Ben Loves a Challenge Ch. 07

Dean's shaft was hard and silky, and almost feverishly hot. Ben stroked it with two fingers, then Dean closed his entire hand around Ben's, forcing him to grasp it firmly. He pumped his hand up and down the shaft once and Dean's hips jerked in response. Dean felt good in his hand, and before he could stop himself, he leaned in and slid his lips over the head.

Dean's moan set his insides on fire. He moved, wiggling around to find a better angle, stopping when he was ass up and head down. Dean's fingers were still in his hair, and flexed in time to Ben's strokes. Precum filled his mouth with a bitter flavor, driving his lust even higher.

He paused, looking up to check on Dean, but his eyes were still glued to the TV. His fingers flexed, though, and pushed his head back down onto his shaft. Ben chuckled, then sucked Dean in as deep as he could, which wasn't that deep. He needed to get better at this, he needed more practice. The idea was exciting.

He barely noticed when Dean's hand left his hair, but his whole body froze up when cold, thin fingers traced the hemline of his khakis. His brain caught up with the activities a second later and he fumbled with his pants, his knowledge of how zippers worked suddenly gone from his brain.

Dean snorted and helped him out of his pants. God, Dean's cold fingers felt good around his cock. He knew he wasn't going to last, he'd been fantasizing about Dean too long on his drive back.

He focused all of his attention on Dean's cock, licking and sucking and biting lightly. It was difficult, Dean was really good at wringing his dick, but he doubled down, sucking harder and moving more quickly.

"Gonna cum, Ben," Dean moaned, his hand slipping from Ben's cock.

"Mmm," Ben moaned, moving faster. Dean's fingers were in his hair again, trying to pull him off, but he let Dean tug without giving ground. A moment later Dean surrendered, then helped Ben get him off faster.

He thought Dean's cum might have been thicker than last time, but he hadn't done this enough to really know if that was true or not. The taste was thick, too, not that it made any sense to him when he thought it. It instantly filled his whole head, making his head also feel thick. Everything felt thick. He was moaning, and Dean was too, rocking his hips in time with Ben's sucking. Ben swallowed him down, sucking until Dean's dick stopped pulsing in his mouth.

Ben sat back on his knees and wiped his face, smiling like an idiot. He really was an idiot, he realized, his cock hanging out of his pants and cum on his breath. Dean watched him for a second, then surged forward and caught his face between his palms and kissed him hard.

Dean wasn't squeamish about the cum that still coated Ben's mouth, they kissed feverishly. Ben returned the kiss, then threw one knee over Dean's lap to straddle him. "Ben," Dean moaned, his hand running from his cheek down his chest, then lower. Dean grabbed his cock firmly, then squeezed it to the point just before pain.

"Dean," he moaned. "Missed you."

"Missed you, too," Dean whispered, so softly Ben wondered if he'd heard what he wanted to hear. Dean's hand rode up his shaft and then down it again, so firm it was almost uncomfortable, but it was what he needed. He moaned and Dean chuckled, then sped up.

"Dean, may I cum?"

"You'll be in trouble if you cum on me," Dean said, but it was playful, the way he said it.

The thought of being in trouble, and the thought of coming on Dean pushed him over the edge. His orgasm was slow and gradual, and afterwards he thought maybe it had something to do with how hard Dean was holding his cock. His cum oozed out of his cock, lubing Dean's grip, which just sent another spasm of cum from him.

Dean bit Ben's lip, then pulled back to watch Ben come. "Oh no," he said sarcastically. "You got cum on me. What a bad boy..."

Ben's whole body twitched with his next surge of cum and Dean chuckled, still sliding his firm fist up and down the shaft. He wasn't done coming, he realized as Dean's hand rose again, and more cum rose with it. Another wave of cum oozed from him and then Dean's hand was down his cock again.

It was too much, too much stimulation, but Dean pulled up his cock again, pulling more cum with it. "Too much," Ben whined, slumping forward. Dean dipped his head down and caught Ben's collarbone, biting the muscle above it as his hand rose again, somehow milking another small glob of cum from him. Dean bit hard, hard enough to leave a bruise, and Ben's hips jumped, sending Dean's hand down the shaft again.

Dean groaned. "You don't seem like you want me to stop," he whispered, then bit Ben's earlobe. Hard.

