Ben Loves a Challenge

They couldn't decide on a movie, so they ended up watching Firefly, which Ben was actually pretty pumped about. Watching Firefly with Dean seemed like a perfect date night. He'd catch Dean watching him every now and again and it made him smile. Eventually he lay down, putting his head in Dean's lap.

It startled his lover, but Dean soon settled into it, and after a while his fingers were stroking Ben's hair. Despite being a man's lap, and how skinny Dean was, Ben found he was ridiculously comfortable. Dean's fingers flexing in his hair made it perfect.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he must have. He jerked awake as Dean pushed his head off his lap and stood up. "Huh?"

"It's late," Dean said. "You should go."

"Aww, I wanna stay here. I was so comfy!"

Dean pursed his lips. "Ben."

He went to argue, but decided against it. He'd already pushed Dean a lot farther than he'd meant to. "Okay. But, tomorrow's Saturday. Can we go on a date or something?"

Dean sighed, then rubbed at his eyes. He really did look tired, and Ben wondered what time it was. "DeLuca, you're killing me."

"You don't wanna go on a date?" he asked with a small pout. He made whining dog noises, then stepped into Dean's body. He pressed his face against Dean's neck as he continued whining like a dog.

"Oh my god, Ben. You're-"

Dean bit him, not too hard, but hard enough to interrupt his statement. "I'm your idiot," he finished. He followed his bite up with a kiss. "Please? Anything you want."

"So, if I wanted to go to a gay bar you'd be down?"

"As long as you were with me, and it was what you wanted to do. I told you, Dean, I'll follow you anywhere."

Dean exhaled, loud and long. "Jesus, DeLuca. There's something wrong with you, you know that?"

"Nope. I'm perfectly healthy and mentally sound. Listen, Dean. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable. If you don't wanna go on a date, I could cook again and we could stay in, just like tonight. That would be awesome, too. Whatever you want."

"I just don't understand you," Dean complained. "Go home, DeLuca."

Ben frowned, but put on his coat and worked on his shoes. "I just want a chance with you, that's all."

"That's what I'm talking about," Dean agreed. "You're straight. Find some woman to woo. I'm not a woman."

Ben snorted. "I'm intimately aware that you aren't a woman. Why can't I wanna try new things, Dean? I wanna try you."

"DeLuca, this is exhausting. Fine. I know I already said it, but this's it. One week. Then you can go back to your normal missionary position life and leave me alone."

"Guys can do missionary, too, Dean. I looked it up."

Dean blushed. "Jesus, DeLuca. Fine. You're lucky I don't just ignore you all week."

"If you ignored me, you wouldn'ta gotten to come twice tonight," Ben said with a wicked smile.

"Don't underestimate my masturbation capabilities," Dean said, his tone finally lightening up.

Ben smiled. "Never. I'm going, Dean. Please, think about tomorrow. I only have a week, and I'd like to make the most of it, especially if you decide to dump me in the end." He pulled the door open, but hesitated at the threshold.

"Go on," Dean said, trying to push him out the door. "Get."

"No, not without my goodbye kiss," he said, planting his feet.

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, then grabbed Ben's chin firmly and forced his way into Ben's mouth. Ben's eyes rolled back at the intensity of the gesture, and then Dean released him. He hadn't even had the chance to deepen the kiss. "Benjamin DeLuca, go home."

The command in Dean's voice had him shivering in pleasure. "Love you," he whispered. "Bye."

Dean shut the door in his face.

--

Ben paced like a circus lion all morning on Saturday, trying his best to refrain from texting Dean first, but he gave up just after lunch. 'Any thoughts on our date?'

It was ten long, stressful minutes before Dean replied. 'Nope.'

He growled, frustrated, and typed out four text messages he deleted one after another. The one he finally sent said 'what r u doin now?'

The reply came in exactly ten minutes, he checked the time stamp.

'Shopping.'

Ben threw himself into his recliner and tried to calm himself. He felt like a highschooler grounded on prom, sure he was missing out, but not sure on the precise details. 'For what?' He replied too quickly.

It was another ten minutes to the second before he got an answer, and he knew Dean was messing with him. Instead of making him upset, it gave him hope, because if Dean was being playful, that meant he wasn't regretting anything. 'Bread, milk, taco stuff, lube, chicken breast, cheese, sausage, condoms, peppers, strawberries, bananas, cauliflower... Should I go on?'

His eyes caught on the word condoms, igniting fire in his loins and fear in his gut, which just turned into arousal. 'Yes, but only about the condoms. Oh, and the lube. And maybe the sausage?'

