A/N: Tired...aced my mid-term for Anth441, I may be looking at all A's and one B this semester depending on how I do on my finals, kind of psyched about that, and only two more weeks of classes left, psyched about that too. Then I have a couple weeks off, then its back for more classes!
A heartfelt thank you to the reviewers, you guys make my world go round.
And a big thank you for Greg, still managing to get me edits despite his busy weekend out of town.
XVII.
The range wouldn't be cleared for the four unharnessed teenagers to being training until noon, so instead Jimmy went over rifle cleaning. It brought them back to day one and field stripping, but he gave them each a gun this time – showing them how to clear the chambers as he handed them off – and then let them follow along as he took apart a rifle and demonstrated the delicate task of cleaning out the inner workings.
"When you're a full-fledged fighter, you'll get a rifle of your own that you'll keep with you at all times," Jimmy explained, passing the bottle of lube around the room as he spoke, "You'll be expected to keep it clean and in working order. If you don't maintain your weapon, it can jam on you in battle and then…well…you're dead."
"This stuff is disgusting," Gia complained, making a face as some of the lubricant spurted over her fingers and hand.
"You know, I really feel like you should have bought us drinks before pulling out lube," Douglas joked and Roman smirked at him, while Gia smacked his shoulder warningly, wiping the lubricant off her hand onto his sleeve in the process.
"Ah…Gee…this is my good shirt," Douglas whined and Gia stuck her tongue out at him.
Jimmy just rolled his eyes and then looked curiously to Kelsey. She sat quietly in the corner, her rifle was in pieces but she had yet to actually work on it. She had her chin propped in a palm and gazed blankly out the window. Jimmy crossed the room to her and waved a hand in her face to gain her attention. She peered up at him inquisitively.
"Come on, Kelsey, I know it's boring, but you have to know how to do this," Jimmy said gently.
"What's going to happen?" Kelsey returned and Jimmy quirked a brow, confused as to her meaning, he'd been over the dangers of not caring for your weapon, but she further elucidated, "Now that the mission to destroy the alien structure has been cancelled?"
Jimmy perked a brow, "How did you…"
The others straightened interestedly, their eyes locked on Jimmy and he glanced around the room at them then took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets. 'How did they know', he stupidly asks as if he couldn't easily figure that one out. It was the same way Ben always knew what people said about him around camp.
Jimmy's heart thundered in his chest, and he was well aware that all four of those teenagers could hear that as well, which made him a tad self-conscious. It didn't make sense to him, why were they letting him in on their abilities? Was it as Weaver predicted, they thought they could trust him because of his relationship with Ben? Or was there another reason? One he wasn't privy to knowing yet, one he may not ever want to know?
"Nothing, nothing is going to happen," Jimmy replied quietly, "We're just going to focus on the move now."
"We're always running," Kelsey noted, her eyes dropping solemnly to the rifle pieces scattered in front of her.
Jimmy wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, he agreed, he hated that they never struck back against the aliens, but on the other hand, he understood the practicality of Weaver's call to pull back. Of course, he was also a little biased as going through with the attack had meant Ben would undoubtedly be the one running blind into the battlefield.
"You know, the plan wouldn't have been cancelled if it weren't for your stupid razorback, brat," Roman commented, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head. Jimmy darted a fervid glance to the older boy, biting on his inner cheek and balling his hands instinctively into fists.
"What the hell are you talking about? Ben had nothing to do with that decision," Jimmy argued, "He tried to convince Weaver to go through with the attack but Dai thought it was too dangerous."
"Not the way I hear," Roman replied casually, a smug sneer on his lip, and Jimmy understood his intended meaning, Roman heard the truth firsthand, he didn't 'hear' the 'truth' from Ben. The others watched on amusedly and Jimmy struggled to match Roman glare for glare, but he flustered from the heated attentions and the implied meaning in the other boy's words, having to drop his gaze to gather his wits, as Roman revealed, "He slipped off during the op…stole away from the others, same as he steals away in the night. Off to meet with the Skitter enemy. They cancelled the mission because they don't trust him."
