Ben Loves a Challenge Ch. 02

Every day that Dean didn't reach out increased his anxiety, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it. Ben had never felt like this before, and he couldn't explain it, but it was driving him crazy. Dean monopolized his thoughts if he let them drift, and even sometimes when he didn't.

A week went by before Dean contacted him, and it wasn't what he'd been hoping for. Instead of the text about dinner plans that he wanted, Dean sent him an image of his desk. Yoda and Darth Vader were fighting again, but this time Darth Vader was lying down, Yoda standing over him in victory. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't respond, though he typed out several texts and deleted them.

All that night he kept looking at Dean's text, wondering what it could mean, other than to be frustrating. He had to stop looking at it. He closed his text window and opened a browser, then began a voyage through his favorite porn sites. Nothing seemed interesting tonight. Blond chicks getting pounded into various furniture. Two girls with one guy. A million boring blowjobs, all to either terrible elevator music or terrible techno. More blond girls getting pounded, occasionally brunettes.

A woman in a black dom outfit, poured-on black leather pants and a matching corset, towered over a man, his head in a sack, tied to a workhorse. He couldn't have said why he'd clicked on the link, violence wasn't his thing. It played automatically when it opened in the new window. He went to close it, but the camera zoomed into the man's body and he froze up. The dom moved into the scene, but only her torso was visible.

Both he and the man jumped the first time her crop came down on the man's ass, the sound sharp and crisp. The camera was close enough to show him the red line it left across the man's rump. She brought the crop down again, and was soon beating out a strict cadence across his cheeks. The redder the man's ass grew, the louder his moans were. Still, the dom continued her swift, even strikes. The man twitched and the dom laughed.

His loins ached, and he was legitimately surprised at how aroused he was. It was shameful, and he felt his face burn, but he couldn't look away as the dom continued to subdue the man tied to the workhorse. His hand found his cock, and even though he was embarrassed, it didn't stop him from pulling it out.

He stroked it slowly, unable to look away. Her hits were landing harder now, the man was writhing under her skillful strikes. "Have you had enough punishment?" the dominatrix asked the man.

"No, mistress," he moaned. Ben moaned, too.

"Good," the woman purred. "Ask for more."

"P-p-please, Mistress," the man moaned, sounding winded. Ben couldn't tell if it sounded like the man was crying or not. "Please punish me more."

The woman fingered her crop suggestively. "You are such a good boy," she purred, running her hands over his blazing cheeks. He moaned.

The video ended, and Ben found himself restless. He wanted to know how it ended, wanted to know how much punishment the man ended up receiving. He realized what he was thinking, and the shame was too much to bear. He backed out of the video and put on a blowjob video, a girl with sandy brown hair.

The woman looked up at the camera, sucking a well-endowed penis into her mouth. She sucked it in, then released it, giggling vapidly. Ben watched her suck the dick for another few seconds, but it wasn't interesting. Disgusted with himself, he threw his phone onto his nightstand, then turned out the light.

His cock ached, and seemed hotter and harder than usual. As he stroked himself he thought about the woman giving the blowjob he'd just watched, but it wasn't doing anything for him. His traitorous mind replayed the video, and his rebel cock throbbed in his hand. He pushed the thought away, imagining himself getting blown by a model he'd seen in a magazine at the dentist's office, but her image was hazy in his mind.

His mind drifted back to the dominatrix video again, except he was the one getting punished. He couldn't see anything, could only hear the crack of the crop against his ass and the ghosting fingers between each series of smacks. He gave up trying to push it away, he was too close to coming to care. His hand sped up as the scene played on in his head.

"Do you want me to punish you?" Dean asked in his fantasy, and then his cum was shooting from him in ropy strands, his hips lifting off of the bed and his toes curling. His orgasm was more intense than anything he'd had in ages, and it left him feeling lightheaded.

When he came back down and realized what he'd done, and who he'd gotten off to, shame filled him. He wasn't used to feeling like this, he'd never had issues before, but now he felt ashamed and confused.

Dean's voice continued to haunt him until he fell asleep, half-hard again.

Dean sent him another text the next day. This time it was a Deadpool Funko Pop dressed as Bob Ross. It made him think of the art on Dean's wall, and he had a sudden urge to feel the paint under his fingers. He replied this time, and before thinking it through.

'Where did you get the painting on your wall?'

Dean's reply was another picture, this time of an actual Bob Ross figurine.

