eyes.

"Obviously."

"Um, it's Ben's birthday soon."

"Yeah?" Shelly grunted. "What about it?"

"Well, it's just that -- Isn't there going to be a party?"

"Oh. Well, you know Ben. Just some cake and a card at the office. Why?"

"But." He paused, uncertain how to continue. The best birthday he'd ever had the fortune to receive, Rick wanted Ben's birthday to be perfect, too. They had much to celebrate.

"So, um, if there's not going to be a party, should I get him anything? Or do anything special?"

"I like you, Rick, so I'm going to tell you something. I love him like a brother, but Ben's got a screw or two loose."

You're telling me, thought Rick.

She cleared her throat self-consciously. "Anyways, never mind. What I'm trying to say is that if you want Ben to know you care, then fuck him. Fuck his brains out. Trust me, he'll be appreciative."

"This from the same man who says, 'there's more to life than sex'?" asked Rick, dumbfounded. He'd learned some time ago to appreciate Shelly's bluntness. Considering Doug's idea of a subtle hint was a two-by-four to the head, he figured a thick skin was indispensable.

"Yeah, it's a real kicker, isn't it?"

Rick shook his head. "Kind of sad, really."

"Yeah, I know." She sighed, mentally crossing her fingers that Rick was the real deal. She'd prayed that Ben would one day meet someone really special, and would recognize a good thing when he did. Rick certainly seemed to be the first half of that equation, and Ben chasing Rick all the way across the country sure seemed to indicate the second, but this was Ben they were talking about.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do? I want to take him out, treat him real nice, but --"

"Rick. Rick, you're going about this all wrong. You're thinking like you."

"Well how else am I supposed to think?"

"You need to ask yourself what Ben would want. Sure, if it were your birthday, you'd want a cozy night out for two, dinner, a show, fancy suits and hundred-dollar glasses of wine."

"Maybe." That's what people did when they wanted to do something special, right? Splurge a little? "There's that musical, Wi --"

"This isn't about what you want," said Shelly, perhaps a little sharper than she'd intended. She hiked the baby up on her shoulder to softly pat his back. "This is about speaking Ben's language, and that is definitely not my forte."

"Uh, you've lost me."

Shelly wasn't listening, patting clumsily while trying to punch buttons. "Hold on, I'll try and get him on three-way -- how do you do that again? Oh, wait. No, that didn't work. Shi -- shoot. Look, I'll call him and have Hunter call you, okay? I'm sure he knows all the best places."

"Places for what? Wait, Shelly, is this really necessary? Shelly?" He stared at his cell phone with a sinking feeling. Hunter was one of Ben's closest friends. He was also the most perverted person Rick had ever met, and that was saying something.

When he did get on the phone, Hunter seemed quite excited, said he knew just where they needed to go, and it was with some trepidation that Rick agreed to meet the man a few days later.

They arranged to meet after Ben had gone to work and drove down Venice Blvd, with Hunter enumerating all the hidden, fringe benefits of city life. With so many people in one place, there was plenty of room for the 'fringe' to find one another and congregate. By the time they actually pulled up in front of Freddy and Eddy's, Rick worried he might drown for how much he was sweating. This was like a script for a nightmare, stuck in a porn shop with a sex-maniac. He was going to die.

"C'mon, sweetie," cooed Hunter, hopping out. He leaned on the car, peering back inside at the very nervous Rick. "It'll be good for you, put hair on your chest ... And if you don't get out of this car, I'll sic Max on you."

"Oh, God," groaned Rick, putting his face in his hands on the steering wheel. "I'm not doing this. I can't go in there!"

Hunter shut his door and walked around the other side to open Rick's door. He grabbed the blustering man by the ear. "It's just a porn shop, it's not going to kill you."

"It -- ow! -- might," protested Rick, but he stepped out of the car, rubbing his ear. "Why are we doing this again?"

"You need a birthday gift for Ben, and this is just the place." Halfway up the walk, he turned and scowled at Rick. "There is a giant queen just inside those doors," he warned. "Say the word, and I'll have you brought bodily inside."

"Oh, God." Rick forced himself to step away from the vehicle and shut the door. One foot followed the other to where Hunter stood.

"Good boy." Hunter turned his head to hide the snickering grin. Trust Ben to corrupt the incorruptible. Ushering Rick into the house, he instructed, "A good porn shop is truly a man's best friend, and this one's the best one around. Max!" he called over the jangling of the bell.

Rick's eyes bulged upon seeing the man behind the counter. His biceps were bigger than Rick's thighs, and a lifetime of sports had gifted Rick with muscular thighs. Max had a shaved head, sleeveless T-shirt and cut-offs, and every visible inch was covered in tattoos.

He frowned at them, and then pointed to the door. "Get your tranny ass out of my store, freak."

Hunter pouted. "Aw, Maxie, you'll hurt my feelings."

"I told you never to call me that."

A simpering smile met that jab, to riposte with, "Boys like you are why girls like me turn into boys like him." He jerked a thumb at Rick, who startled as if physically poked.

Calculating eyes measured Rick head to toes. He fought himself to keep from sidling behind the nearest rack. Men did not intimidate him ... unless they happened to be twice his size and three times as macho ... or standing in a sex shop.

Max grinned toothily, recognizing the nerves at once and not above a little teasing. "Another rabbit for the hunter, eh?"

"Oh, no," Hunter returned with a sly look. "This one's for Ben."

"Ben?" That had his attention. Straightening, he fastened Hunter with an intense look. "He's ditched that stripper, then?"

"You mean you haven't heard?" Hunter leaned conspiratorially against the countertop. His voice dropped momentarily into serious mode. "Asswipe almost killed him."

Max stared at him, wide-eyed. "No way!"

"Way, Maxie. Knifed --"

"Are we here to shop, or what?" Rick demanded, face flushed for an entirely different reason now. He wouldn't stand to have Ben's private affairs gossiped about in a place like this.

"I hope he got what he deserved," growled Max. "Never liked that guy." He turned his appraising eye on Rick. After begging for months, Max had managed to land one of Ben's exes, and felt damned lucky he had. He wondered briefly what Rick's problem was before sternly reminding himself that it was none of his business. He was off the market, permanently, if Maurice had anything to say about it.

"Any friend of Ben's is welcome here," Max said solemnly. He rolled his eyes. "Even you, Honey." He pushed Hunter lightly but still managed to almost catapult him straight into a display of melt-able massage candies.