Dean's answer came immediately this time. 'Breakfast sausage.' A second passed, Ben watched Dean's messenger record him typing something else. 'No way to not make sausage sound sexual, but it's not.'

'Lol.' He sent back. 'What about the lube and condoms? For tonight?'

It took three minutes this time for Dean to respond. 'Sure, for tonight. If you say so.'

Ben smiled, feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve. 'So, what time am I coming over?'

'Who said they're for u?' Was Dean's immediate response.

Ben chuckled, his face burning and his loins engorged. 'You didn't say they weren't for me...'

Dean sent back an emoji of a monkey covering its mouth and Ben laughed out loud. 'What time?'

'For what?' Dean returned.

'Should I come over?' he responded, too quick, but he couldn't help himself.

'Never o'clock?'

Ben tried to think of something to say but his arousal and frustration robbed him of any sarcasm. He tried to answer Dean's text, but he couldn't. Despite that, he checked for new messages every other minute, unable to stop himself.

He decided to work out, he needed to do something to distract himself. He put his phone on the charger, out of sight, then pulled his dumbbells, resistance bands, kettlebell, and yoga mat out. He turned music on louder than was probably healthy, but if he heard his phone receive a message he'd be right back where he was. He worked out until he was sore, until he sweat through his shirt enough to plaster it to his back.

He felt good, a little sore and pretty thirsty, but good. He got a bottle of water and took it with him to the bathroom, chugging half of it before turning on the shower and stepping inside. He hadn't even given it time to warm up first, the cold water was a nice shock to his system. It warmed quickly and he stood under the stream, feeling good about life.

He thought about Dean stroking his hair as they watched TV. Ben ran his fingers over the still-sore bruise on his collarbone from Dean's bite the night before and his dick came online. He stroked himself to the memory of Dean slipping into dominance. He imagined Dean was standing outside the shower, pretended he could smell that sharp, masculine scent he had wafting in on the steam.

"Why are you touching yourself?" Imaginary Dean demanded.

Ben shivered, stilling his hand on his cock. He firmed up his grip until it was painful, imagining Dean leaning into the shower and squeezing down at the base of his cock. He whined, and heard Imaginary Dean laugh in his head.

"Who's a bad boy, Ben? Did you ask if you could masturbate to me in the shower?" Ben shook his head, the hot water running down his back and between the cleavage of his ass. "You wanna cum, Ben?"

He nodded, wanting nothing more than to jerk himself off quickly. Part of him felt this whole thing was silly, but he still didn't move his hand, or relax his too-firm grip on himself. "Dean," he moaned under his breath.

"You're my bitch, Ben, you know that, right?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"You wanna cum? What'll you do, to earn an orgasm, Ben?"

"Anything," he murmured, imaging Dean in those silky black boxers, the shape of his erection a centerpiece.

"Touch yourself," Imaginary Dean demanded. He stroked his cock and Imaginary Dean slapped his hand away. He dropped his hands to his sides, trembling again. "Touch your asshole, Ben. I want you to finger yourself. Show me how much you want me. Show me where you want me to put my hot, hard cock."

He trembled as he turned, leaning against the wall so he could spread his legs apart. His cock bobbed, longing to be touched, but he ignored it. Imaginary Dean watched him closely. A moan escaped him as he pressed his finger against his opening, water flowing around it on both sides. He pressed gently and clenched by reflex, the puckered skin sucking his fingertip in just a little.

"Push it inside yourself," Imaginary Dean told him. Ben imagined him squatting down, watching the show up close.

Ben pushed and his body clenched again, but his finger slipped inside. It felt weird, but still made his cock ache. "Good job," Dean praised. "Now fuck yourself."

Ben pushed his finger in deeper, then pulled it out and did it again. Without Dean actually there he lost his discipline and broke down, stroking himself in time to his finger pushing in and out of his ass. It only took a few frantic strokes before he was painting the pale blue tile with his desire, grunting, his ass now pressing into his finger greedily.

After his endorphins retreated and the water started running cooler he finally got out of the shower, feeling light-headed and pruny. If sex with Dean was even a fraction of this hot, he was as good as gone. So far, this thing with Dean was still a little nebulous, but now... He wanted Dean. There was no going back. He didn't feel gay, but he didn't feel quite as straight as he had a few weeks ago, either.