Frustrated, Ben put his phone away and tried to focus on his work, but the urge to see Dean's painting again, and the echo of Dean from his fantasy's words continued to distract him. He couldn't concentrate, he had to do something. So, naturally, he texted Dean back.

'Bob Ross painted it?'

'LOL' was Dean's response.

He wanted to storm over to Dean's side of the building and talk to him, to demand that Dean stop tormenting him and go to dinner with him already, then realized exactly how gay it sounded. He sighed, Dean's texts still on his screen.

"You wanna get some lunch?" Justin asked him. He jerked around, startled, instantly hiding his phone from sight.

"Shit, Jus, you scared me."

Justin shrugged. "You looked like you needed a break, and it's kinda lunchtime. Did you pack, or do you wanna go out?"

"I need some fresh air," Ben decided. "Let's go to Sam's Deli."

Justin nodded. "Sure. Let's go grab Hugh."

Ben was surprised to find he didn't want to see Hugh, but he didn't say anything. They went for sandwiches.

"Guess who I saw yesterday," Hugh announced scandalously, nibbling his pickle slice.

"My mom?" Justin asked with a snort. "She said your dick's too small to please any woman, by the way."

"That's only cause she's so fat that even my twelve inch woodie couldn't get inside. No, tard, I saw Parker Brown," Hugh said, leaning in closer. "Saw him at the brewery that just opened up over on Watkins Avenue."

"Who?" Ben asked. He'd finished his sandwich already. "Parker Brown?"

Justin elbowed him as he crumpled his wax paper into a ball. "Parker Brown. You remember, the guy who, ah, you know. With Dicksucker Dean." Justin made a blowjob motion, accenting it with his tongue pressing his cheek out in time to his hand jerks.

"Oh," Ben said, his belly tightening. It shouldn't make him uncomfortable, he'd never felt like that before, but now it filled him with the sudden urge to be back at his desk. He flicked the screen of his phone and it came to life, Dean's text window front and center. He shut the screen off quickly, then pocketed his phone just so he didn't do it again.

"Just 'oh'?" Hugh said. "He was with his wife, so they musta worked things out. Poor Dean, trying to turn people gay. He'd fuck anything with a dick." Hugh shook his head disapprovingly.

Ben tried hard not to show annoyance on his face. Any other day, any time before he'd woken up hung-over in Dean's bed, he'd have been right in with Justin and Hugh, making fun of a man they didn't even care to know. Now Dean was a person. He was real, and this was cruel.

"You mean he'd let anything with a dick fuck him," Justin countered with a laugh. "He's definitely the guy who takes it up the ass. He's too skinny to be on top."

Ben's fingernails were pressing painfully into his palms. "Stop," he said, forcing his face into a look he hoped resembled normal. "That's old news, you should move on."

Hugh looked at him sharply. "Laura is old news, too. Maybe you should move on," he said with a snicker.

Justin smiled sympathetically, nodding. "He's right, about Laura."

"Oh my god, stop agreeing with Hugh all the freaking time that I need to get over Laura. I'm over her. I'm moving on. Next story," he growled, staring at the table.

"Suuure ya are," Hugh said. Since when was he always this smug? "And, the Parker-Dean thing isn't old, cause I saw him yesterday."

"Who cares?" Ben asked. "Who cares if he was at a brewery. Is he not allowed to go out in public anymore?"

"What's wrong with you, Ben?" Justin asked. "You've been weird ever since Sanjay's party."

"I'm not weird," Ben said too quickly, and with too much emphasis. Hugh and Justin shared a knowing look.

"Suuure," Hugh said. "Do you think Dean still let's Parker peg him? On the side, like?"

"Jesus, Hugh. Show a little class. Who cares if he does or doesn't? Dean's not... You shouldn't talk shit you don't know. And, don't spread rumors like a teenage girl."

It was the wrong thing to say, he knew it as it came out of his mouth, but he wasn't able to stop himself. "Dean's not what?" Hugh said, sneering. "What were you gonna say? You know what I heard, Ben? I heard Dean has a secret admirer, someone in the building. Their intern's been telling people about how he caught a guy leaving a love letter on Dean's desk, before work."

Ben went icy, both inside and out. "John? That kid's a twat. He probably just wants to start some mean shit to try to impress someone over there. Ya know, like, bond with the team over being mean to the gay guy."

Hugh studied him. "John? Thought his name was Jimmy. I dunno," Justin said. "I heard it, too, though."

