| Title: Hedge Your Bets Series: The Bet Author: Jo & Brenda Pairing: Ben Roethlisberger/Matt Hasselbeck Rating: NC17 Summary: Matt flies home after a losing game. Disclaimer: Never happened. Notes: Takes place the night of the Seattle Seahawks vs. Chicago Bears game on October 1, 2006. The Seahawks lost 37-6.
Shaking his head again and trying to put it out of his mind, he unlocks the door and lets himself in. Ben's asleep (hopefully) and, with any luck, he won't wake up when Matt slides into bed. Holding on to that thought, Matt drops the bag by the sofa and heads upstairs. The house is quiet, floorboards creaking slightly as he makes his way to the bathroom, shedding clothing as he walks until he's in nothing except his faded boxers by the time he gets to the sink. He's so worn out that brushing his teeth and splashing water on his face feels like a chore, his arm a dead weight, thigh muscles trembling with effort. Hell, not even like he played that damn hard - but getting the hell knocked out of you by a bunch of big, burly guys wearing pads never gets any easier. It's games like this - disasters like this, if he's honest - when he wonders if being a carpet salesman wouldn't be a better career choice. How much stress could they possibly have? "You've looked better." Matt winces at the familiar, groggy voice, and braces himself on the sink for a minute before looking into the mirror. Ben, slouching comfortably against the bathroom door, wearing nothing except for stubble and a yawn, blinks back at him through the reflection. So much for sliding into bed and not moving until tomorrow. "I don't want to talk about it right now," Matt says, voice quiet and dull. He meets Ben's gaze in the mirror. "Don't think I've ever..." Ben pauses to yawn, blinking in the bright light, "...seen you play like..." "I really don't want to talk about it," Matt says again, turning and leaning against the counter. It's all he can do to stay upright, he's so exhausted. "Alright," Ben finally murmurs, studying Matt with sleepy eyes. Then he holds out a hand. "But we're talking about it in the morning. C'mere." Matt holds Ben's gaze for another moment, before he drops his head, defeated, and turns. He's too tired to argue. Instead, he shuffles over, feet dragging over cool tiles, until he's in front of Ben. Ben snags his hand and pulls him closer, and yeah, it's weak of him, but he goes willingly into a warm, strong embrace, battling the urge to drop his head on Ben's shoulder and let out all of his frustration and anger. "Thanks," he says, instead, voice rough, hands splayed comfortably on Ben's lower back, taking comfort in the warmth of Ben's arms. "For what?" Ben asks, smothering another yawn as he peers into Matt's eyes. "Not arguing." Ben smiles, and shrugs, then drops a light kiss to Matt's shoulder. "Figure Mike already gave you 18,000 shades of shit, why add to it tonight. C'mon, you look dead on your feet." "I feel worse," Matt mutters, ending the words with a yawn. He lets Ben tug him into the bedroom. The bed looks extremely inviting, and right now, Matt just wants to curl up beneath the blanket and around Ben. "Not gonna be any better at practice. Mike threatened two-a-days this week." "Been there," Ben says, laughing softly as he remembers Bill's vehement threats after the lopsided loss to Jacksonville. "Glad you're here." Matt manages a tired smile, not resisting when Ben pushes him into bed. "Expecting you to return the favor next week." "Nah, you guys'll win," Matt replies, with a crooked smile as he wiggles a little, getting comfortable on cotton-soft sheets. "Your mouth to God's ears." Ben crawls into the bed, and Matt immediately rolls to his side, throwing an arm over Ben's waist. Not that he thinks that Ben's going anywhere, but it won't hurt to make sure. "Still flying down, right?" "Long as Mike doesn't chain me to the field, I'll be there," Matt promises, then yawns. Ben's hand feels good running over his arm. Matt thinks he might give him a year or so to stop. "Good," Ben murmurs, brushing a light kiss across Matt's lips. "S'nice..." Matt smiles, eyes closed, and scoots in closer until they're pressed together from chest to knee. He puckers up, then frowns when Ben laughs. "Thought you were tired." One eye opens, and Matt peers at Ben. "I'm never too tired to kiss you," he says, then closes his eyes and smiles when Ben's lips touch his again. "Such a romantic," Ben smiles. Matt balls a fist, lightly punching Ben's arm. "Shut up." "Gladly." Ben's lips meet his again, tongue flickering out in invitation, and Matt parts his lips on a sigh, relaxing into the kiss. Already, the weight of the game and the very long flight home are starting to fall away. "Definitely don't feel too tired," Ben murmurs between kisses. One hand slides down Matt's side, over the line of his hip. "Mmm..." Matt hums into the next kiss, tongue curling along Ben's, body shifting to rub against warm, bare skin. "But why're you wearing these?" Ben continues, plucking at Matt's boxers. "No clue," but Matt obligingly lifts his hips so Ben can slide them off and toss them to the floor. "Much better," Ben states, and presses Matt into the mattress, smoothing a hand over Matt's hard, eager cock. "Definitely," Matt agrees, voice trailing off in a soft sigh. He's too tired for much, but Ben's hands feel like heaven on his body. His hands slide up Ben's arms, over his shoulders, and Matt tugs him down for another kiss. Ben smiles as his fingers close around heated flesh, start to move in slow strokes. He smiles again when Matt makes a sound deep in his throat. "Want you," Matt whispers, fingers tracing the lines of muscles down Ben's back. "Of course you do," Ben chuckles, teeth scraping a wet path over Matt's shoulder. "Ben..." There's enough of a warning in Matt's growl that he knows Ben'll