Laughing as he picked himself up, Hunter made kissing noises at Max, then took Rick by the arm to lead him around the store. Built in a residential home, Freddy and Eddy's didn't look like a standard back-alley sex shop, and although it catered to straight couples, there was plenty to chose from for the well-informed gay male. Hunter pointed out books, the DVD collection, took Rick to the back porch to grab coffee and talk about the couple's sex workshops, showed him the wall 'o' condoms, and then dragged him down the hall to Hunter's favorite room: the S&M room.

He had to grab Rick's arm again as he almost bolted; however, the room next door with the exotic furniture stopped him in his tracks.

"Oh, my God, I'm in hell," groaned Rick.

"Would you relax?" said Hunter, gamely trying to maintain a straight face. He plucked a studded collar from the wall to hold up. "This one. Yep, this one."

"I am not wearing that."

Sticking his tongue out, Hunter put the heavy leather collar back. "You're no fun. But, he's probably got one, anyway."

Rick frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You mean he hasn't shown you his toys?"

"What toys?"

Surprise took the amusement right out of Hunter. "His toys," he repeated. "Ben could practically open a sex shop of his own. Not like he hasn't practically -- whoa, Rick." He poked the white-knuckled fist, wondering why he couldn't find a man strong enough to lift him in the air one-handed.

"He's not a whore!"

"Never said he was!" said Hunter quickly. "Many couples dabble a little. To spice things up, that's all!"

"That's all?"

"Yeah, man, that's all. Didn't mean anything by it." He shook out his clothes as Rick set him down and stepped away. "Damn, you mean, he really hasn't?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," answered Rick heavily, rubbing his face. This place had him on edge.

Hunter plucked at his lip, elbow in one fist as he thought. "Not even a vibe?" he asked, watching Rick closely.

Rick colored at the thought, tone defensive. "What would he need that for?"

"Don't you indulge yourself, Rick?" He made that a solid 'no' as Rick instantly looked even more uncomfortable and shook his head, muttering something incomprehensible. "You guys have had sex, though, right?"

Dragging his palm over his eyes, Rick turned and walked away. "I am so not talking to you about this."

Hunter stared after him a moment. College English professor, farm-raised and military-conservative, Hunter had pegged Rick as the bottom to Ben's top, though he knew his friend played both sides. He'd just figured, after Will, that he'd choose to top, not bottom, and Rick was such a prude ... He drove a bug, for Christ's sake!

"Wait, Rick!" He darted after the man. "I was just teasing, man, come on. Chill out."

Ducking back out of Max's eyesight, Rick sighed, his glare lacking its usual oomphf.

Rapidly rearranging his assumptions, Hunter gave his friend's boyfriend a wan, apologetic smile. "I wasn't thinking, Rick, I apologize."

The nod might be curt and unfriendly, but Hunter would take it. Turning Rick with a deft tug-and-shove of the bigger man's shoulders, he pushed him towards the front of the store.

"I'll be you're more a candle-lit dinner and roses kind of guy, right? Does Ben give you massages?"

Rick shook his head to accommodate for this new facet to Ben's flighty friend. He could almost -- almost -- see how they could be such good friends.

"Um, no," he said hesitantly.

"What about you, then? You know, a little massage to get things started?"

Trying not to blush again, Rick shook his head.

"Then, here," he steered him towards the guide books, plucking a few from the shelves to leaf through before handing them to Rick. "Check these out ... and here, pick from these. I'll grab the rest."

He disappeared before Rick could question him on just what that had meant. The books gave him something solid to cling to, however, and he flipped through the pages with interest. One book was mostly text, another mostly pictures, and the third seemed a good in-between. He blushed when flipping the page to something that looked like it ought to be in the Kama Sutra ... or what he imagined was in there, having never dared pick up the book himself. He'd never read any of the gay versions either, though not for lack of trying. Manga he could deal with; it was hot, even, but an actual sex manual? That just ... felt wrong.

This is for Ben, he reminded himself. He could do this. It was just a massage, nothing even remotely kinky to make him all flustered. He'd given a lot of massages, actually, girls really digged that, but he'd never attempted to give one to Ben, wasn't sure why not, it just had never occurred to him before. In fact, a massage might be just the thing for soothing those midnight terrors without threatening Ben's dignity or pride.

Their first couple days back had felt nice, normal. Ben had thrown himself back into work despite Rick's protests. He was supposed to be taking it easy (wasn't like he didn't have vacation days saved up), but Ben had refused, saying that he had a reputation to salvage. That was hard to argue, but it hadn't escaped Rick's notice that the tension was back. He tried to push for answers, but Ben just avoided him, or lied and said everything was fine. Something was eating him, though, and Rick was determined to figure it out. If confronting him wouldn't work, then maybe he'd try Shelly's advice.

Folding his arms over the books, Rick frowned at the racks of massage oils. He loved Ben, probably from the first moment he saw those baby blues. He'd never thought -- surely he'd thought he'd be looking for a long, long time before finding someone he could love, had even wondered if he'd missed that special someone pretending to be straight all those years, but when Ben had walked into his life, Rick just couldn't let him go.

Being with him was like teaching; it was a bone-deep feeling of rightness, of being exactly where he was supposed to be. And when Ben smiled, well, he had a normal, everyday smile, but he also had a special one, just for Rick.

"'You are my sunshine,'" he murmured quietly. Ben's smile made Rick's skin tingle and his heart race, but not in a sexual way, more like he was really, truly, actually worth something, something special, and valued, and desired. It was painful and wonderful at the same time, puffing out his chest with pride and also lightening his feet so he could float away.

A yellow-orange bottle caught the corner of Rick's eye and he reached for it without thought. He flipped the cap off, breathing deeply of a scent like freshly-mowed hay and summertime. It was nice, but he doubted the oil would be soothing. Starting to consider this as a serious business, Rick scanned the shelves.

He knew when he found the one.

Ben had a curious attachment to a particular shower gel Rick had. Supposedly designed for athletes, the gel smelled like aloe vera and could be used in the shower or a bath to relax fatigued muscles. Rick started buying the gel after a particularly rough rugby match a couple years previously. He wasn't sure why, but Ben seemed to like the scent (although it was supposed to be scent free).

He turned with bottle in hand and saw Max chatting with Hunter at the counter. They looked up as he went over, and if Hunter's eyebrow arched over the selection, he mercifully made no comment. Instead, he plunked two boxes, one large, one small, and a small, plastic bottle on top of the books Rick set down.

Starting to pick up the narrow, oblong box, Rick blushed beet-red again as he realized what he held.