"Just cause you both heard it doesn't make it not a rumor. That's the freaking definition of a rumor, idiots. That intern probably did it just to be mean, or started the rumor so no one would accuse him of being gay."

"Why are you defending Dicksucker Dean?" Hugh asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm not defending him," Ben objected. "Just cause I told you bitches to stop running the rumor mill. I'm telling you two not to be bitches."

"Jeeeeesus Christ, Ben. You're a bitch," Hugh said with a laugh.

Ben pursed his lips so that he didn't say anything they might use against him. "Seriously, though?" Justin asked, looking over to Hugh.

"Seriously what? That Ben's a whiny bitch?"

"Shut your idiot mouth," Ben snapped. Hugh laughed.

"No, not that. We knew that already," Justin said, waving it away.

"Hey!"

"No, the shit about Dean having a secret admirer."

Hugh smiled, and Ben knew it was the smile that girls fell on his pork-sword for. "Yeah. Kid said he saw the guy, that he was really nervous and dressed nice, like a manager."

"That kid's an idiot," Ben reiterated. Hugh gave him a sly look and he knew he had to act fast. "Why are you so obsessed with Dean, Hugh? It's like you're always keeping tabs on him. Maybe it was you?"

"Yeah, it was me," Hugh admitted dramatically. "I'm doing you a favor, since you can't seem to get over your stupid ex."

"How the hell does that even make sense?" he snapped. "I think you're obsessed with Dean. I think you left the letter cause you're too chickenshit to tell him in person that you'd love to know the flavor of his dick. Does that sound familiar? Why would you tell us all that, if you weren't trying to cover something up?"

He'd gotten too excited, he knew it, but the more they talked about Dean, the more upset he was getting. "What's wrong with you, dude?" Justin asked.

"Nothing," he lied.

"We need to go out. Let's go out tonight. You need some air, or something," Justin said.

"I'm not obsessed with Dean," Hugh defended. "I mean, other than that he's a dicksucker and that's gross, but also hilarious."

"Dude, you get your dick sucked all the time and you never think twice about the girl who's giving it," Ben countered.

Hugh shrugged. "Girls are supposed to suck dick."

"You're a massive twat, you know that?" he shot back. "You need to stop obsessing with Dean, because it's gonna look like you're the cocksucker. Also, just leave him alone. Who cares what he does, or doesn't do, if it doesn't affect you in any way. Stop being a twat."

"Oh, look Justin, Ben learned a new word," Hugh mocked. "Get over yourself, get over Laura, and get out of your funk. And, for someone who says I'm obsessing over the gayboy in IT, you sure do defend him a lot. You got a soft spot in your heart for him? Was it you?"

"Was it me what?" he asked. He knew what Hugh meant, he needed a second to think of a response.

"You that left the love letter for Dean," Hugh clarified.

"Oh, you know it," he said, smirking. "I even sealed it with a kiss as I signed your name, you bitch." He tried to be as cocky as he remembered he used to be, before Dean had gotten into his head.

"I sealed your mom with a kiss, too," Hugh countered.

"Seriously, Ben. Come out with us tonight. We can go to a strip club or something, you can fill your face with soft, stripper-scented titties, and you'll feel better in the morning," Justin insisted.

"You need to suck on some titties, Ben. You need to fuck something, and soon, or that stick is never coming out of your ass," Hugh said.

"I'm not, what the hell are you even..." He had no good comeback ready. He'd probably think of ten by the end of the day. "I'm not sleeping with a stranger tonight."

Hugh laughed. "Fine, but titties, man! Get them titties, in yo face!" He pulled his arms back to just his chest forward, then wiggled, his imitation of a stripper.

"I dunno," he hedged. The idea of a stripper's attention on him was mildly interesting. Maybe they were right, maybe he was in a funk that he needed to get out of.

"Why not, you got other plans?" Justin asked, sounding skeptical.

"No," he sighed. "No plans. I'm probably working late to finish this report before the weekend, though."

"Yeah, so let's go after that. Like, eight? We can come pick you up," Justin offered.

"Nah, I can meet you at your place," he said. He wanted an out, if he didn't feel like going, and if they picked him up, he wouldn't be able to dodge them.

"Yeah, like I said, we'll pick you up at eight. Ben, be ready, cause Hugh's buying the first round of lap dances."

Hugh jerked his head around. "I'm buying what now? You wish."

