| Title: Forget The Bet Series: The Bet Author: Jo & Brenda Pairing: Ben Roethlisberger/Matt Hasselbeck Rating: NC17 Summary: After the 'rematch', Matt and Ben Disclaimer: Never happened, isn't happening now. Notes: On October 7th, 2007, Pittsburgh and Seattle played against each other for the first time since Super Bowl XL. Pittsburgh shut the Seahawks down, 21-0.
He shakes Shaun's hand, searching the crowd for any sign of Matt. And schools his features into the proper aura of professionalism when they finally meet on the field. The handshake is brisk, the hug short, but Ben, who (with good reason, he tells himself) considers himself an expert on Matt, knows immediately that something is wrong. Seriously wrong. He swallows the joking remark he'd been about to make, and leans in for another half-hug, lips next to Matt's ear. "What is it?" "Not now," Matt replies, the words clipped. Then he pulls away and disappears into the crowd. Ben frowns after him, but Willie thumps him on his back in celebration and the moment is lost. There will be plenty of time after the post-game euphoria to find Matt and get the story out of him. Everyone else has cleared out, but Ben knows that Matt is still in the locker room. Knows because Shaun had just looked at him, then had jerked his head towards the door as he'd walked past. And judging from the sound of things, the clean-up crew is going to have a hell of a time later. "Fucking interception in the damn end zone," Matt says, aiming another water bottle at one of the lockers. Ben leans against the door, arms crossed over his chest, and watches for a moment before stepping into the room. "Should I come back?" Matt lowers his hand, and the bottle drops harmlessly to the floor, rolling under a bench. His shoulders sag, and, as much as Ben loves winning, especially against Matt, he hates the furious, defeated look in Matt's eyes more. "No, you're fine," Matt says, and sinks down on the bench, still dressed in his jersey and pants. Ben takes the seat next to him, but keeps his distance. He knows Matt's temper well enough by now to know it can flare up without warning. "So..." Ben stares at his hands, then rubs them on his jeans. His first instinct is to crack a joke to ease the tension, but something tells him it would be a Very Bad Idea right now. "Yeah, so." He watches out of the corner of his eye as Matt hangs his head. "Coach fucking benched me." "I saw." "Benched me. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've been benched?" "A while," Ben replies, eyes sliding to watch Matt. "Yeah." Matt's voice is full of disgust and he shoves off the bench to pace. Back and forth, back and forth. Ben's head swings to watch him. "Had a chance to tie the damn game and get some momentum back, and I threw right to your boy. In the fucking end zone." "Happens to all of us." "Didn't happen to you today," Matt spits out, and aims a kick at the defenseless water bottle. Ben watches it sail across the room. "No, but I got sacked three times," he says, quietly, eyes shifting back to Matt. "Took the first one, too." "Well, that's just great, Ben, what are we, comparing now?" "No." "Good." Matt jabs a finger in Ben's direction. "Because I don't need you to try to make me feel better." Try to be sympathetic, and see where it gets you. Ben tamps down on his own temper, and tries for level-headed. A shouting match won't change a damn thing. "Well, I'm not the one that intercepted you, so I don't know why you're so pissed at me." Matt shrugs. "You're here." "Oh, that's mature," Ben says, unable to keep the words from slipping out. He stands, rubs a hand across the back of his neck. "Feel like taking being benched out on me, too?" "What?" "Go on, take a shot." Arms spread wide, Ben just stands there. His gaze doesn't waver. "The fuck are you talking about?" "First one's free," Ben says, voice still low and even. He doesn't move, doesn't tense up. "Make it good, man, because it doesn't matter how much I love you, if I have to beat this mood out of your ass, I will." "Are you for fucking real?" Matt just stands there, looking at Ben like he's lost his shit. Hell, maybe he has. "You want to get into a goddamn brawl in the middle of the season?" "No, dumbass, I don't." Ben throws his hands up in disgust. "But I also don't want you moping all fucking night on one of our rare nights together during the season, either. You lost today, and I'm sorry about that, but not that we beat you. So, either take your shot or do something else to get it out of your system." "Do..." Blue eyes glint with something Ben can't define. Then they blink slowly. "You took the first sack." So. Alright. Ben nods, unable to hide the hint of amusement that creeps into his gaze. "I did," he says, sinking to his knees and looking at Matt across the length of the room. He rakes his eyes down Matt's body, smiles slowly. "Lost that bet," Matt murmurs. He strolls towards Ben, long fingers already tugging at the laces of his pants. "Yep," is all Ben says, chin up, eyes fastened on Matt's. Then he feels the caress of Matt's cock against his cheek, and he opens his lips in anticipation of what's to come. This isn't how he'd wanted Matt to collect this part of their bet, but he's not going to object, either. Anything to get Matt focusing on something else. He flicks his tongue out, curls it along the underside, and goes straight for the kill. Takes Matt deep, lips a tight suction, bracing his hands on Matt's hips for balance. Matt's first shocked grunt is music to Ben's ears. Then Matt pushes forward, and Ben concentrates on the task at hand, on making Matt feel good, on the thick, familiar feel of Matt's cock down his throat. "Fuck," Matt breathes, voice already rough as he drops his head forward to watch Ben. Ben just smiles, starts to hum, butting against the fingers that curve across the back of his skull. A shiver runs up his spine as Matt's thumb slips up to rest on the scar across the top of his head. "Ever tell you how much I love your mouth?" Matt murmurs. His breath stutters in the silence of the room as Ben moves, cheeks hollowing with the force of his suction, and strong hands slide down to curl around Matt's thighs. "Second you went down, I thought about this," Matt continues, then groans again when the head of his cock hits the back of Ben's throat. Ben smiles inwardly – he'd thought the same thing after the first shock had faded from being slammed into the grass – and hums again, tongue sliding in time with every bob of his head. It doesn't take long at all before he can hear the tell-tale hitch in Matt's breathing, and he tightens