Jimmy bit too hard on his cheek, wincing. He was sure his stomach had fallen out, spilled over the floor. He tried to give Roman nothing, but he could feel himself squirming, and that self-satisfied smirk on the older boy's face was more than enough confirmation that he'd had some evident outward reaction to that new information.
"Of course, you didn't know about that," Roman persisted, "Because he didn't tell you. Another lie. It's a shame; really…all he ever does is lie to you."
"Shut up," Jimmy murmured, hating how weak his words sounded, "If he didn't tell me about it, that doesn't make it a lie. It just didn't come up. Weaver didn't cancel the mission because he doesn't trust Ben; he cancelled it because it was the right thing to do. We had no clue what was waiting down there…"
"After two days of recon, how the hell could we know?" Douglas bit out, and Jimmy flinched, shaking his head furiously at them.
"Dai and Hal and Pope have enough experience in planning battles that they're more than capable of making a call like that based off just a few hours of recon. Two days is more than enough time for any one of them to read a situation like that," Jimmy returned, not entirely certain how truthful he was being and not caring in the least, "And I'm sure if Ben took off during the mission, he had his reasons. Did you overhear that, by any chance, his reasons? Or do you even care?"
"Do you care?" Roman shot back, "Tell us, brat, what are his reasons. Why does he sneak off in the night to visit Skitters and come back with lies about strolls around the perimeter? What did he tell you when you asked him about it?"
Jimmy scowled, remained silent, glaring hard at the floor. He couldn't exactly confess to them that he knew what Ben snuck off to do at night. They might feel they can tell them their dark-alien secret, but he definitely knew he couldn't trust them with any of his or Ben's secrets.
"He said nothing, huh?" Roman barked out harsh laughter, "Because you didn't ask, right? Your blind faith in him is disgustingly stupid, brat, you should know that."
"It's not blind," Jimmy protested, he paced away from the group and muttered, "I don't understand why you hate him so much. I mean, how can you talk about him like that, shouldn't you be a little more understanding. You're the same-"
There was a shrill shriek of Roman's chair scraping across the tiled floor, and before Jimmy had a chance to even realize that the other boy was on the move, Roman had grabbed Jimmy by the shoulder and jerked him violently back around so that they stood facing one another, mere inches between them.
"I will only tell you this one more time. He and I are not the same," Roman seethed.
Jimmy flinched back involuntarily from the force of Roman's tone. He dropped his eyes from the other boy, flustered from the hard glare, swirling something sinister and violent, which bore down on him, and discomforted by the close proximity. He didn't like the way the other boy seemed to overwhelm his senses, a blistering heat rolling off that well-toned frame, a spicy scent like anise and saffron overpowering, soaking into Jimmy's very being.
"No," Jimmy conceded between grit teeth, turning up his blue eyes, their chill piercing through copper, "You're right. Ben's not a macho-freak asshole."
"Better than being a Skitter-hybrid," Roman bit out.
"Isn't that exactly what you are?" Jimmy returned plaintively.
He barely had time to register the strike when he suddenly found himself stumbling towards the ground. He caught himself before toppling completely, his ears ringing and eyes blurred with fresh sprung tears, and recovered in time to partially dodge the full-force of Roman's next swing.
Jimmy reeled to the side and back a few paces, instincts taking over at the kick of adrenaline in his veins, he pushed a desk between himself and Roman, used the obstacle to maneuver to Roman's left side, and attempted to twist the older boy into an arm lock he'd learned from Dai awhile back.
Unfortunately, Jimmy didn't have the leverage to execute it, and ended up tackled onto the ground where he knew, regrettably, he stood little chance of succeeding over the older, much larger, much stronger boy.
Regardless, Jimmy fought hard; jabbing at Roman's face and throat every opportunity he had while trying to keep the other boy from landing any substantial hits on him. It helped that Roman's strikes were sloppy, uncoordinated, and guided by sheer force of rage alone.
Jimmy cursed the ache in his shoulder and sting in his thigh; both injuries were bothering him enough to hinder his struggle. Roman managed to clop Jimmy across the brow, but despite the near-loss of consciousness from the well-placed hit, Jimmy was somehow able to scramble out from under the boy and sink a foot in his gut.
