| Title: Reunion (And A New Bet) Series: The Bet Author: Jo & Brenda Pairing: Ben Roethlisberger/Matt Hasselbeck Rating: NC17 Summary: Matt and Ben meet up, two months later. Disclaimer: Never happened, isn't happening now. Although Ben was in Rancho Mirage for a golf tournament last month. Notes: Because sweill wanted Speciall Hell fic for her birthday, and who are we to refuse her?
The clubhouse at the golf resort (some swank place that imports grass, land's sake, with landscaping so crisp you could cut bread with it) is posh and imposing, with mahogany paneling, tasteful art on the walls, and filled to the brim with the crème de la crème of WASP society, all dressed in their Sunday finest, enjoying the impressively tricked out buffet. Lobster tails with butter sauce, filet mignon, crab cakes, brie cheese, champagne...and all Ben wants is a Bud and some chicken wings and his sofa, with NASCAR on the telly. He pastes a smile on his face at Senator Cromwell's very bad, and off-color, joke, clutching his small glass of punch (not even spiked) in his meaty hand. He feels about as out of place here as a hooker at a 4H meeting. His tie's about to strangle him already, and his suit itches, or maybe it's that he's bored, shit, he doesn't know, doesn't care. He's just ready for the afternoon to be over. Handing his invitation to the porter, Matt looks around. Swanky place. Inside, the hostess greets him and points out the buffet. Nice. Only problem is she didn't point out the bar. Ah, well. He'll find it on his own. Starting a slow circuit of the room, he lets his gaze sweep over the crowd. Looks like your typical big 'event' -- all stuffed shirts, too much makeup, and everyone trying too hard to impress people who, frankly, don't care. Then... Oh, hello, and now the fun can start. Matt grins to himself and stops in a spot where he's sure to be noticed soon. "...And then I said, well, now, Kitty, I'm sure that's not what he meant..." Senator Cromwell's wife drones on, nodding like one of his bobble-head dolls, only with a bouffant hairdo as opposed to a helmet (but then, Ben thinks they might be the same sort of thing), and Ben is officially the most Desperate Person Alive. A flash of silver catches his eye from across the room and he glances over, then freezes, his polite reply stuck in his throat. Matt... Not just Matt, either, but Matt all decked out in Hugo Boss, looking elegant and at ease among the hoi poloi, threading his way through the crowd to the bar at the other side of the room. Matt, here, and suddenly, the evening just got a fuck of a lot more entertaining. He wonders if Matt knows he's here. Matt places his order, and then lounges against the bar. He's pretty sure that he's been spotted, if the way Ben went suddenly tense is any indication. Poor kid looks a little desperate, and Matt can't help but smile. Then the bartender slides his scotch across the bar, and Matt flashes her a wide grin. Now to see...yes. Ben's definitely spotted him. Weren't expecting to see me, huh? Matt smiles again, to himself this time, and watches Ben from the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry, could you excuse me?" Ben says, hoping his smile will take the sting out of his interruption. But, honestly, if he'd had to wait until she'd taken a breath, he'd be here all night. He accepts the pats on the back, the hearty offers of congratulations, as he makes his way across the room. The world around him ceases to exist as his entire world narrows to Matt, lounging at the bar, flirting with the bartender like he hasn't got a care in the world. He rests his elbows on the counter, giving the bartender his widest grin. "Gin and tonic, please," he says, and lets his gaze flicker over Matt -- every muscled and lean inch of him, from his polished shoes to his freshly shaven head -- for a long, timeless moment. "Hello, Matt." It's been a long two months. Matt looks over, fakes his best wide-eyed look. "Ben, man," he says, clapping Ben on the back and smiling. "Good to see you." Ben stumbles a half-step, caught off-guard. Good to see you? That's all he gets after two fucking months? "Yeah," he frowns, accepting his drink absently. "Good to see you, too." "See the senator's wife had you cornered," Matt says, barely able to hide the grin of unholy glee that