his lips, quickly swallowing as Matt spills down his throat. Ben's not sure he'll ever grow to like the taste of come, but he's found if he's quick about it, the taste doesn't make him want to gag quite as much. Shame he can't talk to any of the girls he sometimes sees about it. Matt drops back on the bench, pants still around his knees, and blinks rapidly, looking somewhat dazed. Job well-done, if Ben says so himself. "Better?" he asks, and gets to his feet, ignoring the twinge in his knees from kneeling on a concrete floor. Before Ben can fully straighten, Matt's hand darts out, curls around his bicep to pull him down for a lazy kiss. "Better now," Matt says, husky voice going straight to Ben's cock, and smiling as he finally releases his grip on Ben's arm. "My knees and I are glad to hear it," Ben teases, returning the smile with a grin of his own as he sprawls onto the bench beside Matt. "Hey, I didn't tell you to do that here," Matt drawls, not looking a bit apologetic. His shoulder bumps Ben's, and he grins. "Yeah, well, I wasn't willing to let you pout until we got to the house." "I wasn't pouting." "Bullshit." "I was pissed." Ben waves a hand. "Manly pouting is still pouting." Matt opens his mouth, then closes it. "Manly pouting?" "Yeah, that's what my sister calls it," Ben shrugs, and bumps Matt's shoulder again. "Get showered, man. I'd rather not spend the rest of the night in the visitors' locker room, if it's all the same to you." Scratching his chin, Matt eyes Ben and grins. "Don't suppose I can talk you into washing my back for me." "Fuck off," Ben laughs. "Already showered." "So you don't want me wet then?" Ben shakes his head, chuckling. "My shower at home's better for what's going through your head." "I could wait to shower, then..." "Fuck no, you're not stinkin' up my car," Ben laughs, and points to the showers. "Seriously, man." "Can't smell all that bad, I didn't do anything," Matt replies, but he doesn't sound as murderous about it as he had earlier. Which is progress. Ben just cocks an eyebrow and stares until Matt rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going. Fucking worse than a woman." "Yeah, well, unlike a woman, I can kick your ass, so hurry it up before the Roethlisberger Express leaves the station." "Like you'd leave without me," Matt calls back, tossing his jersey through the door at Ben. "I might," Ben says, snagging the jersey out of the air and dropping it into the laundry bag so the Seahawks crew can get it later. He looks up when a head pokes through the outer door and laughs as he sees Hines standing there with his eyes closed tight. "I'm dressed, he's showering, you're safe." "Boys are going out for a drink," Hines says, eyes still squeezed tight. "Supposed to tell you you're welcome to bring the enemy if you insist on fraternizing." With that, he ducks back outside. "Huh," Ben mutters, and stares at the door, wondering just when his personal business became common knowledge. Then he heads into the shower room. He watches appreciatively as Matt scrubs a soapy hand across a sculpted chest. "Hurry up and I'll get Willie to buy you a beer." "Why's Willie buying me a beer?" "I dunno, maybe he feels bad?" Ben says, leaning against the door, not even bothering to hide the fact that he's ogling Matt's naked ass. "Hey, who, uh, who on your team knows? About us, I mean?" Dipping his head under the spray, Matt shrugs. "Shaun," he says, shaking water from his eyes before glancing over his shoulder. "Fucker eavesdropped on a phone call one night. Deion might. And Mike, only because I can't lie about where I am to the coach, y'know. Why?" "Uh..." Ben shifts his weight, but his eyes remain glued to Matt's ass. And the trickles of water that are sliding down it. He swallows, tries to remember what the question was. "Oh. Um, Hines knows..." "And?" Matt shuts off the water, and reaches for one of the towels on the rack. Ben thinks very hard about his grandmother, fluffy bunnies, and the latest plays he has to memorize before his meetings tomorrow, and not about the droplets of water racing down Matt's chest. "Huh?" "What about Hines?" Matt asks, and wraps the towel low around his hips. "Oh." Ben snaps his attention back to the conversation. "I dunno, just feel weird about him knowing, I guess." Matt cocks his head and stands there for a moment, searching Ben's face. "You ashamed of us?" "What? No!" Ben shakes his head, all thoughts of Matt's near nakedness shoved out of his head by the mere idea. "Just, y'know...the whole damn team doesn't need to know my business. Believe me, the fact that I set off the metal detector in the airport now gives 'em enough ammo." "You think Hines'll tell the whole team?" Ben watches as Matt strolls closer, distracted by the water still beading on his skin. "He won't," he says, after a long moment of watching a drop slide down and cling to Matt's nipple. "But Troy will." "Troy knows?" One eyebrow goes up. "If Hines knows..." "Fuck 'em," Matt shrugs, and steps closer. His lips brush against Ben's in a dry, warm caress, and Ben automatically opens to the kiss, hand sliding along Matt's side. When Matt lifts his head, his eyes are alight with mischief. "Since when've you cared about gossip?" "I don't. I just don't know that I like what I do when I'm not on the field being public fodder." "Well, the quickest way I've found to get people not to talk about it is to threaten detail," Matt grins. The words sink in, and Ben lets out a booming laugh. "You sly fucker," he grins, and presses a hard, hot kiss to Matt's lips, then steps back before he goes a lot further than he thinks either of them want to go right now. "Comes from working with Shaun," Matt says, deadpan, as he strips off the towel to dry the rest of his body. Leaning against the wall, Ben watches him, make a soft noise of appreciation as Matt stretches before rifling through his bag. "So which phone call did he hear, anyway?" Matt just smiles and pulls a pair of black jeans up to hide what Ben swears are the best thighs in the league. His voice is muffled as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. "I'll just say that I didn't have to threaten him with details." One of those calls, then. Ben's not too sure if he'll be able to look Shaun in the eye for awhile. "Oh," is all he says, and Matt grins. "Yeah. I don't think he probably wanted to know that much about your –" "I don't wanna know, I really don't," Ben quickly interrupts. "Get your shoes on, and get your gear. I'm gonna go, I dunno, stick my head in an oven or something." Matt's laugh, bright and clear, echoes through the room and lifts