Leslie and Ben moved like they had all the time in the world.
Because, they reasoned, now they did.
These were not hurried kisses or desperate hands or tearing clothes, but slow and certain movements, with the intent to feel everything, to be present for every moment. Leslie took Ben back to her place with every intention of keeping him there all night.
"But what about Mark?" Ben whispered to her in the car. His hand wouldn't leave hers, no matter what.
"He's gone tonight," she told him. "Out with friends. He's not coming back until after work tomorrow."
"And then what?" Ben nearly gasped, and she knew exactly what he was asking. She squeezed his hand tighter.
"And then I leave him," she said, without a hint of doubt, or regret. "And I take my engagement ring off."
"And then?" he egged on, as if desperate for that validation. She couldn't blame him.
"And then we tell Chris. And we let everything unfold from there. But I'm not going to let anything stop me from being with you."
There were happy tears in Ben's eyes that he tried to hide, but she saw them. She saw them as they pulled into her driveway, and as they walked into her house, and as they held hands up to her bedroom. She wiped under his eyes and kissed his cheeks where they were wet, and he just held her.
Every kiss was slow. They would have eternity for faster ones. They pressed their lips together and breathed in the scent of the other, memorizing the taste of each other. Ben's hands wandered, massaging her hips with purposeful strokes, before gripping her red coat and slipping it off her shoulders.
Leslie stepped backwards until her knees hit the edge of her bed, and she spun them so Ben was sitting down, crawling over to straddle his lap. With just that brief moment, she missed the feeling of his lips against hers and she reconnected them, leaning into him, her fingers working to undo the buttons on his plaid shirt.
Always plaid. That was the Ben Wyatt she knew and loved.
She loved him. She really, really did. And she would tell him that, too, but she realized suddenly that she didn't have to, just then. She didn't have to blurt out that she loved him because she wouldn't have another chance. No, there would be time. There would be so, so much time. And right now, she just wanted to feel his hands on her.
As soon as she pulled his shirt from his body, his fingers twisted on the hem of her shirt and got rid of it for her, tossing it to her bedroom floor. His hands explored her stomach, so soft, tracing her waist with his fingers. He wouldn't move on until he touched every inch of her exposed skin, his other hand burying itself in her hair while his lips kissed down her throat. She breathed in slowly, her eyelids fluttering, her own hands pressed to his chest.
Leslie gasped as Ben sucked hard on the skin of her neck, running his tongue over it, and for a split second, she worried about explaining hickeys to Mark. But then, she reasoned, none of that would matter anymore. The ring still on her finger meant nothing to her, and she would be leaving Mark soon enough.
But then again, did she want Mark to know she had been cheating on him with Ben? She was scared, but not for her sake, but rather Ben's. She knew how Mark got, and the last thing she wanted was for Ben to take the fall for her against Mark. He didn't deserve that. So, despite the fact she really, really didn't want to, she gently pushed him from her neck and cupped his face in her hands.
"Careful," she whispered to him. "I don't want to make this harder on you. He could hurt you."
Ben frowned, and she saw the slight panic in his eyes. "I— I'm not… afraid of him."
Leslie giggled, and pressed her forehead to his. "You're cute, babe. And as much as I love your mouth on my neck, I think I'd rather have it somewhere else right now."
That line did the trick. Ben's look turned mischievous, and he captured her lips once more, just as a placeholder while he worked on the clasp of her pants. Where once she was straddling him, she was now underneath him on her bed, lifting her hips so he could get rid of her pants. He trailed kisses down her body, every inch he could reach, mumbling against her skin.
"Ben," she whispered as his hands ghosted over the strap of her bra. She noticed the way he smiled. "Ben."
"I like when you say my name," he said, and he lifted her back to unclasp her bra, tossing that aside too. His fingers grazed over her breasts, so softly as if she might disappear if he pressed too hard. "I've always loved when you say my name. It's why I… I couldn't stand it when we were broken up. Everytime you say it, I just want to kiss you."
If that was true, Leslie was most definitely making a note of that, because she could use that in the future. "Is that so?" she laughed, and then, because she couldn't quite help herself: "Ben."
