Chapter 1: The Best Laid Plans
Summary:
Ben thinks back to how it all started. Was it the beginning, or the beginning of the end?
[excerpt]:
Ben knows what it's like to have Phasma's mile-long legs and viselike thighs wrapped around his waist with nothing on besides a pair of 4-inch spiked, black, Alarc leather and mesh Louboutins digging into his hips, and he knows that if their best friend can't turn Hux onto the straight and narrow, no girl ever will.
Ben whispers. "You think that your ass-that sex with you-is worth a hundred fifty grand?!"
Hux laughs, goading Ben. "What, you think you're going to lose?"
~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~
April, 2017
Ben fought the wave of nausea which was slowly working its way from his gut to his throat, that acidic mix of orange juice and fear on an empty stomach as the elevator made its smooth ascent. He stared out the windowed walls, the greenery of Central Park becoming more visible as the cabs and pedestrians shrunk in the distance, crawling sluggishly in the afternoon rush hour, inching forward and burning fuel yet moving nowhere. He imagined there would be some incessant honking or angry shouts, but things were quiet in the soundproof cage, its four walls effectively shutting everything out aside from the gentle pinging which announced the passing of each floor.
The ride was slow, yet not slow enough. He watched as the tree line disappeared from under his feet, dust motes streaming in a haze of sunlight, blue sky and glass like stardust against his skin. His hands were sweaty, the weight of his keys digging into his palms, the sharp metal ridges imprinting into his flesh and onto his memory and reminding him once again of everything that he had to lose.
He raised his hand, tempted to press it against the streakless glass. It may very well be the last time he ever took this ride up, and he was suddenly filled with the crazy desire to leave some kind of a mark, even though its existence would be quickly scrubbed away, sanitized before he could even set foot out the door and back onto the streets.
He wondered if that was what Hux would do to him as well.
His best friend. So beautiful. So petty, so vindictive and so absolutely unforgiving.
Ben squeezed his eyes tight, a closed-eye hallucination of pink crisscrossed by floating capillaries, illuminated by the sun.
The girl was supposed to be inconsequential.
Hux was going to be furious.
How did things get so fucked up?
The elevator continued to ping, the numbers lighting at the 25th floor, then PH1 and PH2, before coming to a stop.
The doors swooshed open expectantly. Ben stood there for a second more before finally stepping out.
There was nowhere left to go but down.
~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~
October 7, 2016
Ben shifted gears and made the right from Park Avenue onto 82nd Street, the car's sleek, silver chassis turning the corner low and fast. It was a gorgeous October afternoon, the warmth of the sun battling with the crispness of the air. He shrugged out of his blazer and loosened his tie, happy there was no practice today and eager to get a head start on the three day holiday weekend. There were a lot of people milling about the streets, and the joggers and bikers were out in full force, their trim bodies, firm abs and narrowed hips boldly displayed in a rainbow of day-glo lycra and spandex.
Ben smirked. He knew that only those who were the most fit, who wanted to be seen, would choose such a route, in front of the crowds of Central Park and Museum Mile.
Not that there was anything wrong with that. Wanting to be seen was something Ben knew quite a bit about. Take his car, for instance. While his parents had insisted on buying him something "environmentally friendly" after he received his license, there was no way he was going to fold his 6-foot, 3-inch frame in some tiny, tree-hugging hybrid box. He had briefly considered a Tesla, but when he came upon the BMW i8, it was possibly the first time in his life that he believed in love at first sight.
He had never been surer of his choice. His parents bought him the car without argument, assuaging their guilt at how badly they had fucked up his life with their constant bickering and barely concealed disgust for one another while indulging in their desire to show off their politically correct eco-friendliness. Whatever their reasons, Ben came out the winner, walking away with 3,200 pounds and 357-horsepower of heart-stopping punch and spice grey leather that felt as great underneath his hands as it did underneath his feet.
The icing on the cake were the looks which the car inspired: the unconcealed, open-mouthed jealousy of his peers, and the slack-jawed stares of the rest of the population who thought that having an attention-grabbing, extravagance of a ride which cost nearly as much as the average middle-American home was just too much for a 17-year old without a job and with even littler responsibility.