"Top of the line," said Hunter, tapping on the top with a manicured fingernail. "All the rage right now." He pointed out some of the settings, blithely ignoring the fact that Rick was about to die of embarrassment at any second. He shook the box of condoms, thin and ribbed and glow-in-the-dark, fluorescent colors, and then extolled the virtues of the lube he'd picked out.

"Looks like a fun night," said Max as he began to ring up the purchases.

"And this," Hunter finished, brandishing a jewelry box as wide as his hand, "is my gift to you."

Gulping, Rick gingerly accepted the box and took off the lid. His jaw dropped. "Handcuffs?" He shook his head hard enough he thought he could hear his brains rattle around. "Uh, no, thanks, but ..." Ben didn't like being confined or restricted.

Hunter waylaid the box with a flat palm, pushing back towards Rick. "For you," he said firmly. "They're not fuzzy, but they are padded. Key's in there, too." He glanced at Max for help as Rick's protests grew stronger.

The big hand settled on top of Rick's and the box, crushing them together. He winced.

"Not for Ben to wear," said Max. Ben had trained Maurice far too well for Max to picture the little spitfire as a submissive. "For you."

Rick blinked, staring down at the handcuffs. "Oh," he said. He didn't know if he was amused or mortified to think that these two believed him the uke in this relationship. His friends had only ever teased him about being such a dominating top, because he preferred men that were smaller, weaker and, well, to be honest, nerds. Perhaps it was dorky, but there was something just really attractive about a man in glasses. If Jean Gray had been male, he'd so have been all over her. Lieutenant Barclay was his favorite Star Trek character. Was it weird to like lab coats?

Grinning conspiratorially at each other, Hunter and Max finessed Rick through his purchases and got him back to the car.

"See? You lived."

Rick just gave Hunter one of his looks. The other man laughed the entire way home.

Back at the house, he had just time enough to finish laying out his evil plan before Ben got home. Not having any celebration at all just seemed wrong, but he took Shelly's advice to heart and compromised. He didn't decorate or do anything special to the house, other than to clean it, top to bottom, until the place sparkled. He also wrestled Snowball into her carrier and took both cats back to his apartment. Rick understood Ben's caution, but the desire to spend every waking moment together made maintaining two separate residences rather ludicrous, in Rick's eyes at least. He pretty much lived at Ben's place, had even changed his mailing address, and had extended his lease through the end of the year. He hoped by then that he could talk Ben around to the idea of officially living together.

Once the cats were out of the way, Rick finished his cleaning, readied the stereo on one of Ben's Indie channels, and set the table to receive the dinner for two set to be delivered at nine p.m.

Rick could make a decent meal if it came in a can, whether or not it was edible was yet another question, as Ben would say. Canned goods, frozen, microwave dinners, and some boxed stuff, depending on the complexity of the directions, were all that Rick trusted himself with. He could also fry eggs. Fried eggs on toast was his standard breakfast food, because he preferred to eat several small meals during the course of the day, and one could never eat too much fruit -- unless it resulted in the runs, but those had been oranges, and Rick had to be careful with his citrus, anyway.

Ben, however, was an amazing cook, due in no small part to the demands of his grandmother. She had raised Ben and his half-sister, Genny, for most of their lives. As a professional chef, Gran had made sure that both her grandchildren could find their way around a kitchen. Ben often feigned surprise that Rick hadn't somehow poisoned himself or starved to death in all his years as a bachelor.

While staying with one of Rick's friends in his hometown, Ben had caught Rick attempting to scramble eggs ....

"Gah!" cried Rick, jumping as Ben's head popped over his arm to peer at the stove.

He immediately tried to wrestle the pan away. "What are you doing? You're burning it!"

Fending Ben off with his spatula, Rick scowled. "You can't burn scrambled eggs." He'd wanted to surprise his lover with breakfast in bed, and scrambled eggs were practically impossible to screw up. Or so he'd thought.

Ben made another grab for the pan, swearing as he came up with a handful of yellowy-white glop and cheese. "Yes, you can," he protested. He tossed the rapidly-cooling mess back and forth like a hot-potato. "Look, it's all runny."

"That's just the extra milk," said Rick with a shrug. "it'll burn off."

"Oh, for the love of ...." Ben closed his eyes briefly, with the look that Rick imagined said something like, 'Dear God, let me not murder this man, please?' It was cute, but annoying.

"If you wanted eggs, all you had to do was ask." When Ben opened his eyes, he licked his lips lasciviously and cocked an eyebrow suggestively. The not-so-subtle reminder of their very first breakfast together went straight to Rick's cock. That was a birthday breakfast Rick would never forget, even given a lifetime of memories.

From the look in his eyes, Ben was thinking the same thing, but Rick would not be denied. He muscled his way back to the stove, stirring briskly. "I'm perfectly capable of scrambling eggs, thank you very much."

Ben nibbled on the bits he held and grimaced. "But, Rick --"

"I'm making breakfast."

"You're fucking burning it!" Though physically outclassed, Ben never let that stop him in attempting to bully his way. He shoved Rick with a hip as he tried to slip under his arm and steal the pan again.

Grabbing flipper and skillet, Rick whirled easily away and out of reach. He shook the plastic spatula for emphasis. "There's nothing wrong with my eggs."

Ben attempted to attack the problem logically: "When there's that gray, watery-looking stuff, your 'extra milk,' it means that the temp's set too high, the equivalent of burning it." He gave Rick a pleading look that Rick privately called his 'chibi' face. "I can help, if you --"

"Oh, no, you don't!" He flourished the spatula as if preparing to do battle. "You just want to take over. Now, back off."

"It's going to taste like shit."

Stung, Rick drew back. "It is not going to -- hey!"

Ben lunged as Rick's posture relaxed, yelping as Rick intercepted the action and whapped his lover with the spoon. He teetered, instinctively grabbing Rick to keep his balance.

Cold, runny, somewhat cheesy eggs smeared Rick's chest, liquid oozing down to wet the top of his light cotton sleep-pants. He scowled and Ben laughed apologetically, blushing, eyes bright with mischief.

Moments later, their wrestling landed them on the floor, smearing egg in each other's hair and on skin or clothes, and laughing hysterically. Holding Ben flat on his stomach by a tight hold on his boxers, Rick rubbed a fistful of egg under his lover's collar, Ben wiggling and squirming to escape, but sabotaged by a decided lack of breath caused by excessive mirth.