There was a low rumble deep in his throat as he stayed true to his word, kissing her fiercely, holding her tightly. His hands stayed cupped to her breasts, memorizing the way they felt in his hands, taking his time in moving forward. Long fingers rolled over her nipples and pinched them, eliciting a gasp from her that Ben swallowed. He was smiling when he pulled away, his eyes heavy lidded and dark.
"Will you keep saying my name?" he asked her, wiggling down her body.
"Always," she whispered.
He was encouraged by this, and continued to trail loving kisses down her stomach, to her hips, then to her thighs, at which point a shiver ran down Leslie's spine. He rubbed her thighs, up to her hips, until his fingers hooked around her underwear, removing her last article of clothing and throwing that aside too. He took a moment, pulling back, just to stare at her, to take her completely in, spreading her legs just slightly.
Ben sighed and looked into her eyes. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"
The words were just as soft as his fingers, and she felt the fluttering in her heart, the way she exhaled audibly, the faint blush in her cheeks. She was growing needy for him, and his words absolutely did it for her.
Ben returned to the task at hand, spreading her legs further, kissing up her inner thigh. This was only the second time they had done specifically this, but the one time before now was enough to know how much Ben enjoyed going down on her as much as she did. And Ben was very excellent at it too, despite the fact that the last time it happened, it was a very rushed job in Ann's bathroom before she came home. But now? Now, they had all the time in the world. And Ben seemed determined to make it last and to make her feel good.
His face was hovering between her legs, and she felt his soft breaths, making her squirm with anticipation. She lifted her head to see him better, and he took the opportunity to raise his hand to her, holding two fingers up to her lips. His fingers slipped into her mouth and she closed on them, making direct eye contact with him as she sucked, until he felt satisfied enough.
Ben smirked at her, slid both fingers from her mouth, and then slowly pushed them inside her, painfully slow, causing her body to seize up. Her back arched just slightly as he pulled back, and then pushed his fingers back in, and maybe going slow was torturous and amazing and teasing and beautiful. He held her down by her hips and then, with no warning, his mouth was on her clit, his tongue swirling, and now her body was really reacting. Her hands shot down to curl into Ben's hair, pushing him into her, which he accepted with ease as encouragement, moaning against her grinding hips.
He didn't move slowly forever. As her legs began to tremble and she was verging on tearing his hair out of his skull, his fingers pushed faster and faster into her, his tongue working harder than ever. The moans that escaped her lips grew louder and louder, and she was panting his name, declaring it for the world to hear. Ben. Ben Wyatt. Everything that mattered in the whole entire world was Benjamin Walker Wyatt, and when Leslie finally came, it was with an explosion of emotions.
She lay trembling underneath him, her back arched and her heels digging into the mattress, one hand in his hair and the other clutching the sheets. There was his name, one more time, strangled between a loud moan, and she swore she'd never once had an orgasm like this before. Her mind was blank, or numb, and all she felt was Ben, and his hands on her, and his warmth, and how he made her feel loved and beautiful and safe and like no one had ever made her feel like before.
They shoved Ben's pants off, and, quicker than they had moved all night, had torn open a condom package, Leslie sitting up to ride him and impaling herself on his dick. They moaned together, and she grinded her hips against him, reveling in the way she could make him come undone, studying how his eyes fluttered shut and his mouth hung open a little, how his hands gripped her hips and guided her as she bounced up and down on top of him. She liked the way his moans were more like strangled gasps and he could hardly get a word out besides her name in between them. Hushed, deep, and low in his throat: "Leslie…"
Ben leaned forwards to wrap his arm around her waist, the other still steady on her hip, their bodies pressed to each other so tightly there wasn't an inch of room. Chest to chest, and also forehead to forehead, feeling each other's heavy breaths on their skin. She wanted to be as close as possible to him for all the times that she couldn't be, as if to erase every moment they wanted to touch each other but couldn't.
They came together, swallowing each other's gasps by pressing their lips together, finding difficulty in keeping it together. Ben and Leslie were shaking against each other, both sweaty and warm, but they still didn't let go, not for a second. Not even when Leslie climbed off his dick and collapsed on top of him, feeling so hot but not hot enough to leave his side.