Roman doubled over and Jimmy used the last of his strength to swing out his leg and knock Roman across the head, effectively dropping the other boy.
Jimmy shuffled backwards several paces from the unconscious Roman, in a semi-crab-walk across the floor, never taking his eyes off the limp form, and pressing his back against the wall, struggling to catch his breath. His heart raced in his chest, adrenaline pumped viciously through his veins. He could taste blood filling his mouth and his head throbbed horribly. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the other three teens gaping at him wide-eyed, as equally stunned as he was that he had somehow proved the victor in that fight.
After several seconds passed, Jimmy climbed shakily to his feet and, without a single word or glance to the other teens, he strode from the room.
…
Ben watched Matt slide pieces across the chessboard, smiling lightly. They had been playing the same game for the past half-hour, and even though he could beat his younger brother in five moves – it was four his last turn and seven the turn before that – he kept intentionally moving nonessential pieces, prolonging the game.
As much as Ben would have liked to finish his morning encounter with Jimmy, part of him was vaguely pleased that things turned out this way. He hadn't sat down to a game of chess in weeks, and he hadn't spent more than a span of five minutes with Matt in about as long.
His turn over, Matt rest his chin in the palm of his hand and looked up expectantly at his older brother. Ben made a show of pondering his next move, even though he'd already planned it three moves prior.
"I'm sorry," Matt murmured and Ben furrowed his brow, and then perked it at the younger boy.
"For?" he prompted.
"Walking into the tent," Matt answered. He lowered his eyes and sheepishly confessed, "I lied before. I saw you coming back to camp," he folded an arm across the table and dropped his head to it, whispering in a muffled voice, "And I saw Jimmy go in too…"
Ben remained silent a moment, glaring at the chessboard and letting his anger ripple through him. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath.
"Why would you do that?" Ben demanded, "If you knew we were in there, why would you…"
"Because I didn't want Jimmy in the tent," Matt snapped.
Ben flinched, narrowing his eyes on his younger brother, feeling a strange kind of hurt by that admission, like a yawning soreness in his chest and head. Matt had always espoused how much he liked Jimmy; the other boy was kind to him, hung out and played games with him on occasion. It didn't make sense that he would want Jimmy banned from the tent.
"What? Why?" Ben wondered brazenly.
"I don't know," Matt whimpered, petulant, pouting at the chessboard and pressing, "I just don't want him in there. It's not his tent. It's our tent."
"Right now it's my tent and I want him in there, so he can come in whenever he wants," Ben argued, "And next time you know he's there, stay out. In fact, just stay out all the time. Don't come in the tent ever."
"But Hal said…" Matt whined.
"I don't care what Hal said. You and Hal can sleep in the community center, I can't," Ben growled, "So at the very least, leave me the tent."
"You can sleep in the community center too. Nobody said you can't," Matt persisted, straightening and folding his arms over his chest as he spat out, "Everyone thinks you're a freak because you act like one, it's not just because of those things in your back."
Ben opened his mouth, no sound came out, so he clamped it shut again. He gaped at Matt, uncertain of how to feel, how to even go about feeling. He wasn't entirely sure if that was his younger brother's true thoughts on the subject or if someone had told him that, but it didn't matter. It stung like a knife slipped between his shoulder blades all the same.
"It wouldn't be so bad if you just acted normal," Matt went on, his voice low and shaky with an uneven faith.
"This is my normal now, Matt," Ben whispered, "I know it's hard to understand, but I can't just go back to being who I was. I'm not that person anymore."
"Why?" Matt cried, "You're still you. You still like playing chess and reading all the same books…"
"Yeah," Ben agreed, "But just because some things are still the same with me, Matt, that doesn't mean that nothing has changed. I can't act the way that I used to because that isn't who I am anymore. I'm different." He closed his eyes and shook his head, explaining softly, "Everyone thinks I'm a freak because I am a freak."