They left, Justin and Hugh making plans, but he was lost in thought, wondering what Dean was doing, and wondering if he'd screwed up. Maybe tonight would be the night Dean wanted to go to dinner. Of course it would, now that he had plans.

Ben sighed. He returned to work and soon forgot the conversation as he laser-focused himself into finishing his work before the weekend began.

As he'd predicted, he was one of the last people to be leaving the office, his eyes tired and dry. His eyes were dry and itchy, and he just wanted to get home and take a long, hot shower and watch an episode or two of The Expanse. He remembered, as he approached his car in the parking lot, that he was supposed to go out tonight. The idea was overbearing. He sighed, then jumped when he saw someone was sitting in his passenger seat.

It was Dean. He hesitated for a second before he opened the driver's door, swallowing down his panic. "Dean? Why are you in my car?" he asked, leaning down to peer inside without getting in.

Dean looked up from his phone, he was playing some kind of word game. "Cause it was raining. I think it's gonna rain again soon, you should get in, too."

"Ah, no, that's not what I mean," he said, struggling with the decision to get in or stay out. "Why are you in my car at all?"

"I told you, it was raining."

"Dean?"

"Ben?"

He sighed. A crack of thunder pealed overhead and he looked up. Lightning chased across the sky, and then big, fat drops began pelting down, too perfectly timed to be real. He jumped in the car, slamming the door. For a second, only the sound of rain hitting his car filled the cabin. Ben could smell Dean, that same, clean scent that was on those warm blue sheets, underscored by wet people smell.

It was too difficult to explain how he felt being so close to Dean, being able to smell him, hell, being able to practically feel his body heat. He didn't know what to say, didn't know why Dean knocked him off balance every time.

"I didn't buy it, if that's what you were thinking," Dean said without looking up.

"Buy what?" He looked over at Dean for some context clues, but he continued playing his game, making words from different alphabet tiles.

"The painting. In my room. You asked about it earlier. I didn't buy it."

"Oh," he said. He turned away from Dean, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, mostly because he didn't know what else to do with them. "Okay."

"I thought you wanted to know where I got it," Dean said, and it sounded like he was teasing him, but he wasn't certain. He didn't know Dean well enough to know if he was teasing or being serious.

"I did. I do," he said quietly.

"It's mine," Dean said, as if it answered the question.

"Yeah, I know. It was in your room," Ben replied, feeling as if he wasn't following the conversation.

"No, I mean, it's mine. Mine-mine. Like, I painted it."

Ben didn't say anything at first, his mind travelling back to Dean's room. He could picture it in his head, and he wished he'd touched it, he longed to know what it would feel like under his fingers. "I like it," he said, feeling dumb the moment the words left his mouth.

Dean turned his phone off and looked over at him, studying his face. He laughed, his smile bright and charming. Ben realized he'd never seen him smile before, and he quite fancied it. He blushed, looking down at his hands clenching the steering wheel. "You're weird," Dean announced.

"Sorry," he said, feeling every ounce of weird that Dean though he was. He really wasn't right lately.

"Don't be sorry. Weird can be good. Ben, why are you so nervous?"

"I'm not nervous," he lied. "Why're you in my car?"

"Maybe I was waiting for you," Dean admitted. "I've been a bit of a jerk, I know you were serious about dinner. You were, weren't you?"

"I've been waiting all week for you to tell me when," he admitted. "I didn't want to seem too pushy."

Dean laughed again. "You're weird. Why would you wanna take a gay guy out to dinner?"

"I owe you, for your hospitality, and for being a dick to you the night you took care of me. I don't want you to think I'm like that, cause I'm not usually."

"Like what? Why do you care what I think about you at all? You didn't two weeks ago," Dean pointed out, twisting in his seat to watch him.

Dean's full attention had him squirming. "You're a good guy," he said. "I don't... I don't want to treat people like I treated you. I... I dunno," he admitted. "I don't know why I want you to think well of me, but I know I don't want you to think I'm an asshole. I wanna get to know you."

"That's it, right there," Dean argued, but it wasn't harsh. "Why do you wanna get to know me? If you hang out with me, your friends are eventually gonna see us together, and then they're going to be assholes to you."

Ben shook his head. "I don't care about that. I dunno, why I want to get to know you, other than you took the time to take care of me, and you're nice."

Dean laughed again. "DeLuca, I've been anything but nice to you."

"You're nice. You gave back the money, you took care of me when you didn't even know me, you let me sleep in your bed while you took the couch. You let me take a shower and washed my clothes, even after I... After I was, ah..."