She rested her head on his chest and they didn't even bother to put their clothes back on or pull on any blankets as they started drifting aimlessly into sleep. She felt it behind her eyes, the pull of sleep, so much easier when she was in Ben's arms.
"Thank you," Ben whispered to her after a couple of minutes, fingers tracing up and down her arm.
Leslie smiled into his chest. "For what?"
"For choosing me."
She opened her eyes and lifted her head just enough to look at him, eager to catch those brown eyes, to see the way they gazed at her. There was so much love there, so much care; she never wanted Ben to stop looking at her like this. "You don't have to thank me," she told him. "I'll always choose you. My heart chose you before I even knew that it did. My mind just needed a little bit of catching up." She smiled, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Do you remember when you almost left Pawnee and I ran to your house and put you to bed while you were drunk?"
He chuckled. "It was a very hard night."
"Well, I made a promise to you that night, on a piece of paper before I left."
Stay with me, Wyatt, and I'll stay too. Let's both keep our promises.
"I already broke that promise, at one point," Leslie continued. "But now? I have every intention of staying for as long as you'll have me, Wyatt."
Ben held her tighter and smiled into her hair. "I'm not going anywhere, Knope. I promise."
She held up her pinky, and he laughed, interlocking his own with hers and shaking. "There!" she said. "It's pinky promise official. Looks like you're stuck with me."
"There's nowhere I'd rather be stuck." Ben nudged her gently. "Now go to bed, honey. Big, big day tomorrow."
/
Ben didn't fall asleep for a long time.
Not because he wasn't comfortable, because he honestly didn't think he had ever been more at home in his life. No, he couldn't sleep because he chose not to, because there was a beautiful woman lying on his chest that he was in love with and he wanted to savor that moment for as long as humanly possible.
It was a treat to watch Leslie fall asleep, because she so rarely did it on time. He loved the way that sleep took her, first with fluttering eyelashes and a slight jerking of her limbs as if she was subconsciously fighting it, but then falling into it completely, deep breaths and all, looking so soft and peaceful and beautiful that goddammit, all Ben wanted to do was stare at her all night and watch her breathe.
So many things had happened in only twenty four hours, but Ben didn't regret a single thing. As soon as the words had slipped from Leslie's mouth, "let's just say screw it," Ben knew he was powerless to keep his feelings at bay any longer. Every time she said his name, every time she said screw it, every time she said she chose him, his heart bursted for her, and he didn't regret kissing her in that smallest park for the world. He didn't regret taking her back to her place, and making love to her in her bed, because he knew this was exactly where he was supposed to be. There was no future for Ben Wyatt that didn't include Leslie Knope.
She looked so small in sleep, but that didn't reduce the power she exuded, even when she wasn't doing anything. Not that she was silent, not at all. She talked in her sleep. It was something Ben realized before, between stolen naps and secret nights together, but he never really appreciated it like he should have. Before, it was just something that woke him up, something he wouldn't listen to, but now, it was everything to him. He laid next to her and cuddled her close and was reminded that she was real and alive and here with every jerk of her body, every political speech she came up with in her sleep, every bit of random nonsense that would only make sense in her dreams.
Ben became very aware, as he finally started to fall into sleep by the soothing nature of her voice on his ears, that this was it for him. He should be insecure, or even distrustful or afraid, after all they had been through, with the affair and the scandal and having only just come together after being broken up and fighting, but he wasn't. He really wasn't. There was no real fear, and he had no reason not to trust her, or worry about his standing when it came to her heart.
In fact, Ben had never been so sure about anything in his life.
He fell asleep with that thought, but for some reason, it felt short lived. He could've sworn that he had just closed his eyes when he was slowly opening them again, her bedroom a little lighter this time, soft sunlight streaming through the curtains. Leslie was still fast asleep on his chest, naked and with her whole body wrapped around him, and there was a slight rustling that couldn't have come from her.
The bedroom door creaked, and for a moment, Ben thought he was in a dream.
"What the fuck is going on?"
Mark Brendanawicz was standing in the doorway.