The thought of Dean dumping him at the end of the week sank his stomach to his feet. The thought of Dean with another man, commanding another man like he did had him clenching his fists in jealousy. He took three deep breaths, then let the feelings go. He couldn't change what hadn't happened yet, he had to focus on now.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he returned to his room, unable to stop himself from making a bee-line to his phone. Dean had texted him back, three times.

'What, no witty remark?'

'Fine. How about seven?'

'Are you coming over then? At seven? Or should I put it back to never o'clock?'

He was still reading through them when the icon indicating Dean was typing another message came up. He watched it, then it stopped, but no message came through. Just as he went to type out a message the icon came up again. This happened three times, he'd go to write a message, but then Dean would be typing and he'd wait for the message.

'I'm just playing. Does seven work?'

Oh, god, Dean was adorable. His heart clenched and he closed his eyes, enjoying Dean's texts and the feelings they incited. 'Seven is perfect. I was working out, just got out of the shower.'

Dean sent back a thumbs up.

Ben dressed, then returned to his phone, but Dean hadn't sent anything else. He typed in a quick message. 'I was thinking about you in the shower.'

'You're an idiot', was Dean's quick response.

Ben chuckled. 'I love it when you're mean to me.' Another series of him typing, then not sending anything. Ben watched, unable to quell his desire to tease Dean. 'You were mean to me in the shower, too.'

'DeLuca, you're killing me.'

Ben chuckled. 'What should I bring, for tonight?'

'Your ass.' Ben's face flushed at Dean's message.

'Yes, sir', he responded, his face still burning.

Three hours and forty-five painfully long minutes later he parked behind Dean's apartment building with two bottles of wine in tow, one red and one white, because he didn't know what Dean preferred. It was always good to be prepared. Nodding to himself, he sent Dean a text that he was outside, then climbed out of his car. The evening was gloomy and gray, perfect for staying in. He smiled, then walked to the exterior glass door, waiting for Dean.

'You're early.' He was typing out a response when Dean came running down the steps. Dean pulled up short, then walked leisurely, but Ben had seen his excitement. It made him just as excited. Dean pushed open the door, then hugged his other arm around his torso.

"Get in, it's cold out," he barked, his cheeks rosy.

Ben stepped inside and Dean let go of the door, then turned and headed up the steps without another word. Ben followed him, each step closer to his apartment raising his excitement. He'd never felt this way with anyone before, never felt this thrill from just being around someone else.

"Did you eat?" Dean asked as they cleared the second landing and began on the third.

"No."

"Okay. You wanna eat?"

"Sure."

Dean reached the third floor and pulled open the firedoor. "Come on," he said, stuffing Ben through the door. "Go."

He hesitated, forcing Dean to continue pushing him down the hall just to keep Dean's touch on him. "I missed you," he said.

Dean pulled his hand away and Ben nearly fell backwards. "You're an idiot," Dean muttered, then pushed open a door on the right side of the hall, identical to all the others with the exception of a silver number 36 nailed to it. "Go on."

Dean didn't wait for him to move. He pushed his way past Ben and didn't look back. Ben followed him in, pushing the door firmly shut. The apartment smelled like garlic bread. His stomach growled in response. "It smells amazing in here," Ben complimented. "What's for dinner?"

"Who said I made any for you?" Dean snapped. "It's nothing special. I threw together a quick lasagna and some garlic bread. Nothing major."

"Mmm. I love lasagna. I brought wine. I didn't know if you liked red or white so I got both..." He trailed off as Dean wheeled around and stalked towards him. Dean took the wine bottles from his hands and put them on the floor, then moved in until Ben's back was against the door.

Dean smelled nice, like his soap, but also like himself. "Tell me about your shower," Dean demanded in a harsh whisper, his body close enough for Ben to feel his body heat, but not close enough to be touching.

"You were..." His throat closed up. He cleared it and began again. "You were watching me. Wouldn't let me touch myself."

"No? Then what?" Dean asked, his nose nearly brushing Ben's.

He wanted to close the distance between them, but didn't dare. "You..." He swallowed nervously, suddenly filled with arousal and shame.

"What did I do next, Ben?" Dean asked, though it sounded more like a command.

"You told me to... Touch..."

"What did I tell you to touch, Ben?" Dean purred into his ear, leaning his head to the side. His cheek barely brushed over Ben's and he shivered.

"My ass," he breathed. He was shaking, nervous and excited.

"Your ass?" Dean asked. He brushed his lips over Ben's earlobe, and Ben longed for him to bite.

"You told me... Fuck myself... With..." He couldn't say it, the words were right there, but his shame wouldn't let him say it.