threatens to erupt at Ben's expression. Poor kid. "Didn't think this was your scene." "It's, uh, it's not. You know that." Ben glances up, brows drawn together in confusion, and his frown deepens at the way Matt's looking at him, blue eyes alight with mischief. What the hell...? The bartender is eyeing the both of them with undisguised curiosity, and now that Ben's paying attention, so are a few people in the crowd. Probably hoping for bloodshed. Vultures. It's then that Ben notices that Matt hasn't moved his hand. It's still resting, comfortable and warm and familiar, on his lower back, thumb moving in minute circles. Matt flashes the bartender a smile that's just this side of bland, and winks when she flushes. Probably giggle if he flirted with her. Then he refocuses on Ben, picking up his scotch to take a sip. "Suit looks good on you," he says, finally letting his eyes rake over Ben's body, trying not to think about peeling him out of that suit later. Matt's thumb continues to move, and he knows that the observant will be furiously whispering the second they leave. "Thanks." Ben might be a little clueless as to why Matt's here, and why he's acting like he is, but his body has no problems whatsoever reacting to the rough promise in Matt's voice. Ben coils in response, and he flirts a lazy, sidelong look in Matt's direction. "So does yours. Nice, clean lines." "Thanks," Matt says, letting the grin slip out a little. "Publicist and all that." His hand tightens a little on Ben's hip before falling away. Then Matt leans in, pitching his voice for Ben's ears alone, and says, "Plan on sticking around long?" And, just like that, Ben's back in Hawaii, on his knees, ocean breeze drifting through the open balcony door as Matt circles him, hand moving lazily over his cock as he tells Ben, in graphic detail, how he's going to fuck him. "Matt..." he growls, low and desperate, clutching the bar railing like a lifeline. "Looking a little flushed there, kiddo," Matt says, but his eyes are dark, and his own breathing is far from steady. His arm casually brushes Ben, and Matt smiles, even as he wonders exactly what Ben is thinking. "Need to get some air?" Ben nods, not trusting himself to speak. All he can think about is yanking Matt forward by his tie and claiming those smirking lips in a kiss. Damn him, anyway. Two months, and all it takes is the slightest contact to have him behaving like a high school sophomore. Matt's smile is wide and wicked, and he curls his hand around Ben's arm just above the elbow. "C'mon," he murmurs, doing his best to act the part of concerned and sympathetic friend. He wonders if Ben even notices that they're heading for the back entrance and not the front. Ben tries for a deep, calming breath, and only partially succeeds. It doesn't help that Matt's got him in a possessive grip, leading him down a long, dark corridor. But, thankfully, the crowd of people is behind them. "Missed you," he murmurs, leaning, just a little, into Matt's hold. "Did you now?" Matt smiles again and stops right at the door. "How much?" "Enough that I've almost caught a couple of planes to Seattle in the past two months." He places emphasis on the last two words -- he's not sure why. Maybe it's because Matt's here and real and solid beside him. Finally. "Long time." Matt smiles again, softer this time, and slides one hand behind Ben's neck. He likes the way Ben's hair curls softly over his knuckles. "Should've got on the plane." Ben arches into the touch, the whispered words, stepping closer, driving them deeper into the shadows. "Coulda come out to see me." "Two months," Matt whispers, forehead resting against Ben's. "Wasn't sure of my reception." "Me either," and it's the easiest thing in the world to tilt his head, brushing his lips over Matt's, soft and dry and warm. He slides his hand along Matt's arm, feeling the tense coil of muscle, wishing that they were someplace private so he could strip off layers of clothing and get to bare skin. Far too fucking long, man... Matt angles his head, gives himself over to the kiss. Ben's tongue slides along his, and he chases it, tasting gin and tonic and that flavor that's wholly Ben. When he finally pulls back, he keeps his eyes closed and smiles. "Feel like getting outta here?" Ben's laugh is low, rich with satisfaction