"Dean," he cried out, squirming as that tight fist rode up his shaft. It felt too big, too tight, too stimulated. He felt like he was still coming, though no more cum leaked from his slit. His hips danced when Dean slid down again, biting him hard again on the collarbone. Dean released the skin when his hand came back up, Ben could feel his smile against the raw skin there.

"Ben," Dean asked, sounding breathy. "You still like this?"

"Shut up," Ben complained, eyes closed tight. He whined as Dean jerked him again, the sensations both painful and delicious. He hid his face against Dean's neck. "I love it."

Dean released his cock and then grabbed his face with both hands, forcing him into another kiss. They kissed hard, frantic and needy until his lips were puffy. Dean pulled away, his pupils blown wide. "Ben... You have cum on your face."

It took a second for his over-stimulated brain to put the sentence together. The absurdity of it made him laugh, and for a split second Dean looked worried, but then he laughed, too. They laughed, in each other's arms, each of their soft cocks hanging out, until his ribs hurt and Dean pushed him back onto the couch.

"Go clean up," Dean urged.

"Yeah, probably should," he agreed. He jogged the short distance to the bathroom, eager to be back with Dean. He washed up, then Dean washed up, and they rewatched the last episode they'd been too distracted to actually watch. Ben found himself with his head back in Dean's lap, those cold fingers petting him in all the right ways.

Four days of travel and conferencing caught up with him, as well as post-orgasmic endorphins, and he dozed off on Dean's lap. He only knew this when Dean shook his shoulder gently, rocking him awake.

"I gotta pee," Dean apologized.

He nodded, then put his head down in the warm spot Dean left behind. He was dozing off again when the sound of keys in the door jerked him awake, disoriented. The door flung open and he twisted around, falling off the couch in the process.

"Princess Dean-anna! Come out and play!" said a falsetto voice, obviously a man. "We've come to rescue you from your self-inflicted house arrest, darling!"

Another voice followed the first, also in a falsetto, but deeper than the first. "Come out, come out, Princess, come out and play!"

Ben picked himself up off the floor and scooted back onto the couch, trying not to draw the two newcomer's attentions. He turned slowly, as if moving slower would keep them from seeing him. It was a dumb thought.

Men in drag. Two men stood just inside Dean's apartment, the door now shut behind them. The first one was shorter and fair skinned, his platinum blonde wig making his skin seem even paler.

The pale one wore a shiny red dress that clung to his body, cut low in the chest. Ben didn't know if the breasts were implants or just a padded bra, he didn't let his vision linger long enough to find out. A white boa wrapped around his neck, topping off a white trench coat cut in a feminine style. Fishnet stockings and high-heeled knee boots completed the ensemble.

"Seriously, Princess, it's been a million years," Red Dress complained.

The second one had dark skin and wore a filmy white coverall over teal hotpants and a banana yellow tube top. Ben didn't know if it was natural or not, but he couldn't get over the huge lemony-yellow afro, or the white, star-shaped sunglasses. Starglasses went to say something, but before he did, their eyes met.

Ben blushed, unsure of what to do. "Um... Hi?"

"Oh my gaaaawd," Starglasses squealed, making a bee-line to him. "Who is this scrumptious little piece of straight-bait that Princess is hiding up in his high tower?"

Red Dress turned, too, and within seconds he was surrounded by men dressed like beautiful butterfly strippers. "Hello, gorgeous," Red Dress cooed. "And who might you be?" They smelled like strippers, too.

Dean was suddenly there, his hand firm over Ben's forearm. "No one, he's a coworker. We were working."

Red Dress's eyes flicked to the TV screen, then to Dean. "Umm-humm. Sure you were. I know straight-bait when I see it, darling."

He looked up in confusion as Dean pulled him to his feet. Dean's frown deepened. "I think it's time you were leaving," he said, his voice cold. It hurt his heart.

"No, he should stay, we're the ones who busted in on you," Starglasses said. "We're just curious, is all. You've been more hermit-y than usual, and he's-"

"Shut up, Zion!" Dean hissed, pushing Ben towards the door from the far side of the couch, avoiding the drag queens. "He's a coworker." The way Dean emphasized coworker was like a shard of glass in his heart, they weren't even work friends, much less real ones, and especially not close. "That's all. Don't give him the wrong idea."