The boxers gave, sliding down over a round, pink butt, flushed like most of the rest of Ben's skin. Hands otherwise occupied, there was just one thing left to do.

"Ow!" Stunned, Ben twisted about to stare. "You bit me." He frowned at Rick's devilishly innocent face. "You fucking bit me, asshole."

"So, what are you going to do about it?" Leaning down, he nipped a second time.

"Ouch! Ow, hey! Heh-hehe-ha -- stop it! Ah! Rick! No fair!"

Rick nibbled and teased with a vengeance, tickling Ben mercilessly. The boxers slid down even further as, laughing and wheezing for breath, Ben pelted Rick with egg and slithered across the floor, trying to escape. He ended up on his back, the bouncing, pinked cock in a nest of dark-blonde curls drawing Rick's immediate attention.

Ignorant of the vulnerability, Ben went from mostly hard to rock-hard the instant Rick's tongue grazed the very tip of his cock, his loud, surprised moan a little more high-pitched than normal. "Ah! Oh, fuuuck!"

Arms still entangled in the shirt twisted haphazardly around his torso, and legs trapped in partially-removed boxers, Ben flung his head back as Rick sucked him down. His stomach ached from the unaccustomed exercise, but the ice in his gut came from elsewhere and he jabbed hard with his knee.

Grunting, Rick let go, taking in Ben's panic-fueled twisting with a worried frown. Grabbing the folded-up bottom of Ben's shirt, Rick ripped the clinging fabric from his body, freeing him. The response was immediate. Ben surged upwards to meet him, tangling tongues together in a fresh kiss. Rick's frown melted, and he reached blindly towards the counter for the bottle of olive oil he'd used to grease the frying pan.

The bottle slipped and slid in his grasp, drawing Ben's attention when the cap came off and oil spattered across his chin and shoulder. His nose recognized the scent, but his fingers stirred the droplets anyway.

Ben smirked. "Now I know why you have that bottle at home." He'd cracked open a little bottle of olive oil hidden away in Rick's cabinets to make them breakfast one day. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but with how seldom Rick cooked, he now knew the oil to be something of an enigma in Rick's kitchen.

Grinning, Rick wrapped hands slick with oil around both their cocks, replacing Ben's smug smirk with a lustful moan. His head fell back, body jerking in reaction. Rick plucked a chunk of egg off the hollow of Ben's throat with his teeth, sucking hard enough to leave a mark and not caring. Hands clawed at his head and Rick let himself be led back to Ben's mouth as the oil heated and gave off a strong scent of olives and herbs.

"God!" Ben moaned, hands pulling at strong shoulders and back. "Fuck, Rick, I -- oh! Oh, fuck!"

Rick nibbled on an ear and Ben was lost, shuddering and trembling as he came, teeth clenched, and skin flushing. They lay together, giggling softly like two kids over stolen sweets, for long moments, but Rick made sure they were up and moving before too long. He got Ben washed off and back in bed, the sleepy man making few protests, and returned to the kitchen. He would get his breakfast in bed after all, and this time he'd cook the eggs at a lower temperature.

Ben had intended to leave work on time, but everything conspired against him. The server went down just before seven, and there was nothing he could do but wait for the techs to get everything working again. Since the agency was closed on Sundays, that left him little to do but shoo everyone home early and tidy up his paperwork. There was enough paper to get lost in, all organized neatly into stacks. He signed the latest set and set those in his out-tray for Monday. He shut his computer down and took a last look around.

There was something different about the place although he couldn't quite put his finger on just what. The atmosphere was lighter, happier, he supposed, than he could remember it being for a long time. When he'd come back from North Carolina, the tension had been thick enough to be stifling. In not so many words, HQ had apologized, and they'd gotten back to business. He had many clients to catch up with, missed sessions to make up, and hurt feelings to soothe. The first folks he'd called were Jack and Roger.

Jack answered, as Roger was off on a flight, but Ben had expected as much. Jack had been tentative in his greeting, wary, but had agreed to bring his partner in to talk when he got back. Ben had started to apologize, but Jack cut him off.

"No, you were right," he said. "We don't talk enough, Roger and I, not about the important stuff. You're not going to be there forever, and if we don't learn how to work things out, together, then we're just screwed anyway."

"Well, I ..." He was glad for that, at least. "It's just ..." He'd planned to wait until he had both men in front of him, but Jack sounded so heartbroken that Ben hadn't wanted to wait. "I've been thinking about what you asked me, before, and, well, I'd like to do it."

Jack sucked in a quick breath, knowing how much this would mean to his partner, but unwilling to get his hopes up. "Why?"

"Because, well, it's just, maybe I was being too hard on you. I mean, you've as much chance as any straight couple. Maybe better, considering what you've been through all ready. I just, you two don't seem, well ..."

"Compatible?"

"Yes, maybe." He thought about himself and Rick and how different they were. "But, when you look closer, it's like ... like two puzzle pieces fitting together, you know?"

There was silence on the other end for a moment. Jack's smile came across the line as he teased, "It's that Rick fellow, isn't it?"

"What?"

Jack chuckled. "You're in love, Ben. But don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Certainly puts a different spin on the world, though, don't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure. Well, set aside November 1st, then. We'll go over the details when Rog gets back."

"Okay."

"'Bye, Ben. And welcome back."

Now Ben plucked the fancy invitation off the top of his desk and looked it over critically. Were they right? Had he changed?

Most girls spent a good part of their childhoods dreaming about the kind of wedding they wanted. At least, that's what Ben had heard, anyway. Genny had been far more preoccupied with her little chemistry set and food-making thingies. She'd gotten this gummy-bug contraption one year and had delighted in arranging spiders or other creepy-crawlies in food to freak out her classmates.

On occasion, however, she had dragged Ben into tea parties or playing Barbies. When he'd left for college, Genny had given him her Ken doll, all dressed up in a tux, and said that one day she'd see him wear one. It'd about broken his heart. She was too young, she hadn't known what it meant, so he'd just kissed her and went on his way. College was something few people had ever thought he'd achieve. He'd proven them wrong before, could he do it again?

Setting the invitation back, he grabbed his things and locked up. It was his birthday, and things had just about gotten back to normal, and that was all Ben really wanted, a quiet evening at home. He hoped Rick hadn't planned something extravagant, like a surprise party or anything.

Throwing a leg over his bike, Ben suddenly froze. That feeling was back; sweat beaded his forehead and dripped down his back. His fingers, half into his gloves, trembled and he glanced around wildly, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Shit! He was here! Where? Where was he?