"You fingered your ass while thinking of me?" Dean murmured. He nodded. "Ben, you're so naughty. Did you like it?"

He nodded again, the movement brushing his cheek against Dean's.

Dean stepped back and appraised him, eyes travelling his body from head to foot. "I asked you a question," Dean growled. "Did you like fingering your asshole while you pretended I watched?"

"Yes, sir. Very much, sir."

"God, Ben." He looked up to find Dean's cheeks rosy, but his eyes full of lust. "Take your clothes off."

He didn't understand at first, just stood there in shock. "Huh?"

"I said take your clothes off," Dean barked.

"Yessir," he said quickly. His hands were shaking as he unzipped his coat. He hung it up, then unbuttoned his shirt, the activity taking twice as long as normal because of his shaking hands. He looked up, worried about Dean's reaction. The look of pure lust on Dean's face was enough to spur him on. He kicked his shoes off and stepped out of his pants. His undershirt went next and he was sliding his underwear down his legs as he stepped towards Dean, his cock bobbing excitedly.

"You're already a mess," Dean chided, looking down as his swollen member. "Look at all that precum."

"Sorry, sir," he whispered.

"Is that from thinking of your shower?" Dean asked.

He was naked in Dean's front room, Dean's eyes on his skin like a caress. Goosebumps contracted his skin, making him feel ultra sensitive. "It's all from you, sir,"

Dean blushed, then his face turned cold, making him shiver in anticipation. "Follow me," Dean barked, turning abruptly. Ben took two steps, then Dean wheeled around. "No. On your hands and knees. You're my bitch, right?"

"Yes, sir," Ben moaned, Dean's words right from his fantasy this afternoon. He fell to his hands and knees eagerly.

"Better," Dean praised, then turned and headed towards his bedroom. He slapped his thigh twice. "Come on."

Ben followed, ignoring the discomfort to his knees. Dean looked back to check on him just before they entered the bedroom.

"I'd like to give you a treat before we have dinner, I think. Would you like a treat?"

"Yes, sir," Ben said, zero hesitation.

"Good boy," Dean praised. He sat down on the bed, then unzipped his fly. He parted it and pulled his long, hard cock out without pulling them down. There was something about how it looked, his dick hanging out from his open fly, that made Ben so hard it hurt.

He crawled forward, his body on autopilot. He pulled himself up, resting his hands on Dean's thighs as he took Dean's manhood into his mouth. Dean shivered, then his hands were in his hair, pressing his head down on his cock. "God, Ben..."

Ben sucked, savoring Dean's flavor as precum spread across his tongue. Dean moved his head, slowly sliding him up and down the engorged rod. Ben tried his best to make it better, sucking hard and lathing the underside with his tongue.

"I saved it for you," Dean said. Ben looked up and their eyes met. "Don't waste a drop, DeLuca. You understand?"

He nodded with Dean's cock in his mouth. Dean moaned, then threw his head back, his hands speeding up Ben's pace. Ben moved his hands, grabbing Dean's hips so he could go deeper, his hands sinking into Dean's flesh. Dean moaned again, and Ben relaxed his throat to take him deeper.

"God, Ben. So good. Gonna cum. Don't waste it. Swallow it, Ben. Swallow... Oh, god, Ben! Mmmm..."

Ben's mouth filled with cum and he struggled to swallow it all before the next bitter surge. His cock was so hard it ached, throbbing in time to his heartbeat. He wanted to touch himself, had never wanted to cum so bad in his whole life. He didn't touch himself, he held Dean's hips tighter to keep his hands from straying. Dean was in control, and knowing that made it that much better for him. Ben shivered as Dean rocked his cock in and out of his mouth, his chest doubled over around his head.

"So good," Dean cooed. He thought he felt Dean kiss his head, his hips still rocking in small rotations. "Fuck, Ben." He leaned back, releasing Ben's head. Ben continued to suck on the now softening cock in his mouth, enjoying the feeling of it shrinking in satisfaction. Dean pushed him off.

"Thank you, sir," Ben said, lowering his ass to the floor, still feeling like Dean's bitch. He liked it. He liked it a lot.

"Why are you thanking me?" Dean snapped. He looked a little panicked, then tucked his cock back into his underwear and went to stand up. "God, what am I doing? I'm sorry, you're so hard. I'm just-"

Ben didn't really think about it. He leapt up and knocked Dean back to the bed. Dean didn't fight it, Ben had the element of surprise. He decided he would play Dean's bitch, so he playfully began to lick Dean's face. Dean tried to push him away but was still post-orgasmic enough that it was ineffectual.