"That's not true," Matt said, but there wasn't much conviction in his words, which hurt Ben in its own special way. Even as Matt seemed intent on arguing that Ben could be normal, that he wasn't the freak everyone proclaimed him to be, it was evident Matt didn't believe it to be true anymore than the next 2nd Mass-er.
Ben sighed, glaring again at the chessboard and all his strategically positioned pieces. He couldn't even change clothes, or at the very least, be shirtless in front of his own brothers anymore. Although Hal would pretend not to look at the spikes protruding from Ben's spine, in that pointed effort, he accomplished making Ben feel exactly the rejected emotion he had been attempting to avoid. Matt, on the other hand, wouldn't stand to be in the same room with the exposed spikes. He didn't like seeing them, they frightened him. Sometimes Ben caught Matt staring at the ones visible along the base of his neck, wide eyes shimmering with uncontained fear. Fear of what they stood for, fear of the possibilities, just plain, unadulterated fear. That simple expression on his younger brother's face, for Ben, was more painful than anything any of the other members of the 2nd Mass could ever say about him.
For a fleeting moment, Ben flashed on Jimmy's fingers twined around those metal rods, strumming along them like the strings of an instrument as he played every erotic note to perfection. He wondered what Jimmy would say, were he sitting there, would he agree that Ben was a freak and nothing could be done about it or would he side with Matt, agreeing that all Ben had to do was forget the harness and what it had done to him and return to being that gawky, four-eyed geek that played chess like a master and took the long way to class to avoid getting beat-up at school. In a peculiar twist of his heart, Ben wasn't sure which side he would want Jimmy to take.
"When we find dad, will he be different too?" Matt wondered quietly and Ben blinked back from his musings and refocused on the younger boy.
"What?" He had heard the question, but he wasn't sure he understood it.
"The aliens took dad alive," Matt elucidated, "Which means they wanted him alive, right? They must have wanted him so they could do something to him. That's why they take kids alive, so they can harness them. But they don't harness adults, so they're probably doing something else to him."
"Yeah, I guess," Ben murmured. He hadn't spent much time musing on what the aliens wanted their father for, most of his thoughts on the subject went to elaborate plans of rescue that always proved to be little more than wishful daydreams. It was a tad disturbing to hear his younger brother working out such complex, if not slightly macabre, hypotheses. Matt used to need their mother to explain the intricacies of a Pokémon episode.
"Do you think they have harnesses for adults? Can they even harness adults?" Matt asked.
"I don't know," Ben answered, he furrowed his brow and leaned forward on the table, his elbows propped against the edge, "Biologically, adults aren't that different from children…and they've taken teenagers as old as seventeen, which is well passed puberty, we've seen them."
Matt wrinkled his brow, some of the words clearly stumped him, but he seemed interested and his musings had kicked Ben's mind into gear. Suddenly Ben found himself postulating on ideas he had never before considered, though now that he reflected on them, it seemed incredibly remiss of him to overlook their possibilities, when the him before never would have made such a grievous mistake.
"But the harnesses probably work on a neurological level. It might be easier to influence brain function in a brain that's still developing," Ben continued, "Neural networks are still mapping themselves out, it makes sense that the harness can more readily deter synapses pathways that are newer or just beginning to form.
"Of course, in adults synapses are always breaking down and rebuilding themselves anyways, so it can't be that difficult. It makes more sense that their preference for children in harnessing has less to do with adults being harder to control and more to do with the genetic manipulations the harness makes on the host body," Ben went on, rubbing a hand over his feverish forehead as the rapidly developing thoughts spilled unbidden from his mouth, the feeling was almost akin to the rush of adrenaline that kicked through his veins and begged him to hunt and kill except this was a different kind of rush, that flowed into his head and spilled from his mouth, "It might be difficult – if not impossible – for the aliens to make alterations to fully developed human bodies. They're amping up our senses, our physical capabilities, certain phenotypic changes need to follow suit to allow for such drastic changes in our genetics, and otherwise, our bodies wouldn't be able to handle it. Adults probably can't handle the alterations at all…"
"Uh…Ben…" Matt interrupted.