A horn bleeped on Hawthorne and Ben jumped, helmet falling from numb fingers. The crack of the plastic sounded like a gunshot and Ben practically fell over trying to reverse his instinctive swoop to catch it. He huddled against the gas tank, shivering and gasping, pawing helplessly at his pockets for the pills he'd stashed there.

He was back! He was back!

"Stop h-haunting me!" he whimpered, forehead to cold metal, waiting for the vise-like grip on the back of his neck, the harsh whispers and demands. He flinched when headlights fell over him.

Car tires crunched on gravel, stopped. A car door opened and closed. Ben squeezed his eyes closed, panting.

"Ben?"

The voice echoed distantly. Ben hugged himself, listened to those loud footsteps approach.

"Ben, you okay?"

His eyes cracked open and he sat up. Riley stood not five feet away, the street lights in the parking lot shining off his silvery-gray hair.

"Riley?" he asked, unable to keep from making sure. "What ... What are you doing here?"

The car's headlights cast the older man's face into shadow, so Ben couldn't be sure, but he thought his coworker smiled.

"Promised Rick I'd make you go home on time, but I forgot." He shrugged. Then he took a step closer. "You are going home, right? What are you doing out here?"

"I, uh," Ben stammered. "Dropped my helmet. Just a cramp," he lied.

"Oh. You okay?" He'd thought Ben looked pale. "Need a lift, then?"

Starting to shake his head no, Ben paused. "Um, y-yeah, that'd be great. I'd really appreciate that."

Riley smiled and offered his hand to help Ben up. "Don't mention it. And I won't say I told you so."

Making a face, Ben laughed a little. He made sure he had his keys, still unable to keep his eyes from darting around as he got into Riley's BMW. He was out there, somewhere, Ben just knew it.

"Tired?" asked Riley, starting himself when Ben jumped. Riley handed the younger man his helmet, frowning with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

Ben pasted a smile on his face. "Yeah, Riley, fine. I'm just late. Rick's going to kill me."

Riley started the car and pulled out into traffic. "Why don't you call him, then, and let him know you're on your way."

"Oh, no, I'm sure he knows." He'd certainly recognize the stress in his voice, and Ben couldn't let that happen. He'd seen the way Rick looked at him in North Carolina, admiring and adoring. He dreaded seeing that change, and it certainly would if Ben fell apart. He was fine, really. This was all in his head. Will was long gone. Why would he stick around, anyway?

Pulling off his gloves, Ben ran his fingers through his hair and tried to relax. At least, by the time he got home, he figured he'd convinced Riley. Now all that awaited was Rick. He could do this.

Though he looked, he didn't see any familiar cars parked anywhere close, and relaxed a little. The garage was open, so after waving Riley goodbye, Ben walked past the bug to get inside, dropping his things on the workbench as he went by and hitting the switch. He frowned at the collection of doors still leaning against one wall. Rick had put back the front and hall closet doors, and the door to the garage, but the rest remained. He'd even hidden the connector for the hinges so Ben couldn't put them back himself. Asshole.

Going down the hall he heard Rick singing in the shower and smiled. "Don't quit your day job!" He stepped into the bathroom and started to pull off his boots.

Rick peered out of the shower. "You're late." Not that he'd expected anything else.

"Yep. Technical issues." He studied Rick's face, but the man wasn't giving anything away. At least, if he was in the shower, there was a low possibility that a whole mess of people was hiding somewhere.

"Coming in?" Rick invited. He stepped back and closed the door. "I ordered dinner. Should be here soon."

"Um." Relieving himself, he let another knot of tension ease across his shoulders. "Yeah. Sure." He peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower, laughing as Rick jumped at the feel of Ben's cold skin.

Washing up was more play-time than serious business. When Rick stepped out, he stepped into a puddle on the bathroom floor, muttering good-naturedly as he tossed down a towel and gathered up Ben's clothes to toss in the hamper. He stayed in casual clothes and had everything arranged for dinner by the time Ben emerged, in a pair of Rick's sleep-pants and t-shirt.

"Silly," said Rick, kissing him and ruffling Ben's hair.

"So, what's for dinner?"

"They call it urban country food," Rick replied, taking a seat. "Salad --"

"Of course," teased Ben.

"Salmon and rice, grilled eggplant and goat cheese, and Penne, um, Campagnola, zucchini pasta."

"Health food."

"Well, it's not bad. Sit down and eat."

Ben stuck his tongue out, but curled his feet up on a chair and dug in. He popped open his soda and toasted Rick's wine with a laugh and chink of aluminum to glass. He could feel himself slowly unwind, listening to Rick grouch about problems he was having with his lesson plans and wondering what classrooms he'd be assigned.

"I get an office!" he told Ben. "Got an email from the dean today." He grinned happily. "Won't have to be in that converted closet any more."

Ben set his chin in his hands and just watched him. Still damp, Rick's dark-brown hair stood out in messy tumbles, dripping on the collar of his polo shirt. His features were too bold and straight to meet Hollywood's idea of beauty, but Ben liked how openly he wore his heart. He had eyes the color of brown sugar, his heart just as sweet.

"What?" asked Rick, setting down knife and fork, fidgeting a little under that stare.

"Nothing. Just ... thank you." It was just the two of them, and it was perfect.

Rick cleared his throat self-consciously, blushing a little in pleasure. "You're welcome." Shelly was right, so it would seem. "Um, we still going to the beach tomorrow?"

He watched Ben grin, but noted how the softness didn't leave his eyes. His voice rose as he spoke, but his eyes didn't leave Rick's. After a while, he wasn't even listening, just watching his lips moving, face more expressive than usual. Rick didn't get a chance to see this side of Ben very often, but he was beginning to think that Ben was far more romantic and playful than he let on. He always had to be tough, strong, manly, and Rick liked that, but he liked this version of Ben even more. He was so open and young, innocent, even, that Rick just wanted to gather him up in his arms and cuddle him close, like a kitten.

"Hey!" said Ben suddenly, really hearing how quiet the house was. "Where're the beasts?"

"Took them home," answered Rick. "Thought we could have the place to ourselves tonight."

"Oh." He'd almost forgotten that Rick didn't live here. The first thing Rick had done when they'd returned from North Carolina was to bring the cats over, and Ben enjoyed having the little fluffballs around to keep him company. It was strange how empty the house seemed without them.

"You don't mind, do you?" Rick frowned, anxious.