Ben frowned as he spotted the line of cars near Hux's apartment, breathing a sigh of relief when he found a space. He pulled up closer. Twelve feet of unused city pavement, its yellowed paint flaking against the speckled asphalt, declaring it a 'No Standing' zone.
Ben glanced at his glove compartment and the pile of unpaid tickets which currently lay crumpled up against the unopened car manuals and his iPhone.
He had just enough room to pull in going forward, cutting off a cyclist as he edged closer to the line of tightly parked cars. The guy looked furious, his chest heaving angrily against his yellow and black print jersey. The upper half of his face was hidden under his helmet and behind his sunglasses, seemingly immobile, while the lower half flushed angrily against his tanned skin, his throat moving up and down and his mouth opening wide as it formed the word "Asshole."
Ben stepped out from behind the car's dihedral doors, slowly giving the biker the once-over before following it up with a two fingered salute. He turned and headed up the block to Hux, waiting a minute before looking back. By that time, the cyclist was long gone while Ben's car remained unscathed, its diplomatic plates a brilliant white and glaringly visible against the car's metallic paint and shadowline trim.
~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~
"Hi, Daniels. I'm here to see Armitage."
Ben stood by as the doorman phoned Hux. He liked Daniels, perhaps the most out of all the ones who manned the entrance to the building. He was the consummate professional, polite and smooth, and always treated Ben courteously, whether Ben came dressed in his school uniform or in his trainers and jeans, the same as he would to the fifty five-year old CEO in a three-piece suit. Daniels was unflappable, never raising an eyebrow even when Ben stumbles into the lobby in the early hours of the morning, pissed and high, hanging onto Hux and the new girl (or guy) du jour.
Daniels' egalitarianism was also an endless source of frustration, because Ben knew that he was better off than the majority who entered here by half.
Daniels nodded, leading Ben to a separate elevator as he keyed in his access to the penthouse floors. Ben hummed on the ride up, the doors sliding open silently as he reached his destination, the apartment's entrance filled with bright light and clean-edged lines and a slight sterility.
"Over here, on the terrace," Hux called out.
Hux was lounging carelessly in his chair. He hadn't bothered changing out of his uniform yet, although the the top two buttons of his shirt were now undone and his tie loosened. He leaned back, propping a bent knee against the corner table as he removed a Gauloises Brunes from its blue and silver packaging. There was a quick flash of pink from his tongue as he placed the cigarette between his lips. His thumb rolled over the ball of the lighter, its flame lapping at the end of the dark tobacco leaf before he released it, the paper and dried leaf hissing under its red glow.
Ben wrinkled his nose at the strong smell.
"That's gross, especially being unfiltered and all. You know you're going to be dead before fifty if you keep smoking that shit."
Hux just looked at Ben coolly, taking a slow, gentle drag.
"Well, I guess I'd better make the best out of the next thirty-two, then." Hux patted the seat next to him. "Don't just stand there. Put your stuff down." He blew out a large puff of smoke in Ben's direction. "We'll get sick together."
Ben plopped down next to Hux, fidgeting around the bottom of his messenger bag until he pulled out a baggie and some rolling papers from the inside zippered pocket. He wonders briefly if he should ask Hux's permission first. Even though they're on the rooftop terrace and pretty high up, there are a couple of taller buildings several blocks to the east, and Ben's pretty sure he's seen some people peering down on the activities that have gone on here in the past, especially at night
He looks up at Hux through the fringe of his hair which falls down untamed over the front of his face to see if Hux is going to say anything, but the redhead has on the same placid expression, as if he couldn't care less what Ben is doing, so Ben distributes the mix evenly and neatly over the paper and deftly rolls it outwards with his thumbs and forefingers until it's firm and tight.
He leans forward. Hux looks slightly put out but flicks on the lighter for Ben anyway. He leans back sighing, the air filling up with a sweet, dank and earthy scent.
Hux breaks the silence.
"What do you think of Rey Kenobi?"
Ben looks up languidly, his pupils already beginning to dilate.
"Hmmmm?"
Hux fixes Ben with a stare. "Rey Kenobi. What. do. you. think. of. her?"
Ben looks at Hux with a half-lidded gaze.
"Mmm. I don't, really. I mean, she's on the fencing team with me, but we don't really hang or anything." Ben didn't know much about her, but from what he's seen, the girl was a little too clean cut, and her unflappable optimism and sense of propriety a bit too much for his tastes.