the fine hairs on the back of Ben's neck. "Don't think he really wanted to know how much I love it, either," he adds, as he wraps his arms around Ben's waist from behind and nuzzles the back of his neck. "Evil bastard," Ben mutters, but he leans back into the caress. "See if I get Willie to buy you that beer now." "You will," Matt says, giving Ben's ass a swat before pulling away. Then he pauses, half-bent to grab his shoes, and gives Ben a considering look. "How scandalized d'you think they'd be if I kissed you in front of 'em?" Ben's sure Matt's bluffing. Mostly. Somewhat. Alright, so maybe Matt's not bluffing, considering their history, but still. "Um..." He clears his throat to buy some time. "I, uh...in public?" Matt, the little shit, looks far more amused than Ben thinks he should. "Yeah, in public, idiot." "You want to?" As long as they've been together – going on two years now – the idea of the two of them being all friendly and what have you in front of other people has never come up. Not once. "Maybe," Matt replies, and slings his duffel bag over his shoulder. "I mean, I'm not talking about going public on ESPN or anything, but it might be nice to just...be open or whatever...y'know, around our friends." "We're not open or whatever around our folks, and they've known for over a year." "Yeah, well, maybe it's time we changed that." "You really think so?" Ben considers it, fingertips scratching at his chin as he looks at Matt. Normally, he can read Matt like a book, but right now? Not so much. "Yeah." A half-shrug, but Matt's gaze never wavers. "Just tired of hiding it from the people who care about us." "You don't think..." Matt shakes his head, hitching the bag a little higher and stepping in front of Ben, so close their chests almost brush. "No, I don't," he murmurs. "Hell, most of 'em have known something was going on for months. If it was me, I'd be insulted." When the man had a point... Ben thinks about his teammates, his brothers on the field, and how much they trust each other during practice and games, and nods. "Yeah, alright. I get you. But..." Ben skims the backs of his fingers across Matt's stubbled jaw. "I ain't exactly a PDA kinda guy." "Me either," Matt smiles, and there's something in it that loosens the small knot in Ben's chest. The kiss is soft, easy. "You know we'll scar them for life, right?" "It'll be good for 'em. Character-building." "You can tell 'em that," Ben grins, and holds open the door. "C'mon." "I'll wait until after Willie buys me that beer before I tell him." Matt winks, obviously enjoying Ben's shout of laughter as they head down the hallway. "Ben's here," Willie yells, voice carrying across the bar full of players. He looks at the door again, shakes his head. "And he brought his boyfriend with him!" "Oh, God, tell me they're dressed," Hines says, one hand clapping over his eyes as cat calls roll through the room. Matt rolls his eyes and nudges Ben, looking for all the world like a little boy who's about to put a frog down his sister's back. "We are, but we can change that if you're wanting to watch, man." "Hell no!" Hines shouts back, and cracks an eye open. "Behave or I'll set Troy on you." "Eh, he's injured, he don't scare me," Matt replies, and slides into one of the empty seats. Ben takes the seat beside him and, after taking a very deep breath to settle his nerves (what the hell is he doing, anyway, this isn't like him), he drops his hand lightly over Matt's. The silence is absolute, but only lasts a moment. "Finally admitting it," Willie nods, rocking his chair back on two legs and studying the two of them. "'Bout damn time." "Ditto that," Troy concurs, and salutes them with his overflowing beer mug. "I feel like a bug under a goddamn microscope," Ben groans, shaking his head. "And if you guys're gonna continue to talk about me like I'm not here, the least you owe me is a drink." "Ben said you'd buy me a beer," Matt says, tipping his head at Willie and grinning. "Oh, he did, did he?" Willie snorts as his chair drops back to four legs. "Alright, but he's buying the next round." "I am?" Ben looks around, trying to ignore the fluttering under his skin as Matt's hand twists beneath his to lace their fingers together. "What?" "What you get for not being honest with us before now," Troy says, leaning forward to stab a finger in Ben's direction. Dark eyes shift to Matt, and Troy grins. "You believe he actually thought none of us knew after you dropped everything to fly out here last summer?" "I wasn't in much shape to deny anything," Ben protests, and nods his thanks when Hines sets two mugs in front of him and Matt and resumes his seat next to Troy. "Yeah, but you didn't admit anything, either," Hines says. "How dumb you think we are, man? Even Antwaan asked." "Antwaan knows?" Ben groans. "Fuck, man, may as well alert the entire damn league." Matt laughs after taking a swallow of his beer. "Ben, man, seriously...I told you that Shaun knew." "Shaun knows?" Troy choked on his beer, prompting Willie to whack him between the shoulderblades. "Fuck, man...you ain't got to worry about Antwaan telling anyone!" "Wait, you told Shaun, but this crazy motherfucker wouldn't tell us?" Hines gives Ben a disgusted look. "Where's the love, man?" "He didn't tell Shaun shit," Ben says, after swallowing his sip of beer. "Shaun, uh..." "Eavesdropped on a phone call and got more than he bargained for," Matt finishes. "Say no more." Hines holds his hands out, as if to ward off Matt's words. "Hold on." Troy's smile holds so much wicked glee that Ben's surprised not to see devil horns peaking from his curly mop of hair. "Shaun caught you two having phone sex?" "Apparently," Ben says. "Man, this beer is excellent. Don't you guys think this beer is excellent." "Stop trying to change the subject, you're crap at it," Willie says. "For real, honest to God phone sex?" "Don't answer that," Hines says, with a pained expression. Ben's certain his matches it. "Real, honest to God phone sex," Matt says, and he doesn't look the least bit embarrassed. In fact, his grin practically matches Troy's. "Pretty graphic phone sex, too. In fact, I think we were in the middle of –" "Hey, whoa," Ben cuts in, positive he's flushed to his hairline. "Who wants another beer?" "You still got half yours left," Troy points out, still grinning wide. "And Matt's hardly touched his." "Much as it pains me to take Ben's side on anything off the field, if you three keep it up, I'm gonna have nightmares for a month," Hines states, giving Troy his what Ben knows is his best glare. "Normally I wouldn't care about that, but I think we're