"No. They're your cats." He picked up his fork and poked at the pasta on his plate. "It's just --" He looked up at the empty cat tree where Snowball liked to perch. "I guess I'm just used to them, that's all."

Maybe now was a good time. "Ben, I was wondering ...?"

Ben pushed back his plate. "So, what's for dessert?"

"Tiramisu."

"Ice-cream?"

Rick nodded.

"I'll get it." Hiking up Rick's pants, he went into the kitchen to fetch dessert. It was nice not having to cook, or chew through whatever bizarre concoction Rick considered food. Really, it was amazing that he was in such great shape. How did he do it? If Ben ate like that, he'd look like a dumpling in no time.

When he got back to the table, a parti-colored bag with tissue paper sat by Ben's place. He set down the plates and dug into the paper excitedly. The first thing was, of course, a sickeningly sweet card, signed with Xs and Os. He looked up at Rick to tease, noticed how tense he looked, and turned back to the bag with renewed interest.

"Condoms?" he laughed. He got up to sit on Rick's lap and kiss him. "Aw, is that what you're so nervous about?" Rick had so many of the things, but these weren't exactly what you'd find on a standard supermarket shelf. "This'll be fun," he whispered into his ear. With a sigh, he settled down with his head on Rick's shoulder.

"Um, Ben?"

He sat up. "Is there more? Well, then." His grin turned a little more malicious as he pulled out the lube. "Someone's been shopping with Hunter!" He laughed, shifting his weight on the man's lap and smiling evilly. Excitement burned in his gut as he drew out the last box at the bottom.

He snickered. "Why, Rick, you pick these out yourself?" He wiggled his eyebrows, and dangled the handcuffs so they swung within easy view. "Do you have a kinky side I don't know about?"

"It's your birthday," Rick managed to say without squeaking in embarrassment. "I am, uh, yours to do with as you wish."

The grin widened into a real smirk. "Ooh, Rick, you really shouldn't make promises like that."

"You won't last." Rick threw down the challenge boldly, shifting to ease the tightness in his groin.

"Won't I?" Ben growled. "Ha!" He leaped from the chair, brandishing the cuffs. "We'll see. We'll see."

Oh, God, thought Rick a few minutes later, as Ben teased him wordlessly, sucking ice-cream from his spoon and swirling the dessert in his mouth. What have I gotten myself into? Color erupted on his face, but he refused to give Ben the satisfaction of reaching down and adjusting himself. At least he'd put on one of his older pairs of jeans. They were looser.

Then it was his turn to tease as he cleaned up after dinner. He couldn't concentrate if there were chores remaining to be done, but after the second time Ben sneaked up behind him to pinch his ass, Rick grabbed him by the back of the overlarge shirt and gave him a shove out of the kitchen.

"The sooner you let me finish," he scolded, "the sooner you can get your fun. Go on, light some candles or something useful." Muttering to himself, he got the dishwasher loaded and the extra food boxed up. As he walked towards the bedroom, he turned off the lights, telling himself that he wasn't nervous, but he couldn't help it. He liked to top. He told himself it was dumb, that bottoming didn't make him less of a man, but it still felt like a huge sacrifice.

The kind of men that Rick found attractive were also the kind that expected him to lead. Ben wasn't submissive at all, and usually found ways to direct the action even when trying not to. Rick liked their play, the struggle for dominance, liked even more how Ben looked all feral and aggressive.

His pulse rose as he approached the bedroom and he paused just before entering to catch his breath. The only light came from a nightlight in the bathroom. The radio was quiet, not even the soft sounds of the city coming through the drawn curtains.

Rick let his eyes adjust and drew his shirt over his head, to fold and place on the dresser. The new box of condoms sat open beside the lube on the bedside table and Ben sat in the middle of the bed, naked, turning the handcuffs over and over in his hands.

Rick would never tire of that sight. His face might be young, but Ben's body held the wiry toughness of adulthood and not the soft curves of youth. His tan hidden in the darkness, the soft light highlighted the contours of Ben's muscles. He had one knee up, arm resting on top as he played with the cuffs, hiding his scars.

He looked up as Rick paused at the foot of the bed, his hair flopping forward into his eyes. Instead of the usual devilish smirk, Rick saw a pensive look on Ben's face, instantly flooding him with a different kind of worry.

"B--" he started to say.

Ben's expression hardened, and with a practiced flip, snapped the cuffs around his own wrists.

Rick tensed with Ben, hands clenching into fists, but he knew better to make any sudden moves.

"What are you doing?" he asked, funneling his anger into coldness. Why did he have to keep doing this to himself?

Fists clenched tightly together, Ben forced himself to meet Rick's gaze. "It's my birthday, right?" He had to see how far he could push.

Rick nodded.

"Then we do what I want, and I want this."

"This is crazy!"

"My way," Ben stated, anger in his own tone, knowing Rick could read the underlying fear and hating that he was so easily seen-through by this man. But relieved, too. Rick would know, if not why, exactly, but that Ben needed this.

Rick let out his breath in a loud sigh, forcing his worry and frustration out as well. "Okay," he agreed, "but if I stay stop, we stop. Clear?"

The panic backed down a notch and Ben nodded, biting his lip a little and looking away. Now that the decision was made, he wanted to back out. Was he really ready for this? But if he didn't trust Rick now, after all they'd been through, would he ever? He had to do this, to take this opportunity, or it would be gone forever. He wanted his ex out of his life for good, with no more nightmares. This was a step in that direction.

"Lay down," said Rick softly as he walked around the bed. He retrieved the bottle of massage oil and returned, stopping abruptly as he saw Ben displayed before him, on his hands and knees, ass in the air. Rick couldn't see his expression since he faced away, but he did see the minuscule tremors across the offered skin. His dick told him he was crazy, but he held still until he felt sure he could control himself.

"No, Ben," he murmured, flinching as Ben flinched. He kept his voice as steady as he could. "Lie flat, on your stomach."

Turning his head, Ben stared at Rick for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth, brows drawn tightly together. Was he refusing? He was, wasn't he? No one had ever refused him before, what was going on? Rick was so still, face devoid of any expression altogether.

He trembled, aware that he'd done the wrong thing, worried that he would be punished now, knowing he couldn't take it, not in the current state of things. He worried, because his mind dropped into that old pattern, circling with the question of what he'd done this time and what would happen because of it. He'd counseled enough people with trust issues that he knew what was happening to him and why and he told himself that it was okay, but his fight-or-flight response was equally strong.