"Dean?" He asked, his head spinning.

"Time to go, you were just saying it was getting late and you should get going," Dean said, voice firm. He picked up his shoes and shoved them into his hands, continuing to push him towards the door. "Right?"

"What's the hurry?" Starglasses asked. "We're all friends, aren't we?"

"Coworker," Dean clarified, his tone clearly putting Ben in his place.

"Oh. Yeah. Coworkers, that's all," Ben said, feeling a pain in his chest he hadn't felt since the last night with Laura. "I should be..." He couldn't say anything else, his throat was too tight.

"Bye, thanks for, ah, the help. Tell your wife I said hi," Dean said, his eyes narrowed shrewdly as he emphasized the word 'wife'.

"Oh," Ben said, feeling dazed as he slipped on his shoes, back to the door. He could smell Starglasses, roses and cotton candy. "It's suddenly pretty clear to me how she might feel about me," he said, trying to make eye contact with Dean. Dean wasn't looking at him. "It's probably over."

"Sucks," Dean said, turning his back to Ben. "See you at work." His heart stopped beating and the color drained away from the room.

"Dean!" Red Dress chided.

Dean shrugged.

The simple dismissal was painful, and he suddenly couldn't breathe, suddenly needed fresh air. He needed to think. What had he done wrong? Hadn't he just had Dean in his mouth an hour ago? What had he done wrong? Maybe he'd been wrong about the whole thing, the whole time. Numbly he made his way to the stairs. He descended slowly, his heavy heart weighing his feet down, too.

He released the security door when he heard someone from inside yell just before it clicked shut. "Oi! Straight-bait!"

Starglasses. He cringed, then pulled his collar up and double-timed it to his car. He heard the door open behind him, he hadn't been fast enough to outrun a man in heels, but in his defense, he hadn't anticipated anyone following him after that. He tried to duck around the corner, but somehow, even in heels, Starglasses was fast enough to catch his arm, though he was slightly winded. "Oi! Wait up, Straight-bait! You forgot your phone." He held Ben's phone out to him.

"Oh, thanks," he said, feeling confused as to why Starglasses cared if he forgot his phone or not. He reached for it, but Starglasses grabbed his wrist with his other hand and held it tightly.

Starglasses's grip was tight and he found he couldn't pull away. "Listen, bitch," the drag queen hissed at him. Zion, he remembered, Dean called him Zion. "I don't know what you think you're doing with Dean, but he's special. Don't you fuck with him, and don't you pull some lame-ass straight-bait shit on him. If you're not gonna give him a chance, leave him alone!"

"Straight bait? I don't know what that means."

Zion sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "Jesus, Joseph, and Mary. You're not gay. He is. You spending solo time like this, maybe teasing him a little, eh? That's straight-bait. Giving him hope, petting the cow but never drinking the milk, so to speak."

Ben wanted to point out that the cow-milk analogy was terrible. He also wanted to point out that he'd drank the milk an hour ago, but he didn't say either. He didn't trust himself to say anything at all.

Zion deflated, then released his hand. He jerked it back, then wiped the tears he hadn't realized had fallen from his cheeks. "I know, I know he's special. I don't know what I did wrong..." He couldn't speak, he didn't want to risk full blown crying in front of a complete stranger, and Dean's friend. He turned, hand on top of his car while he fiddled with the lock.

He needed a new car, with the little key fab that would unlock his doors from a distance, he decided as Zion invaded his personal space.

"Don't know what you did wrong?" Zion repeated, narrowing long, perfect eyelashes at him.

"Nothing, nothing," he dismissed, breathing deliberately to control his emotions. He finally got the door unlocked and pulled it open, then threw himself inside. He tried to close the door, but Zion caught it, holding it open.

"You're both acting shady," Zion announced. "What'd you do to Dean to make him this upset? He's been really weird lately."

"It's over anyway," Ben dismissed. "It was my fault, and it's over now. Let go of my car, please." He barely got the sentence out before his chest tightened and prevented him from saying anything further.

Zion eyed him suspiciously, then stepped back, releasing the door. He slammed it shut, then started his car and drove away, barely giving the engine time to catch before throwing it into drive. He saw Zion still standing there, his yellow afro almost glowing under a streetlight, then he turned the corner and left Dean and all the rest behind.