"Not now, Matt, I'm thinking," Ben muttered, continuing in his ramblings, "If the problem with harnessing adult humans is merely an incapability on their part to accept the genetic alterations, then it only stands to reason that another form of mind control, or one similar to the harnessing process, is possible…"
"Ben," Matt hissed, a little more desperately.
"And from what we've seen so far of the aliens' technology, it would further stand to reason that they would definitely have the capability of controlling the minds of adult humans in a much similar fashion to how they control the minds of children, but because the process should or would be less labor intensive as the genetic altering process, its logical to assume that whatever device is used to control an adult's mind could be less evident than the harness," Ben concluded, snorting softly and shaking his head as he realized, "So it's true that dad might not be the same if…when…we find him, and, furthermore, we might not know right away. What did you want, Matt?"
"Everyone is staring at you," Matt pointed out in a low, harsh whisper.
Ben flustered, glancing quickly around the room to confirm his brother's words. The handful of people in the room had paused in their own activities, playing various board or card games, to stare unabashedly, if not somewhat anxiously, at the suddenly and fervidly perambulating youth. Ben dropped his gaze back to the chessboard, swallowed hard and moved a piece.
"Check," he whispered in a haggard tone, "Mate in two. I have to go."
Without another word, Ben stood and abruptly strode from the room. His heart was pounding erratically in his chest. Stumbling outside of the community center, he drew the crisp noon-time air into his lungs and pushed it out fiercely. His senses were all on fire, adrenaline pumped vicious through his veins. He stalked towards the perimeter of camp, energy spurting through him in short, painful bursts that begged him to do something about them.
On the edge of camp, Ben immediately broke into a steady gait, following his usual route along the perimeter. He barely felt the cool wind whipped by him, didn't think about the way his muscles languidly pumped and pulled and pushed him fluidly along his fast-paced trek. He kept his gaze set forward, expertly and almost sub-consciously evaded every scout, every patrolman, and every sentry along the way. If anyone noticed him pass by in his jog, they deserved a steak dinner.
Initially, he counted his laps around the perimeter, using the flagpole that still hoisted a tattered, slightly scorched 'Old Glory' billowing in the nippy breeze as his marker, but he lost track sometime after twenty.
It wasn't until he spotted a familiar form trekking across the street of the community center and disappearing into a cul-de-sac reminisce of Pleasantville that he stumbled to a halt. He took note of the house that figure disappeared into then trudged back to camp, cleaning himself up and changing clothes.
When Ben returned to the house, a lovely little blue two-story with white trim, he was pleased to learn the new target of his energy overdrive hadn't slipped off in his absence and was actually upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Ben grinned wolfishly, how fortuitous. He crept up the stairs and, to his delight, managed to slide unnoticed into the room, clicking the door shut to announce his arrival.
Jimmy stood and spun round in surprise, he'd been rifling through one of the bookshelves in the bedroom, his wide-eyes taking a moment to register Ben, before his features softened and body relaxed.
"Shit, Ben, what the hell? Don't sneak up on me like that, asshole," he snapped, "What are you doing here?"
"Stalking you; what are you doing here?" Ben returned, staggering forward a few steps and eying the other boy with clear intent. Jimmy shrugged, shoved his hands in his pockets and features flushed, he dropped his eyes to the ground, brown strands falling to obscure his face.
"My…uh…lessons ended unexpectedly early this morning, so I asked Anthony if he needed me for anything and got assigned looting duty," Jimmy explained.
Resource Gathering or, as it was less politely referred to by some of the more tongue-in-cheek members of the 2nd Mass, 'looting duty' was exactly as its name inferred. Buildings in cleared areas, usually those that fell within the camp perimeter or near it, were sorted through for any useful items left behind by former occupants. The job was typically given to civilians, but restless fighters were assigned the task from time to time, and of the 'civilian chores' it was one of the more pleasant, with only the minor risk of running into decomposing cadavers, which was child's play compared to most of the crap fighters saw on duty.
"That sounds really boring," Ben remarked, then noted, "So…I played a game of chess with Matt for a while. I kept trying to let him win but he's not very good at it…"
"Not very good? I lost like seven times to that kid," Jimmy griped.