Hux looked thoughtful.
"You know," he drawled. "After what happened last month...it's rumored that she's the last remaining virgin in our class."
He let the words linger in the air, the pungent smell of tobacco and sweet weed circling around them in a haze.
"Mmmm," Ben answers noncommittally in response. He really doesn't want to think about Rey Kenobi right now.
Hux looks at Ben suddenly, with a gleam in his eye. In hindsight, Ben should have paid more attention.
"What's the most valuable thing that you own, Benjamin Solo?"
Ben laughs. "That's easy. My car."
Hux shrugs at the answer and says "Hmmm," under his breath, as if he's in disagreement about its worth.
Ben huffs. "What?"
Hux incompletely stamps out his cigarette, not looking at Ben.
"It's a bit flashy, don't you think." He phrases it in a way that's not a question, but a statement of fact.
Ben looks at him, hurt. The car is his pride and joy, and its flashiness is one of the things that he happens to love about it, and damn it, if Hux doesn't like it, he doesn't have to ride in it again, either. There are plenty of others who would gladly take his place.
Instead he comes back with, "Well, how about you? What's the most valuable thing you own?"
Hux looks up, his green eyes bright, a small, knowing smile on his lips.
"My virginity."
Ben chokes, coughing furiously as the smoke fills his lungs too quickly.
"What the fuck are you talking about, Hux?" he sputters. "You've been sleeping around for years. 'Virginity,' my ass."
Hux looked at Ben. "No, actually more like my ass. I've never bottomed."
And with that, he smiles slyly, flashing those white teeth of his with a wicked look in his eyes, and Ben feels his cheeks flame and the air leave him in a rush as he whispers "Oh," and he's instantly hard.
Ben's wanted Hux for at least the last four years-possibly more, although he may not have realized it at the time, during his budding sexual self-awareness. But there was always the threat of a physical relationship destroying their friendship, and up until now, the most that ever happened between the two was a blowjob last month, the collected winnings of one of their competitive bets. It was the first time that Ben had ever experienced the heaviness of Hux's cock against his tongue, or felt the stretch of his lips around Hux's delicious girth. He's jerked off in the weeks in between to the memories of his scent, the tickle of his hair while he swallowed him whole, and the salty, bitter taste of his come down his throat, yet Ben knows that it isn't enough, that there is still so much more. That he wants so much more.
He doesn't know why-or how-Hux makes him feel this way. Ben's is a diplomat's son, with a lineage and connections to European royalty for God's sake, yet this product of a nouveau riche American entrepreneur and a British woman addicted to the idea of serial matrimony makes Ben feel as inexperienced and lacking as the kid who's relegated to taking the number 7 train to school every day. With Hux, Ben feels self-conscious, and can't quite shake the idea that he'll never be good enough.
Ben's known that he's needed Hux for the last eight years. He knew it from the minute Hux had walked in with the teacher in front of their fifth grade class, a stranger in a new country and in a new school, standing in front of a group of foreigners with his gangly confidence and grace. He had come from England after living with his newly remarried mom, who had been busy gallivanting across Europe, too self-absorbed to spend the necessary time with a curious, ten-year old boy. Or so he said. It was also rumored that Hux had gotten himself into a spot of trouble, and that his dad needed him closer to home. But whatever the reasons, here he was, and here he stayed, his accented tones now blending through the years into a mix of Yank and Brit, his beautifully lithe and adolescent lines and sharp features adding to his intrigue in what's added up to be a gorgeous and utterly unattainable package.
Ben found a way to relate, growing up in a family where they frequently traveled, and where his mother or father were gone so often it was almost like living with a single parent. But the difference was that Ben's parents never disrupted his learning or his life with their personal dalliances, and his parents had always surrounded him with people who grounded him and who were available to take care of him in their stead. Hux, on the other hand, was dragged from place to place, city to city, country to country, until he was afraid to make connections, unable to put down roots.
For Hux, influence was everything. Trust was illusory. Permanence was non-existent.
Right now, his pale green eyes were boring into Ben's, framed beneath his long golden lashes and an arched brow.
"I have a proposition," he starts, and Ben's breath catches in his throat, because he knows that whatever it is, it's going to be good.
"I want you to take Rey's virginity, and then break her heart."