and lust. "Hell, man, I was ready to leave before I even got here. Why...you got a better idea on how to spend the evening?" "Thought we might get reacquainted," Matt drawls, loving the way Ben's smile lights up his face. "Right after I get you outta that suit." "Sounds real nice." Ben steps in again, pressing against Matt, so close he can feel each breath, each heartbeat. "Gonna be another two months 'fore we do this again?" he murmurs, brushing the words across Matt's lips. "Fuck no." One hand is busy, dropping to Ben's waist to tug his shirt from his slacks. It's only when his palm is resting against Ben's bare stomach that Matt fully relaxes. "Too fuckin' long." "Yeah, it has," and this kiss is world's away from the first. Ben surges into it, attacking Matt like he's at 4th and Goal, sweeping in with his tongue to lick at the roof of Matt's mouth. A soft growl escapes, but Matt's not sure which of them it came from. Doesn't matter. All that matters is that he's here, Ben is here in his grip. Matt pushes up into the kiss, just as reckless and wild, thinking yes and finally. "C'mon," Ben says, when he's regained the power of speech. His voice is ragged as he pushes forward until his crotch is rubbing against Matt's. "Need t'leave now before I fuck you right here." Matt can't help but laugh. "No lube. C'mon." "Didn't stop us in Hawaii," Ben grumbles, but reluctantly, slowly, steps back. He feels bereft without Matt's heat pressed against him. "We had our own suite in Hawaii," Matt points out, trying not to laugh at Ben's sulky expression. "I'll drive." "You will, huh?" One eyebrow lifts. "You wanna drive?" "Depends on where we're going." Way Ben feels right now, they're gonna need a lot more room than a damn suite at some hotel. And he's rented a place for the month. "Sounds like you gotta destination in mind." Matt smirks, raking his eyes over Ben, and then tosses the keys. "Lay on, Macduff." "That Shakespeare?" Ben asks, neatly catching the keyring. He pushes out the door, not bothering to see if Matt's behind him. He knows Matt'll follow. "Smart man," Matt says, fishing out his sunglasses and sliding them on as they start across the parking lot. He's got no problems following Ben. It's a hell of a view. "Well, I did go to college." Ben stops, studying Matt in the dying light of the sun. "No more running," he says, soft and serious. "Either of us." Matt takes a deep breath and looks down. When he looks back at Ben, he slides off the glasses. "Wouldn't be here if I was running." Ben nods. "Just so we're on the same page." He smiles, then, as the pieces finally fall in place. "You came here for me, didn't you? This wasn't a coincidence." "Well, that took you long enough," Matt laughs, and he feels like the weight of the world has just dropped from his shoulders. "You don't think I'd come to one of these things otherwise, do you?" "Well, I had to come to it, so I thought..." Ben shoves his hands in his suit pockets to keep from reaching out to drag Matt to him. Most infectious laugh on the friggin' planet. Then he grins. "Flattered you finally got your act together." "Yeah, well." Matt shrugs, then rubs the back of his neck and flashes Ben a rueful grin. "Finally realized that some things are worth it." "Good." And fuck it, really, he could care less if the world's watching because, really, what're they gonna do? He steps forward, pulling Matt into his arms for a hard hug, sliding his arms around a familiar waist, breathing in a familiar scent. "Worth it," he says into the space between Matt's collar and jaw. "Yeah," Matt says, voice fierce, arms tight around Ben. "You are." And fuck, what the hell was he thinking to keep his distance for two damn months? "C'mon." Ben presses a quick kiss to Matt's neck -- a promise for later -- and steps back. "Point me to your damn car already so we can get out of here and get naked and work on that getting reacquainted thing." Matt just smiles and leads the way across the parking lot. "Don't have your bike here," he says over his shoulder. "Shame." "Who says?" Ben winks, tossing the keys up and catching them. "Always wanted to bike cross-country..." Matt can't help it. He laughs, and it's a full belly laugh that causes heads to turn from across the lot. "Fucker," he says affectionately even as his body tightens