He froze, fear rising up to choke him and hateful tears welling up in his eyes. He hated what was happening, hated that he couldn't fight the instinctual reaction, hating himself, hating that he felt like this at all. His jaw clenched up, refusing to even let him beg, something that used to be demanded of him, that he learned to withhold just to be spiteful. Dinner was a cold, unyielding lump in his stomach and he swallowed a couple of times, blinking as he couldn't bring in enough air through his nose.

Then warmth settled on his back, between his shoulder blades, and Ben fell forward, exhausted, breathing deeply. He felt the soft kisses at his temples and sobbed quietly.

"Shh, it's okay, just breathe, it's alright, Ben, I'm here." He stroked down Ben's spine like he would for the cats, firmly but without pushing. Gradually, as Ben came back to himself, his body eased until he rested flat, legs stretched out and cuffed wrists above his head, arms pressed against his face.

Letting him hide, Rick poured oil to warm in his hands. He set into the massage with a will, starting mid-back and going up, then working his way down. The oil made the muscles glisten in the dim light, and the scent was soothing without relaxing to slumberland. He ignored his lover's trembling, as much as it hurt him to see it, and just waited.

Skirting over the injured side, Rick started to knead the lower back and buttocks, and felt Ben move.

He pushed up on his elbows and looked back, frowning. "You've got me in handcuffs, and all you want to do is give me a massage?"

Rick shrugged. "Something wrong with that?" Neither man would admit their reasons. Ben would not because he had yet to come to terms with the abuse he'd suffered in his previous relationship, and Rick would not because he knew that Ben would not hear him.

"You are so fucking weird."

Rick gave him a push. "Just lay still," he said with a grunt, relieved that Ben had recovered his usual bitchiness. That prickly exterior was the only protection he had and, just as he'd used his arms to physically hide, the defensiveness hid the sensitive man he truly was, settling around him like armor.

But Rick knew where the holes in that armor were and he smiled to himself as the handcuffs jingled, Ben wiggling under his strong grip. He slipped between the long, lean legs, leaning forward to rub the tops of the thighs, to pull Ben backwards just a bit so that his knees were bent, legs curled beneath him, weight on his forearms.

"Breathe," he cautioned, as Ben started to hold his breath again, a precursor to hyperventilating.

"Fuck you!" he snapped. He'd known it was too good to be true. No one would just give a massage without expecting any ... anyth -- "Oh! Mmmm! Fuck, God, ah!"

Arm around Ben's waist to steady his partner, Rick grinned, but he didn't stop, following Ben as he pulled forward, grinding helplessly into the mattress, mouth open, but bereft of words. Very little had that result and Rick pressed the advantage shamelessly.

Ben had many faces, but this one had to be Rick's favorite. He liked Ben cursing at him, invited it, even, but what made this so special was in the simple fact that Ben did not let go like this, did not forget himself so far as to relax off his guard.

Giving Ben a kiss on an oily cheek, Rick withdrew. He peeled out of his jeans, unable to stand the restriction with how hard he was, but just tossed them aside rather than folding them. Hidden under the bed was Hunter's other gift. Rick opened the box quickly, glancing behind him to Ben, still sprawled all which-ever way, gasping, eyes unfocused.

Rick had never actually handled a vibrator before. Dildo, yes, and he blushed hotly as the stiff plastic slid out into his hands. Although it wasn't, the thing seemed huge. He dimly recalled Hunter saying to be careful of the care instructions, so he wandered quickly into the bathroom to try and read them, and not looking at himself in the mirror while he did so. These things were not so creepy in novels, damitall!

Uncrossing his eyes with effort, Ben reached down and wrapped finger and thumb around his cock, breathing deeply. He didn't want to finish just yet. He knew as soon as he came, he'd pass out. Fuck! His ass still tingled, little shocks racing themselves up and down his spine. Why had he stopped?

He put out his hands, leaning on hands and knees as his head spun. He could hear the crinkle of paper, just making out Rick's shadow in the bathroom. What the hell?

"Rick?"

"Um, just a sec," he called.

Right, as if he could just let that go. Muttering to himself, he scooted to the edge of the bed and rose, stumbling over to the bathroom and switching on the light.

"Hey!" Rick jumped, both hands going behind his back. They blinked owlishly at each other.

"What are you doing?"

"Um, nothing."

"You know, that might mean more if you didn't look so guilty." He craned his neck, but whatever it was was small enough to keep hidden. "What's so important you had to abandon me like that? I mean, shit, Rick! You had about built up a year's supply of -- hm ...." A semi-unfolded piece of paper caught his eye and Ben paused. "Brownie points," he said softer, a grin teasing the edges of his mouth as picked up the receipt. "Now I know you were out with Hunter."

"What makes you say that?" Rick asked, taking a step back.

"Well, for one thing," laughed Ben, "I have never seen you so red before. For another," he continued, waving the recipt, "I doubt you would've gotten it in your head to go to Freddy's by yourself. C'mon, Rick! You must've gotten more than just condoms and lube!"

"I did."

"Then what?"

"None of your business --"

Ben squawked, "Frederick Dane Wengstrom, you give whatever it is here! Right now."

"I knew letting you go off with Alice was --" Rick began, shaking the vibrator at Ben. He realized what he'd done immediately, turning even redder as the smaller man began to laugh. "... A bad idea."

"That's it? Oh, for God's sake, I thought you at least had whips and chains or something, Jesus Christ!"

"I'll have you know," Rick sniffed, "that it's the top of the line right now. Everybody wants one."

Ben clutched his side, laughing so hard he was starting to hurt. "Oh, God! You and a porn shop, a-and Hunter! Oh, God, I wish I could've seen that!"

"Shut-up, damn it, it's not funny!" Ben only laughed harder. "I had to be in a porn shop, with Hunter! And some guy named Max, too."

"Max! Oh! Oh, fuck, this is too good!" He had to clutch the sink to stay upright.

"Go back to bed," said Rick, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "I'll be there in a sec."

"Porn shop ... Hunter ..." gasped Ben. "You ...!"

"I'm warning you."

"Oh yeah?" said Ben, waggling his brows. "And what're you gonna do -- hehehe -- if I don't?"

Rick forced himself to bring the vibrator back around and shrug. "Oh, I'll just put this back in the box, that's all."

If his hands weren't still cuffed together, Ben would've crossed his arms. As it was, he cocked a hip against the sink and tilted his head. "You even know how to use that?"

There was no way his face could possibly get any redder and yet, somehow, it did, sending Ben into another fit of the giggles.