bunking down together in Denver," Troy replies. "Last thing I need disturbing my beauty sleep is you shrieking about those two doing the anal rumba." Ben opens his mouth. Closes it. Blinks. Matt, of course, lets out the biggest laugh on the planet, like Troy's funnier than South Park or something. Even Willie gives Troy an impressed look. "Anal rumba?" "What, you never heard the expression?" "Uh. No. Can't say I have." "Huh." Troy shrugs and drains his beer. Ben decides that getting plowed is the best idea in the history of ideas and slams his own beer, then signals their waitress for another round. "Just remember," Matt says, sliding a hand into Ben's pocket and snagging his car keys, "you asked." "I didn't," Hines retorts, holding up both hands in denial. "It's these freaks here." "Who you calling a freak?" One hand reaches out, connects with Hines' shoulder, and Troy glares over his mug. "Like you weren't curious," Willie says, with a snort as the waitress returns with fresh mugs. "Not that damn curious." "And I appreciate that, Hines," Ben says, and clinks his beer mug against Hines'. "I'm thinking we need a few shots," Willie says, and winks at Matt. "Properly celebrate trouncing your ass again, and to celebrate you two sweethearts giving us the public love." "Public love?" Ben has a horrifying vision of Matt sliding under the table. "Boy, you gotta one-track mind," Troy laughs, and Ben figures what he's thinking has to be showing on his face. "You have no idea," Matt winks. "Like you're any better," Ben grouses, squeezing Matt's fingers. "Never claimed to be," Matt points out, with a smirk. "Line up the shots, Willie. I'm man enough to toast your win." "That's what I'm saying!" Willie motions for their waitress, orders a round of tequila, and Ben just shakes his head. "Hope you plan on staying somewhat sober," he murmurs, leaning in until his lips almost brush Matt's ear. "Seeing as you stole my keys." "If I don't, we'll just call Carlee." "Fuck that, man, I'm not giving her that kind of ammo," Ben replies, and presses a quick kiss to the nape of Matt's neck. "We'll cab it." "Fine by me," Matt smiles, and Ben returns it, the rest of the room falling away until it's just the two of them. Matt had been right (as usual, not that Ben would ever tell him that) – it's nice just sitting here with his friends, knowing he doesn't have to watch his every move or word. Willie rubs his hands together in glee when the waitress swings back by and deposits the shots on the table. "Drink 'em up, ladies, we got a long night ahead." "Speak for yourself," Ben answers, holding his shot glass up and clinking it against everyone else's in an impromptu toast. "I got plans later." "You do?" Ben returns Matt's puzzled look with an exaggerated leer. "Yup," he says, and slams his shot back, smacking his lips as the tequila burns his throat. Matt blinks, then quickly slams his own shot, shaking his head against the burn. "Thought we agreed the bet would be over the bye week," he mutters, then closes his eyes when Troy leans forward, eyes wide. "Bet? What bet?" Willie signals for another round of shots. "You crazy kids betting on the game?" he asks, and makes a tsking noise in the back of his throat. "Not exactly," Ben replies. The two beers and the shot are starting to do their magic – he's a lot more relaxed now. And while he's not entirely inclined to share too much with the boys (he really is a private sort most of the time), he can't resist the opportunity to get a little bit of his own back. "Not exactly?" "Ben..." "Matt..." Ben replies, in the same drawl. He picks up his new shot glass, downs it, and this time, savors the burn. Too many more, though, and he's liable to embarrass himself. "Although betting on the Super Bowl is how we got together." "I'm sensing a story," Troy says, and leans forward. "It started because your boy here is cocky," Matt says, laughing softly as he downs his second shot. He drapes his arm across the back of Ben's chair, fingers slipping through the short hairs at his nape, and smiles. "Think I earned it," Ben shoots back, head tipping forward ever so slightly. "That's what Tom said." "Wait, you got Brady involved?" Even Hines sits forward at that. "Fuck, man, we couldn't keep Tom out of it," Ben scoffs, eyelids fluttering at the feel of delicate fingers on his skin. "You know what a Boy Scout he is." "Yeah, but what's he got to do with the Super Bowl?" Willie asks. "Nothing, but he was there when we first met." Troy holds his hands up in a t-position. "Time out, man. What the fuck are you two talking about?" "How we got together," Matt says, and drags his thumb just under the collar of Ben's shirt. "How we met," Ben corrects gently, and smiles his thanks at the waitress when she comes back with another round. "The bet – which is how we got together – was made during Press Day." "So tell us about this bet," Troy says after he slams his shot and bangs the glass down on the table. "And stop distracting him." "I'm not doing anything," Matt protests, with a laugh, thumb pressing lightly against the vertebrae in Ben's neck. His fingers splay along the back of Ben's skull, kneading gently. "The bet," Hines says, tapping the table for attention. "Thought you didn't want to know the details," Willie laughs, swallowing the last of his beer before picking up his shot. "Shut the fuck up, man." "Anyway." The third shot goes down like butter. "Because our first meeting was, uh..." "Less than successful," Matt supplies, and Ben beams at him. "Right," he continues, "less than successful. We weren't on the best of terms." "Okay, and?" "And so when we met again on Press Day, I kinda challenged him to a friendly bet." Matt's fingers are magic, and Ben is all but melting under the gentle caresses. "24 hours." "The bet was 24 hours?" Hines and Troy look at each other in confusion. "24 hours of the losing person's time," Matt clarifies. "If the 'Hawks won, Ben would have been at my service, and vice versa." "So, you were betting on being the other's bitch," Willie says. "Yeah, pretty much." Hines grins at Matt. "Glad we won, then." "Why?" Matt asks, and his expression is so innocent that Ben chokes on his beer. "I wasn't betting to be your bitch." Troy and Willie howl with laughter as Hines sputters. Ben just buries his face in his mug, grinning, and figures Matt's doing well enough on his own. "So you, uh...no, I really don't want to know," Hines says, shaking his head. "They lost, he lost, and he paid up like a man," Ben says, grinning, eyes half-closed as Matt continues to rub light fingers along the back of his neck and skull. "Of