"Yeah, well…you're really not very good at chess," Ben replied cheekily and Jimmy shook his head, keeping his eyes locked on the ground, shoulders bunched up timidly, and though his stance was odd, Ben didn't really dwell on it because he was getting to the good part of his speech, "Anyhow…now I have free time and you have free time and I spent time with my little brother, like you wanted…" Ben faltered, his eyes narrowing on what he could see of Jimmy's face, "What the hell is that?"
Jimmy flinched, shrugging and taking a small step back when Ben descended on him, lifting his face up by the chin and examining the discoloration around his left eye and his lip, swollen and split in the corner.
"It's nothing," Jimmy muttered grumpily, begrudgingly allowing Ben to turn his face to the side for a better view. Ben brushed Jimmy's hair away, ghosting his fingers over the injury and giving Jimmy an incredulous look until he further clarified, "I got in a fight."
"With who?" Ben demanded hotly.
"Doesn't matter," Jimmy replied, gently pulling away and walking across the room a few steps, pausing to turn back, smirk and shrug nonchalant at Ben, "I won. So don't worry about it."
Ben stared at the other boy a moment, heart racing and senses teeming with the image of Jimmy standing there sullen and vulnerable, begging to be touched and praying not to be all at once, the thought of him overcoming his foe despite this inherent weakness, his understated strength and power, the sound of his heartbeat a flutter erratic, the soft hush of his breath, the warmth permeating from his slender body, the smell of him, salty sweet, making Ben salivate at the thought of his taste.
Ben grinned and noted, "You're amazing."
Jimmy flinched, misunderstanding the comment.
"You're an ass," he retorted sharply.
Ben sighed, shaking his head, grin never faltering as he stalked forward and dragged Jimmy into a fierce kiss. Jimmy grimaced, whimpered at the rough treatment of his wounded lip, and squirmed slightly, but Ben refused to let go, tightening his grasp, arms wrapping more securely around Jimmy's waist, and tongue diving in to find that breaking point past which lie the moans ecstatic and flustered pleas for more, and once it was found Ben relinquished his hold just briefly.
"Oh look, a bed," he humorously acknowledged before pulling Jimmy towards the aforementioned twin-sized box-mattress.
"Ben…I have a job," Jimmy attempted protest, as he gasped for air and pretended to put up a struggle against Ben's guiding hands.
"You have a job that takes ten minutes to do," Ben pointed out, as he gently pushed Jimmy back on the bed, then dropped atop him, drowning him in another kiss.
Jimmy curled his fingers in Ben's shirt, and Ben smirked at that action, glad to have finally won something with barely even the pretense of a fight, dipping his tongue in once more to garner another satisfying moan and then to trace along the bottom of Jimmy's lip. He tasted blood from Jimmy's injury and it incited a new fervor in him, as he wondered briefly who the fuck had the nerve to leave a mark on his lover, and Jimmy had to push him back a bit, grunting with pain.
"Ow," Jimmy complained, gasping desperately for air, his face flushed and brow already forming a line of sweat. He ran his tongue over the cut on his lip and winced slightly.
Meanwhile, Ben altered the focus of his attentions, dropping his mouth to Jimmy's neck and sinking his teeth in momentarily, before dragging his tongue up along the tendon and down again to Jimmy's pale collar, he had to tug the fabric away to get full access. Jimmy wriggled slightly, he was having trouble catching his breath, and he alternated between attempts at pushing Ben back and pulling him in.
"What is with you right now?" Jimmy wondered, breathlessly. Ben shrugged, lifting himself up to press a haste kiss to Jimmy's mouth.
"I don't know," he answered earnestly, "I just have all this energy…" he dropped kisses to Jimmy's cheeks, along his jawline, to the tip of his chin, and then grabbed hold of Jimmy's throat underneath, sucking at the skin insistently until Jimmy gasped and forced Ben back with both hands gripping his shoulders.
"So…your first thought was to share it with me?" Jimmy grumbled, though it took him several attempts to choke the words out in his desperate bid for air.