"I'm sure I can figure it out," he snapped.

Fair's fair, Ben reasoned. If Rick could make fun of him for his trashy romance novels, then Ben could tease Rick about his shyness. "Somebody's education needs finished," he teased in a sing-song voice, waggling a finger.

Rick bridged the distance between them in a single, long stride. Fisting a hand in Ben's hair, he pulled his head back to kiss him soundly, about the only thing he'd ever found that would shut him up good. He backed him up against the sink, grinding ruthlessly against him, stepping back just as abruptly to shove Ben towards the bedroom.

"G'wan," he said, gasping a little and smacking his lover on the rump with the vibrator.

"Ah!" Ben jumped, ineffectually trying to cover his ass. "Hey! You hit me."

"And you have thirty-five more coming."

"Oh, hell no!" Ben bolted for the living room. "Asshole!"

Rick gave a long-suffering sigh, but he smiled. "You're only making this worse," he called, dropping the vibrator in the sink.

"Fuck you!" His voice came from the dining room.

"I'm trying," Rick replied, "but you're being unusually resistant." There was silence for a moment. Rick grinned and stepped out into the living room. "This shouldn't be too hard. You are handicapped, after all."

"Asshole!" Ben hissed. If he didn't know better, he'd think Rick had planned all of this, handcuffs included. Where had he left the keys? He scanned the table, but the finish was unmarred. Rick burst around the corner and Ben dodged into the kitchen and out the other side into the living room.

They circled for a minute or two, laughing, and then Ben made a break for the bedroom, flipping on the light, but his quick glance spied no box.

"Fuck. Ack!" He barely slipped out of Rick's grasp, through the bathroom and into the hall. "Shit!" There was less room back here as Rick straddled the doorway into the bedroom grinning as they feinted at each other, trying to get the other man to commit first.

"HA!" cried Ben, darting back through the bathroom and back before Rick could nab him. "I got the power tool! Hey!" He paused, dumbfounded. "There's no batteries. You fucker! What the hell did you think you were going to do with this?"

Wrapping his arms around Ben's chest, pinning his arms, Rick held on as his lover squealed in surprise and struggled. He whapped Rick's arms a couple times with the vibrator, but dropped it as Rick dragged him back into the bedroom, to toss him belly-down on the bed. Ben kicked and made it almost halfway across the bed before Rick tackled him again and they rolled, laughing, but Rick ended up on top, sitting on the back of Ben's thighs.

He dug the massage oil out from under his knee and dribbled cool liquid down Ben's back.

"Oh!" yelped Ben, kicking.

Rick laughed, digging in his thumbs.

"Ow! Ow, asshole!"

"Well, quit wiggling."

Ben huffed in annoyance, but he went limp. Hurriedly, Rick spun around, slapping that ass.

"You are so dead! You fucker!" snarled Ben, kicking and squirming again.

"That's two; thirty-four more."

Handcuffed, Ben couldn't twist far enough either direction to reach Rick. He grabbed the quilt, hollering invectives as Rick spanked him twice more, but the man's thighs only tightened the harder Ben struggled, digging into his ribs and he had to stop, grunting a little with discomfort.

"Ah!"

Rick took the opportunity to slide and sit higher up on his back. "Thirty-one. Thirty. There, now we're even."

"You are such an asshole!" Ben howled. An oily finger traced up his crack and he shivered, biting back a moan.

"That's kind of the idea," said Rick, smirking. "Isn't it?" He rubbed a little harder and this time the moan couldn't be held back.

"Ohh, I'm soo going to -- oh, God -- kick your ass. Mmm."

"Uh-huh." For all their horsing around, Ben still felt loose and relaxed. Rick lifted a little. "Roll."

Ben turned on his back with a soft whimper that made Rick grin again. He slipped to the side, running his hand down the injured side in a soft caress. According to the docs, Ben was healing very well, but they still had to be careful. He tossed a condom at Ben and swapped lube for massage oil. The key was there, too, but he ignored it for the moment.

He claimed pouting lips before Ben could snap at him, running his hands over the muscled chest, crouching over him to keep the weight off, and then working his way down. When he sat between the long legs once more, he unwrapped the condom and slipped it on. He picked up Ben's legs and reached for the lube.

"Wait, Rick, the lights." He smirked as Rick leaned slightly to get a look at his face, to see if he was serious. "Trust me."

With a sigh, he rose and padded over to turn off first the light in the bathroom, and then the bedroom's overhead light.

"Hurry up," Ben called. He sighed as Rick slid back in place. "See?"

"Huh." The condom did in fact glow a little.

"What are you waiting for? Fuck me already! Shit, R-Rick!"

"Like that?"

"Ass-ss -- mmm!" He panted a breath or two, waiting for his body to adjust. "Asshole."

"Yeah, yeah." Looking down, Rick could see himself slide in and out of his lover, the sight unexpectedly erotic. He groaned. While he couldn't bend Ben so far as to kiss him, Rick caressed any skin he could reach.

"I'm not ... oooh! Fuck. F-fragile, you know."

"Yes, you are, now be still."

Handcuffs jingled by Rick's ears as Ben thumped his shoulder. "Fuck you! Oh! Fuck-fuck, shit!" He dug in with his heels, arching his back as his hands fell to his cock. "Oh, God yes!" Two, three, and a half strokes and he was falling. He fell back, hands above his head, staring at the stars in his eyes. "Oh, fuck, yeah."

Rick froze mid-stroke, but he couldn't turn back time. The orgasm already upon him, he shuddered, coming near-silently and falling forward. Catching himself on his arms, he stared down at Ben's closed eyes and slack lips. He recognized that languorous sprawl, knew that the stress and exertions of the day had his lover mostly asleep already. He usually resisted orgasms for exactly that reason.

"Ben?" he whispered.

"... Mmm?"

Rick sighed. Relinquishing his body, Rick rose and tossed the used condom, coming back with a warm cloth to clean the worst of the spatters, dropping the washcloth in the hamper. He rolled Ben under the covers and sat beside him to unlock and put away the handcuffs. Leaning down, he kissed the spot on Ben's cheek with the scar, the one shaped like a gecko. Time in North Carolina had repaired his tan, but the scars stood out as white as ever.

Ben rolled onto his side, arm grasping, a little frown appearing on his face. Climbing over him, Rick hugged the smaller man close, smiling a little as Ben latched onto his side, as if determined to prove he was part octopus.

Staring up at the ceiling, Rick whispered, "Love you, too, Ben. Love you, too."