course, I did get my own back at the Pro Bowl," Matt says, his voice a low hum that vibrates along Ben's spine. Hell, he must be on his way to drunk if he's starting to wax poetic about Matt talking. "Ben's never played the Pro Bowl," Willie points out. "Nah, I just went to get lei'd," Ben replies, and waits for the pun to sink in. Once the laughter dies down, Matt picks up the thread of the story. "He bet, double or nothing, now, that the AFC would win the game." "Wait, so you had to be his bitch for 48 hours?" Troy's finger wagged from Matt to Ben and back. "Damn, boy, you're pretty dumb." "He not only bet --" "-- and lost," Ben grumbles, but he's smiling as Matt chuckles. "And lost, but he also paid up like a man." Matt pauses for a second, watching as their eyes widen and dart to Ben. "And wasn't there a grass skirt in there, too?" "The grass skirt was you, dude," Ben replies with a grin. "That's what you get for not believing I'd fly out." "I was stone cold asleep when you called." "Not my fault that you make bets in your sleep," Ben shrugs. "You two're worse than a married couple," Willie decides, with a sad shake of his head. "Who's up for another?" "Last one," Ben says, and inwardly shivers when Matt rakes his nails across the back of Ben's neck. "Plans, remember." "I thought we'd said bye week." Ben gives Matt a level, long look. "I don't mean bet plans, I just mean plans." "Oh." Ben can't help the pleased smile when Matt swallows and nods. "Plans." "Don't you have an early flight?" Hines peers at Matt as the waitress returns with another round of shots and beer mugs. "Yep," Matt says, sipping at his beer. His fingers continue to slide along Ben's nape. "I can sleep on the flight." "Just remember Ben's got meetings tomorrow," Troy added, with an unholy grin that has Ben groaning into his mug. "Boy don't need to be falling asleep in 'em." "He's young," Matt says, winking, leaning up just enough to fully drape his arm around Ben's neck, and there's a moment where Ben wonders if Matt is going to kiss him right here. "Lots of stamina." "I don't need to know, I don't need to know." "Sure you do, Hines," Willie laughs. "It's important for an athlete to have stamina." "Not off the field, I don't need to know," Hines counters. Ben takes advantage of the squabbling to lean closer to Matt, lips an inch away from Matt's ear. "Paying for this later, you know." He can see Matt's smirk out of the corner of his eye. "We'll see." Before Ben can react, Matt turns his head just enough for his lips to brush over Ben's. It's not a real kiss -- more an accident than anything -- but it's enough to have Troy and Willie hooting and Hines yelping. "Definitely paying." Matt arches an eyebrow, flashes a calm smile. "Haven't done anything bad enough to warrant payment." His smile lingers, arm tightening almost imperceptibly around Ben's neck. "Yet." "It's the yet that worries me." "Hell, it's the yet that worries all of us," Hines states, and Ben laughs as he clinks his shot glass against Matt's and downs it. "Like you ain't done far worse in front of us with the sweet young things that hang around the stadiums," Willie replies, cuffing Hines across the back of the head. "Yeah, well, that's different." "I think it's cute," Troy grins, and Ben groans. "Great, now I'm cute." "Nah, cute is for puppies and high-school cheerleaders, not baby lions," Matt teases, and Ben just shakes his head. "'Sides, I've heard about your rep, man, so I'm sure Hines has seen you do worse." "With girls," Hines mutters, then looks up when the rest of them laugh. "So?" Toying with the empty shot glass in front of him, Ben grins at Hines' obvious squirming. "So, it's different." The weight of Matt's arm across his shoulders is comfortable, and Ben leans into it as Matt sits up straight and pins Hines with a direct look. "So tell me how it's different." "Oh, no, man, no debates about gay rights tonight," Willie says, probably, Ben thinks, to stave off the argument they all know is brewing. "I ain't gay," Ben says, cradling his beer mug. "I would hope not, with the way you are around women," Troy winks. "That bad?" Matt casts a sidelong glance at Ben. "Anything I should know?" "Not unless you feel like swapping stories." "Later," Matt murmurs. He sits back, and Ben breathes a quiet sigh of relief. "Neither of us is gay." "Not saying you are," Hines says, looking as if he's trying to hide behind his mug. Willie snorts, but doesn't say anything, and Ben can see Troy rolling his eyes. "Good." And why Ben thought Matt was going to let it go that easy is beyond him. He starts to say something, but Matt holds up a hand. "'Cause if you got a problem with me and Ben, maybe we oughta get it cleared up now while we're all just drunk enough to be honest and still sober enough to not bust up the bar with a brawl." "Matt..." "No, it's alright, Ben, I got this." Hines leans in, looking far more serious than Ben's seen him look in a long time. His gaze never wavers from Matt's. "I ain't got a problem with you and Ben. I don't care what you two get up to behind closed doors, because it ain't none of my business, and as long as it don't affect his work on the field – which I can't see that it has – then you two could move in together and get married and adopt Britney Spears' kids for all I give a shit. But that don't mean I want to watch you two go at it in my presence, and if you got a problem with what I'm comfortable with, that's your thing. I can't apologize for who I am." "No one's asking, man," Ben says quietly, wondering when the hell the light-hearted evening had taken such a left turn. For a long moment, Matt just looks at Hines. Then he nods. "Fair enough. I won't flaunt it, but don't expect me to not touch him in front of you. Think everybody here knows I'm not big on public displays, so what you've seen tonight is about as far as it'll ever go." The way Troy's and Willie's eyes dart between Matt and Hines is almost comical enough to make Ben start laughing. But he tries to keep his gaze focused on Hines, hoping this isn't going to become an issue. Hines returns Matt's even gaze with one of his own, and signals the waitress for two more shots. He doesn't say a thing as the glasses are set on the table, just reaches out to take one, sliding the other in front of Matt. It seems to Ben like the entire table holds its collective breath until Matt and Hines both drink their shots and slam the glasses down. He breathes a sigh of relief as Willie claps them both on the back. "You two made up now?" "I don't think we were ever fighting," Hines grins, then winks at Matt. "And I sure