from the memory of that bike. "You really think I'd come out to California without it?" Ben grins, stopping at Matt's car and leaning against the driver's side door. "Maybe we could get you one and we could ride back up your way once I'm done here." "That'd be nice." Matt rests his hands on top of the car, neatly pinning Ben in place. He leans in to nuzzle that spot just below Ben's jaw that Matt knows drives him crazy. "Planning on roughing it, huh?" "You, me, the bikes, a tent, the open road..." He gasps the last word, clenching his fists to keep from moving. Fucking Matt, man...still has the softest, most ruthless lips on the planet. "Yeah?" Soft puff of air against Ben's skin, and Matt smiles. His teeth nip one spot, then another, before his tongue soothes the bites. "Still gets pretty cold at night out here." "That's the...uh...point...Matt, Jesus." "Matt'll do just fine." A soft chuckle accompanies his words, but Matt doesn't lift his head. Instead, he slides his hand down to cup Ben's very obvious erection. "Want me to help you with this?" "H-here?" Ben manages to squeak, before the delicious pressure of Matt's hand on him is too much and he closes his eyes. The small, dim, practical part of his mind keeps telling him that it's still daylight, they're still in public, their respective clubs would kill them...but the larger, more insistent part wants Matt's hands on him now, if not sooner. "Got a better idea?" It's reckless as hell, but fuck it. Matt's past caring what other people think of this. His fingers toy with Ben's zipper, teasing, and he waits for Ben to make the call. It's a dare, a bet, and they both know it. And damned if Ben'll walk away from any bet involving Matt. "Not really," he growls, and pushes into Matt's hand as he yanks on Matt's lapels, crashing their lips together for a hard, furious kiss. That's all the yes that Matt needs. In seconds, he has the zipper down and his hand wrapped around Ben's cock, even as they both fight for control of the kiss. Fuck, but this is exactly what he'd wanted when he got on the plane in Seattle. Yes, and Ben hisses his pleasure even as he pumps his hips, moving in time with Matt's fist over him, on him, possessing him with each stroke. He slants his head, sucking on Matt's tongue, hands sliding around wide shoulders, pulling him closer still. Been far too fucking long. That's it, like that, and Matt groans softly into the kiss before pulling his head back. "Fucking hot like this," he murmurs, face pressed tight to Ben's neck. "Gonna peel you outta that suit and fuck you senseless later." "Right after I fuck you," Ben promises, his voice high and breathless, need making his knees weak. Or maybe it's the assured way Matt's jerking him off, each stroke sending him closer to the edge. "Not this time." Matt smiles, lips moving against Ben's jaw as his wrist flicks and he slides his hand up again. "Wh-what's that supposed...God!" Ben can feel his eyes rolling in the back of his head as he gasps again, the last shards of control slipping away with every movement of Matt's fist over him. "Just what it sounded like," Matt says with a wicked chuckle. "C'mon now, c'mon," and his hand moves faster, wrist twisting with each upstroke, fingers tightening on the downslide. "Fuck..." And Ben's not sure if it's the thought of Matt fucking him or Matt's last wrist flick or Matt's voice in his ear, but one of them, all of them, sends him over the edge. He comes with Matt's name on his lips, spilling over Matt's fingers. "You are so fucking hot like this," Matt whispers, dragging a handkerchief out of his jacket to wipe his hand. Licking his fingers might be a little too obvious given the location. "So're you," Ben smiles, lashes fluttering lazily as he meets Matt's eyes. The dying sunlight frames Matt's body like a lover. "Gonna be even hotter with my cock up your ass." "Later, kiddo," Matt grins. "Me first this time." "First, second, last, hell I don't care as long as it happens." Matt strolls around the car and winks at Ben over the roof. "Oh, it'll happen." "Damn right it will," Ben mutters, but pitches his voice so Matt can hear him. He grins as he opens the door and slides into the driver's seat, body humming with anticipation. "You can bet on it."
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