take the hint. "Matt," Ben grins, and flicks his wrist in some wildly obscene manner that has Matt clutching Ben's shoulders. "Don't make me beg...not tonight..." "Shhhhhh..." Ben soothes him with another deep, toe-curling kiss, and Matt relaxes into it, trusting Ben to take care of him. "Grab the bottle," Ben murmurs against his lips, then urges Matt's head back so he can lave small kisses to Matt's throat. One hand fumbles at the night stand. The bottle almost ends up on the floor before Matt's fingers close around it. "Hurry," he rasps, body arching up off the sheets as he presses the bottle into Ben's hand. "Shhhh..." Ben's voice is soft in the dark, his touch light on Matt's skin. Part of Matt is amused at how easily Ben opens the bottle with one hand, but then, he figures he's had a lot of practice. "Ben..." "I've got you," Ben murmurs, slick fingers probing gently as his other hand keeps up the maddeningly slow pace. Matt answers by arching his back, throat bare, sweat trickling from between his shoulder blades. He presses down on Ben's fingers, impatient, needy, and when Ben presses deep, the burn is welcome. Last year at this time, he'd barely been aware of Ben (aside from one very memorable occasion at some charity event), and now, he can't imagine not wanting this. "Gonna relax?" Ben murmurs, adding a third finger, twisting deep. "Let me take care of you like you did me?" "Fuck...Ben..." He's lucky he's not exploding from need, and Ben's expecting an answer? "Could do this all night," Ben whispers, lips moving against Matt's ear. His fingers slide deep, rubbing against Matt's prostate. "Yes," Matt moans. He's no longer sure what he's agreeing to, but he doesn't care. He arches again, seeking more, breath catching as Ben's fingers ease from his body. "Yes..." Then Ben's cock is there, replacing his fingers, pushing forward slowly, and all Matt can do is wrap his legs around a lean waist and try to pull Ben deeper. "So good," Ben murmurs, the sound a low hum vibrating across Matt's lips, and he eagerly lifts his head, seeking more. "C'mon...c'mon..." The chant is broken, ripped from someplace deep inside of him as he digs his heels into the back of Ben's thighs, moves with every hard thrust inside his body. "Every time...so fucking tight..." Every word is punctuated by another thrust, Ben's hips driving Matt into the mattress. "Need..." Matt can't put it into words. "Shhh...I know," Ben whispers, voice low and raspy. He thrusts again, slow and controlled, nipping at Matt's bottom lip when strong fingers dig into his shoulders. He pauses when he's fully inside Matt, hips flush against hips, and Matt groans when Ben starts to move again. Matt does his best to move with Ben, hips rising and falling in time with each of his movements. Their lips meet, cling together, each kiss timed with Ben claiming him, thrusting deep. Matt digs his fingers into Ben's shoulders, careful not to leave nail marks, and murmurs something indistinct, chests pressed tight together. "So good," Ben groans, goatee scratching at Matt's throat as he pants out each breath, each thrust deep and assured. "Fuck," Matt whispers, arching up into the next thrust. His thighs clamp tight around Ben's hips, trying to hold him in each time he pulls out. Ben just huffs a laugh against Matt's shoulder. One hand slides between them, curls around Matt's cock. Each thrust of his hips is punctuated by the snug glide of his fingers along Matt's length. As tired at Matt is, he knows he's not going to last long - not with the way Ben is destroying him from the inside-out, not with the way his fist is gliding tight over Matt's cock. He gasps out Ben's name, lifting his head for a hard, messy kiss, sliding his hands down Ben's sweat-slick back to cup his ass, hold him in place as Ben rotates his hips, then thrusts deep again. Matt can feel Ben stiffen above him, and that's all it takes for him to come. Matt murmurs something, lashes fluttering as he fights to open his eyes. It's no use. Exhaustion crashes into him, and he lets himself drift in the afterglow, sated and warm as Ben's weight presses him into the mattress, smearing come and sweat across their skin. He can feel Ben's breath, warm against his ear, as he tries to suck air into lungs that don't want to work. "Feel better now?" Matt chuckles, the sound weak, breathless. He drapes lazy arms across Ben's shoulders. "Hell yeah." "Magic touch," Ben says, and Matt can feel the smile on his skin. "Magic something." Unable to help himself, Ben laughs. "Well...yeah." He props up on one elbow and winks at Matt. "And you love it." "Me?" Matt blinks, then pastes a far too-innocent expression on his face. "Nah, I'm just here for the sex, man." "Happy to fuck you whenever you want," Ben grins, and rolls out of bed, back popping as he stretches. Matt rolls to his side and enjoys the view. "Nah, you love my cock in your ass too much." Ben shrugs, the motion deliberately big. "I plead the fifth on everything." "Uh huh." "Don't get too ahead of yourself." Ben stops at the door to the bathroom and gives Matt a long look. "You're too tired to pin me down, anyway." "Yeah, but there's always tomorrow," Matt smirks, then yawns. "Don't take too long, alright?" "I won't." Ben watches for a moment, noting the way Matt's words are starting to slur and how difficult it seems for him to keep his eyes open. Then he nudges the bathroom door closed. By the time he re-emerges, Matt's sprawled on the pillows, sound asleep. He doesn't move at all, not even when Ben cleans him up with a damp washcloth. Matt immediately curls around him when he crawls into the bed, and Ben places a soft kiss to Matt's forehead. "Still talking about the game tomorrow," he murmurs, and smiles, eyes closing. He's looking forward to the argument.
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