as hell ain't kissing him." "That'd be my job," Ben replies, then blinks at his own remark. Okay, definitely had a little too much to drink. "And you're damn good at it," Matt says, with his own grin, looking way too amused. "Well, he does have a rep," Troy says, with a sly grin, then ducks away from Hines' hand swatting at his head. Willie just laughs. "Think you better take him home," he says, nodding his head in Ben's direction. "Sounds like the boy wonder's had a shot too many." "Ain't the only one," Matt says, tossing a few bills on the table before he stands. He pulls Ben up, and it takes a second for Ben to be sure the room isn't going to spin. He waves goodbye and, to his own surprise, curls his hand comfortably in Matt's. When Matt raises an eyebrow at him, he just shrugs. "Cab, I guess?" "Well, I'm not driving, and you sure as hell aren't," Matt replies, and squeezes Ben's fingers. "I'm sure we can catch one outside." "Good idea." Ben nods, already planning on having Carlee drive him back after Matt leaves in the morning. He starts towards the door, taking careful steps, when he's brought up short as Matt plants his feet. "What --" Everyone around them bursts out laughing when Matt, with a wink and a grin, bends down and plants a loud, wet kiss on the top of Hines' head. "Night, ladies." "Better get before Ben gets jealous," Willie grins, and makes a shooing motion. Hines just rolls his eyes. "Nah, no reason, Hines ain't as pretty as me," Ben says, and, amidst a fresh burst of laughter and catcalls, tugs Matt towards the door. The day had been unseasonably warm, but with the sun just sinking over the horizon, there's a sharp bite to the air that carries with it the promise of fall and colder weather. "Nice night for just staying in," Ben remarks, and holds his hand up for a cab. "Thought that was the plan," Matt replies, and slides into the back seat, tugging Ben with him. "It is," Ben murmurs, and lets himself be tugged. His hand falls to rest easily on the top of Matt's thigh, and Ben smiles as the muscle flexes beneath his fingers. "Worried for a second there." Matt's soft laugh huffs across Ben's ear, making him shiver. "Don't be. Just didn't want him being a dick to you later." "He, uh, he wouldn't." Concentrating's a bitch at the moment, but Ben gives it his best shot. "Too good of friends for that bullshit." Matt's hand drops on the top of his. "Good." "Although, I will say it's real cute that you're aimin' to be my knight in shining armor." "Ain't all I'm aimin' for," Matt murmurs, lips skimming Ben's jaw, fingers tightening over Ben's to slide them a little higher. "Oh?" The breath catches in Ben's throat, and he swallows hard as those lips start to nibble at his earlobe. "Mmhmm..." "What, uh..." A moan threatens to slip free, and Ben ruthlessly suppresses it. But, damn, Matt's lips should be declared a hazard to his health. "Um...what else were you aiming for?" Another quick nip, then Matt pulls back. "Oh, a little of this, a little of that, you know how it goes." "No, not really." Actually, Ben has no idea what Matt's talking about, but then, as horny as he is at the moment, Matt could be speaking Greek. "Well, then," Matt says, chuckling as he curves a large hand along Ben's jaw. "Why don't we play it by ear...?" "Um..." Ben swallows, shifts on the seat in an effort to ease the tightness of his jeans. Like he's supposed to be able to think with Matt's hands on him. "Um, okay?" "Good." One last caress, and Matt drops his hand. Ben's not sure if he should feel relieved or disappointed. Then Matt looks out the window as the car rolls to a stop. "Looks like we're here." "Yeah, looks like." Ride hadn't felt that long, but then, Ben's been distracted, what the hell does he know. He pays the cabbie, and snags Matt's hand, tugging him out of the car and towards the front door. "If I didn't know better," Matt says, as they stumble up the walk and bang against the front door, "I'd say you were impatient." "Something like that," Ben mutters. He fumbles with his keys, finally gets the door open, and drags Matt inside, only to reverse his actions and slam Matt against the door in a savage kiss. Matt opens automatically, tongue snaking out to duel with Ben's and, yeah, this right here is pretty close to perfect. He can taste hops and tequila in the kiss, acrid and a little sweet, and delves deeper, wanting more. One of his knees wedges between Matt's, drags up, and when Matt digs sharp nails into his shoulders, Ben moans his approval. Feels like it's been forever since he's been able to do this. "Fuck," Matt breathes, teeth catching Ben's bottom lip. His hands snake under soft cotton and shove Ben's shirt up to his ribs. "God, yes..." Ben dives back into the kiss, one hand securely wrapped around the back of Matt's neck as they shift against each other, Matt's groin dragging along Ben's thigh with each twist of their bodies. There are too many layers between them, when all Ben wants is skin on skin and Matt coming apart in his hands. "Need...upstairs..." Another sharp kiss, another sharp nip of teeth "...naked." "I like naked." Matt pushes Ben back towards the stairs, and drags at Ben's shirt, flinging it on the floor. Ben tries to navigate his way backwards and get Matt's shirt off, and they go stumbling into the railing, amid Matt's soft laughter. "Gonna injure yourself, and Mike'll kill me," Matt says, and bats Ben's hands away, making short work of his shirt. "Just get to the bedroom before you kill us both." Mouth suddenly dry, Ben steps in, palms sliding along the planes of Matt's chest. He smiles when Matt groans softly and tips his head back, eyes closed. Part of him is tempted to say to hell with the bed -- it's too far away, he's too horny, the sofa will do just fine, thanks -- but he swallows the words and takes another step, sealing his lips over Matt's as his hands drop to Matt's waist and tugs him forward. When their bodies are flush together, the kiss gentles, the alcohol once again taking the edge off the need and the now that had almost overwhelmed them in the cab. "Could spend the rest of the night doing just this," he murmurs, mouthing at the skin under Matt's jaw. "Sounds boring when we could, uh, be, uh, be having..." Ben grins when Matt loses his train of thought and just groans. "Didn't say I was gonna, just that I could." His smile softens when he lifts his head, sees the need reflected in clouded blue eyes, and words, so often unneeded or wanted, bubble to the surface. "You know I love you, right?" "Yeah, I know." With a puzzled, but pleased-looking smile, Matt cups Ben's chin. "What's this