Ben winces. He doesn't know the girl-he doesn't even like her very much, really, but it seems a bit harsh.
"Why?"
"Let's just say that I've had my eye on someone, and Rey's proved to be quite the nuisance. An unfortunate roadblock, to me getting my way."
Ben's seized by an ugly flash of jealousy upon hearing this. Hux is actually asking him to clear the way so he can fuck someone else, when all Ben wants is that person to be him.
His next words come out slightly strangled. "And why should I do that?"
Hux laughs, a silvery sound that causes Ben to shiver.
"Well, if you won't do it as a favor to me...then perhaps another wager is in order? I want you to bed Rey and then break up with her. If you fail, I win the keys to your precious car. And if you succeed, I'll finally give you what you've been wishing for all this time."
Ben's voice comes out in a squeak. "And what do you think that is?"
Hux laughs again, leaning forward, his breath hot against Ben's ear.
"Me. All of me. Every. single. bit."
Ben's head is swimming, and he's still having a difficult time processing everything Hux is saying. Maybe it's the warm, late afternoon sun, or it's the premium Hawaiian Black, or it's the images of him bending Hux over the outdoor seating and finally getting his way, but he can't wrap his head around what Hux is asking him to do.
"But why don't you just do it?"
Hux looks at Ben as if he were a silly child. "You know I don't have sex with girls."
Ben knew that. He thought about Phasma. Over six feet of leggy, buxom blonde, with the bluest eyes and the sharpest tongue, and an even greater sexual appetite and devious mind. Ben knows what it's like to have Phasma's mile-long legs and viselike thighs wrapped around his waist with nothing on besides a pair of 4-inch spiked, black, Alarc leather and mesh Louboutins digging into his hips, and he knows that if their best friend can't turn Hux onto the straight and narrow, no girl ever will.
Ben whispers. "You think that your ass-that sex with you-is worth a hundred fifty grand?!"
Hux laughs, goading Ben. "What, you think you're going to lose?"
And then Ben looks at Hux-really looks at Hux. It's like a flip switches, and suddenly all Ben can think about is how hot, filthy and deliciously sexy he is. His school-issued khakis just seem to fit a little tighter than most, and it's criminal the way they sit, lowered over the bony jut of his hips, hugging his perfect ass. His collar lays open, his pulse visible to the side, showing off the delicate line of his clavicle until it hollows out underneath his throat. His tie was loosened just so, begging to either pulled forward and off or to be slowly tightened until it's snug around that pale, thin neck.
Hux ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he caught Ben staring, and Ben nearly lets out a moan at it's plump moistness.
Hux was fucking gorgeous, and Ben knew he would do whatever it took to have him.
"I'll do it," he chokes out.
Hux's lips are suddenly on his, and the force of the kiss is enough to knock Ben back against the chair. Suddenly, those khaki pants are pressing into Ben's own, his zipper hard against his stiffening cock, with Hux's bony hip digging into his thigh. Hux tastes of smoke and cloves and sweetness, his lips thin and soft, yet cruel and hard, as his tongue swipes over Ben's lips and probes his mouth in an unrelenting assault of the senses.
Ben feels the hard line of their erections rubbing against one another, and he rolls his hips and grinds, and he's embarrassed at how turned on he is, so much so that it's all he can do to stop from coming in his pants from that sweet friction, until Hux pulls away, smirking.
"Fuck, Hux." Ben fights to keep his hips still at the sudden loss. Hux is looking down at him with an expression on his face as if to say, You greedy cockslut, as Ben fights the desire to rut against the air, his eyes wild and pleading.
Hux sits back, picking up the cigarette he had put down to the side. He flicks the long line of ash, and as Ben watches the slow, receding glow, he notices that Hux's breath has quickened, that his fingers shake so very, very slightly, and that he's run his hand through his hair to smooth it back into place.
Hux looks at Ben for a minute. They stay silent, the air growing cooler as the sun begins to set, a reddish-orange hue against concrete blocks of grey.
Hux's face is half-covered in shadow. "Ben?" He sounds so innocent, even as his eyes flash dangerously.
Ben looks up. Wanting. Waiting.
Hux exhales, baring his teeth as he murmurs his words into Ben's throat.
"I guarantee that it would be worth every single fucking penny."