about?" "Just want you to know," Ben says, voice soft, dropping his hand to nuzzle Matt's palm for a brief moment. "The girls and all...yeah, there've been a few --" "You worried I'm jealous?" White teeth flash in a smile, and Matt's thumb moves to rest over Ben's mouth. "You think I'm not picking up a girl here and there when we're not together? Man, I knew you had a rep as a pussy hound before I let you fuck me the first time." "I'm not that bad," Ben frowns. "I mean, shit, Matt, I'm young and –" "Young and famous and cocky," Matt interrupts, and nibbles quickly on Ben's lower lip. "I know. And I don't give a damn. Used to be young and cocky myself." Ben pastes on his most serious expression. "And now you're just old and cocky. I understand." He almost laughs when Matt's brows furrow. "You just call me old, boy?" "You started it." A hand comes up to lightly cuff Ben across the back of the head. "Be the one to finish it, too, you keep that up." "Yeah, yeah." Ben crowds in, savoring the heat of Matt's body against his. His lashes flicker, drop, and he smiles as Matt's fingers start stroking the back of his neck again. "There you go with those big promises." Matt snorts softly, head tilting to nuzzle Ben's jaw, tongue rasping over stubbled skin. "Don't care about the girls, Ben. Hell, you can even tell me about 'em." "Uh...I dunno about that." Ben lets his head fall back, rubs against Matt, half-savoring the moment, half-wishing they were naked already. "Weird enough just talking to you about what we do together." "You do alright, far as I'm concerned." "Thanks." Then Ben tugs Matt up for a slow kiss. No place else he'd rather be than right here. By the time Matt lifts his head again, they're both breathing heavy. "It's mutual, you know," Matt says, and Ben just stares at him, completely lost. Then Matt smiles, skimming his knuckles over Ben's jaw and neck. "I love you, too. Since we're being drunk and sloppy." "Can't we be drunk and sloppy and naked?" A plaintive note creeps into Ben's voice, but fuck, man. He's horny, and Matt's right here. "So damn impatient," Matt murmurs, and his fingers skim down Ben's stomach to pop open the button on his jeans. That's more like it. Those same fingers ease down the zipper, slide inside to brush through crisp hairs, and Ben's hips buck forward. "Guess I'll just have to get you over that weirdness." "Huh?" Blinking, Ben takes a deep breath, unable to get enough oxygen in his lungs as Matt's fingers finally slide down far enough to curl around his aching cock. "Nevermind," Matt murmurs, and his lips cover Ben's as he starts a slow, maddening slide. Ben has no idea what the hell Matt's talking about, but he really doesn't care. Matt's hand is around him (finally), they're kissing, Ben's working on getting Matt's jeans off, and it's all gravy. "Off," he murmurs between kisses, and shoves at worn denim until, with another laugh, Matt pushes his hands away, and steps out of the jeans. "Better?" "Duh," Ben replies, and finishes kicking off his own jeans, then stepping back in, mouth slanting over Matt's. The kiss is hard and hot, both of them fighting for control, and the entire time, Matt's hand continues to glide along Ben's length. "Don't think," Matt murmurs when they finally separate for air, "gonna make it upstairs." "Good idea," Ben says, and starts to push at Matt until they tumble onto the sofa. It's only their agility that keeps them from spilling onto the floor. And Matt, God bless him, never stops his stroking. "Your turn," Ben manages to get out between kisses. "Hmmm?" "Your turn." Ben pushes at Matt's shoulders, body buzzing with lust and need. "Threw the first interception." Matt's laughter warms Ben's entire body. "I guess I did." Another slight push on Matt's shoulders. "Better pay up, then," Ben murmurs, and grinds up, rubbing against Matt in slick friction. "Guess I should." Matt grins, wide and wicked, and presses a hard kiss to Ben's lips. His hand slides to the base of Ben's cock, fingers forming a snug ring, and then Matt starts to lick a path down the center of Ben's chest. Each slide of his tongue is like liquid fire, and he's barely reached crisp hairs before Ben is arching up, head back, both hands cradling Matt's skull in a not so subtle attempt to guide him. Ben's all for teasing and shit -- hell, he and Matt have spent hours doing just that to each other -- but right now, he may kill someone if he doesn't get off soon. "So impatient..." Ben growls when Matt licks another teasing stripe on the crease of his thigh and not where he needs it. "Did I tease you?" "Good point." Then Ben's back completely leaves the cushions when Matt takes him deep with one swallow. His moan is strangled, inarticulate, and he can just feel Matt's smirk as a soft tongue curls around him and Matt starts to move. Fuck, but Matt's tongue is a gift from God, man, and Ben is all too happy to say a prayer of thanks. His hands stop guiding, fingers caressing smooth skin that has just the faintest hint of stubble. Each slide of Matt's mouth has Ben arching, hips snapping up as Ben seeks more. Then Matt starts to hum as he takes Ben deep, fingers sliding up to meet his lips with each bob of his head, free hand sliding up to cradle Ben's balls. Ben holds to his control by a fingernail, wanting to draw this out, wanting it to last, wanting enough to get him through to next weekend. Then he stops thinking altogether and just drifts, placing himself completely in Matt's hands, knowing Matt will take care of him. He has no idea how long he lasts – minutes, hours, days, doesn't matter – but when he does finally come, it's with Matt's name on his lips, and the overwhelming feeling that he really is exactly where he's meant to be. His limbs, jelly-like in the aftermath, refuse to work, so he lies back, mumbling something he hopes is encouragement as Matt slowly works his way back up Ben's body. Feels nice. Really nice, even. Ben decides he's going to give Matt a year to stop. "Better?" Matt murmurs, eyes twinkling as he props up and smiles down at Ben. Ben just hums and smiles in response, eyes half-closed. Then Matt's fingers skim over his torso, along his hips, and Ben can feel his body twist in response. He's just come, man, but when those delicate touches glide down the inside of his thigh, he starts to get hard again. "Like I said," Matt says, with a soft chuckle. "Lots of stamina." "Lucky for you," Ben murmurs, skimming his hands along Matt's arms. "I'd say both of us." "Whichever." Ben doesn't know why they're still talking when they could be doing far better things, so he lifts his head and gives Matt a thorough kiss to try to steer him back in the right direction. "Kinda like you like this." Matt's laugh is low and wicked, and he reaches across Ben's body for the bottle of lube they both know is in the end table. "Like?" He probably won't like the answer, but Ben knows he has to ask. Though, if Matt's other hand keeps sliding over his body like that, he's not going to remember the question. "All soft and cuddly," Matt says, with a wink, dropping the bottle by Ben's hip and reaching up to smooth his hand over the head of Ben's cock. "Not --" The words are silenced by Matt's lips, and Ben groans into the kiss, one hand clamping tight around the back of Matt's neck. Then Matt's hand slides up, slick with lube, and Ben pretty much forgets that they were talking about anything. "C'mon," he manages to bite out, then Matt's tongue is there, pushing past his teeth, and he welcomes the invasion, groaning in appreciation. A moment later, Matt pushes down, and the groan dies in Ben's throat. Every single time he's inside Matt, Ben swears it's better than the last time. Sometimes he wonders how the hell he'd ever lived without this. Matt lets out a low hiss as he settles completely on top of Ben, rotating his hips in slow circles. "One day..." "One day," Ben promises, and lifts his hips to meet the downward shift of Matt's. Fuck, but Matt's still got the tightest ass known to man. "Deal," Matt murmurs. His hands find Ben's, pull them up until they're pinned to the sofa above Ben's head. Then Matt smiles, starts to move. Ben groans, deep in his throat, and pushes up. His hands tighten on Matt's just shy of hard enough to bruise -- it's always in the back of their minds to not damage the hands -- and heavy-lidded eyes watch Matt's tongue dart out to slide over his lips. They move together in perfect rhythm, perfect harmony, Ben shifting every time Matt grinds down, flexing his fingers against Matt's. Matt lowers his head, kiss sliding into kiss, and Ben loses himself in sensation, once again gives himself completely over to Matt's care. "Never enough," he whispers, marking Matt's lower lip with a quick slide of teeth. "Not even close," Matt replies, and sits up, muscled thighs bunching on either side of Ben's as he rises and falls, taking Ben deep. Best thighs in the league, man. Ben untangles their fingers, slides his hands along Matt's thighs. He's rewarded by a low growl and Matt's skin pebbling beneath his fingers. Eyes on Matt's, Ben shifts one hand, curls it around Matt's cock and starts to stroke, hand moving in time with each rise and fall of Matt's body. "Fuck," Matt breathes, and his head tips forward. His thighs tremble a little, but he keeps moving, and Ben knows he's close. "Come for me," he murmurs, fingers tightening, wrist flicking. "C'mon, now..." It takes a few more strokes of his hand and a slight angling of his hips, but Ben smiles, entranced by the faint flush that spreads across Matt's cheekbones when he gives himself over, come spattering across Ben's stomach. "Damn pretty," Ben murmurs, and pushes up one last time, a hoarse cry escaping his lips as he comes deep inside Matt. Matt slumps over him, mouths at his neck, and Ben raises a weak hand to pat at Matt's back. It's all the movement he's capable of. "You just call me pretty?" "Huh?" Matt rises to one elbow, using the back of the sofa as leverage. "Did you just call me pretty?" "Maybe?" Ben wracks his brain, but all he remembers is a pleasurable haze of heat. "Should beat the hell out of you for that." "Can't take what a man says in the heat of passion seriously, Matt." "That so?" One eyebrow arches, and Ben is immediately on his guard. "Uh...yeah?" "So I should discount everything you say in the heat of passion?" That eyebrow is still up, and Matt's smiling now. No way Ben's stupid enough to fall for that one. "No," he says, quickly, flashing Matt his most charming smile. "Not everything." "Good." "Besides," Ben adds, giving Matt what he knows is his most lethal smile, "you really are pretty when you come." Matt cuffs him on the shoulder, and rolls his eyes as he climbs off the sofa to stretch. Ben stays where he is and watches the show. "You keep that up and you might not get to see it again." "Whatever," Ben replies with a lazy wave of his hand. "You can't get enough of me." Matt's still for a moment, then he shrugs and nods. "Yeah, well, maybe, but I've lived without you before." "See, but that was before you knew me." Matt shakes his head and holds out his hand to Ben. Ben takes it, and lets himself get pulled off the sofa. "Still as cocky as ever." Ben flashes a grin, and drops a quick kiss to Matt's lips. "Damn straight I am." "Thought about it last summer, y'know," Matt says, softly, eyes intent as he watches Ben. "About..?" Ben's got a good idea what Matt means, and it sends a chill down his spine. Without really thinking about it, he reaches over to curl his fingers around Matt's. "Living without you." Matt shrugs, gives Ben's fingers a light squeeze. "Not something I like to think about much." "So don't," Ben replies, softly, stepping closer. He thinks he might do just about anything to avoid seeing that look in Matt's eyes. "Right here, man, and I'm not going anywhere. Too stubborn to die." Matt's smile at the joke is small, but it still eases Ben to see it. "You must be, man. Can't think of any other reason for you to be here." Ben shrugs and takes another step, chest brushing against Matt's. "Maybe I'm still here because of you. Ever think about that?" "Yeah?" Matt's smile is a little more real now, a little easier, and Ben can't help but respond to it. "Yeah," he murmurs, tugging at Matt's hand until they're flush against each other. "Can't tell you what it meant to wake up and see you sitting there, man." "Yeah, well..." Matt dips his head, shrugs, and his smile loosens something tight in Ben's chest. "Crazy bastard," he laughs, tugging Matt in for a light kiss. "Flying across country like that 'cause I wrecked my bike." "Well. It was a nice bike." "Asshole," Ben laughs, and their lips meet again in another kiss. "Yeah, I am, but you love me." "I must," Ben replies, and starts pushing Matt back towards the steps. "But I'd love you a lot more if we were upstairs in bed." "Oh?" Matt moves, but he takes his time, looking over his shoulder as he starts up the steps. "Got something in mind?" "Told you earlier I had plans tonight." "That's right, you did. Care to share these plans?" "And warn you?" Ben laughs and hooks a hand over Matt's hip, encouraging him to walk faster. "Like hell."
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