"Well, no…" Ben murmured earnestly, taking advantage of the break in kissing to slip his hands under Jimmy's shirt and peel the fabric up to Jimmy's chin, placing a series of kisses down his sternum, stopping just below his navel, in between admitting, "My first thought was to run like…five miles. Then I saw you, and figured I'd share."
"Fuck, Ben," Jimmy gulped at the sudden location of Ben's mouth, so much lower down on his body than it had ever been before. He frantically grabbed hold of Ben and dragged him up by the neck so that he could search Ben's eyes concernedly, "You ran five miles?"
"Yeah, about," Ben shrugged, and then cheerfully quipped, "But you'll notice I showered and changed before I came here. Because I care," before grinning and dropping another firm kiss to Jimmy's mouth, but Jimmy wasn't cooperating this time, so he plunged to his favorite part of Jimmy's body, the collarbone, and thoughtfully nibbled the skin there a moment as Jimmy tried to form another sentence. Honestly, why did he want to have a conversation now? They could talk later!
"Well, how many miles was it?" Jimmy demanded.
"How should I know?" Ben murmured against Jimmy's skin, "However many miles twenty-something laps around the perimeter is…"
Then he slid back down for Jimmy's bare chest, pressing kisses along the way over to an exposed nipple – a new favorite – which he delicately teased between his teeth and happily managed to garner the same sudden, startled reaction as his first experiment with that sensitive bit of flesh.
"Oh…jeez…Ben…" Jimmy whimpered, losing his focus a moment, as his hand furrowed in Ben's hair and his other hand rest against Ben's chest, trying to decide what it wanted to do, push or pull, as Ben used his tongue to cool the tenderness his teeth left behind.
Then Jimmy's hand made the maddening decision to push just as Ben's mouth settled in with the intent of leaving a new mark on that pale skin right above the areola.
"Ben, that's not five miles," Jimmy baulked, "That's more like seventy-five miles!"
"Okay, you are clearly better at math than me," Ben replied, unimpressed, shrugging as he attempted to return to his work, but Jimmy pushed him back firmly into place, concern written in grim, sullen features.
"Why does this not worry you?" Jimmy cried.
"Five miles, seventy-five miles, what difference does it make?" Ben returned, "I ran it, I'm fine, I could run it again, but why would I when you're here?"
"Ben," Jimmy groaned, "Don't you think this is something you should talk to Dr. Glass about?"
Ben sighed, growling frustration in the back of his throat and Jimmy shrunk back slightly against the mattress, causing Ben to falter and shake his head, glancing away a moment, letting the sting of that reaction wash over him for only a second before reminding himself Jimmy didn't fear him as the dreaded razorback but maybe feared him as the possibly emotionally injured lover. Not to mention, Jimmy was lying there flushed, panting and hot, and taking a moment to appreciate that image easily returned Ben to his good spirits.
"All she's going to be able to tell me is that it's a Skitter related thing," Ben reasoned, "So why would I run over to her and waste both our times for a diagnosis I can give myself: Ben Mason, you are an alien hybrid. Congratulations. Can I ravage your body now, Jimmy? Please?"
Jimmy blinked and replied harshly, "Could you rephrase that?"
"No," Ben decided, shaking his head slightly, and grinning broadly, "I stand by what I said."
"You are such a dork," Jimmy muttered, then sighed and relented, "Fine. Go ahead."
"Finally," Ben murmured, mock exasperated. He captured Jimmy's mouth in a rapturous kiss, and then breathily instructed, "Lose the shirt."
"I like it on," Jimmy returned stubbornly.
"I'll work on that," Ben conceded, maneuvering down to Jimmy's exposed belly and massaging the skin there with his mouth and tongue. Jimmy squirmed and made a strangled noise in his throat, weaving his fingers through the spikes on Ben's neck.
Ben pulled himself onto his knees, straddling Jimmy and drawing him up into a partially seated position, kissing him hard and eager on the mouth. He trailed his kisses across that bruised cheek, gentle and mindful, and then he caught hold of Jimmy's ear a moment, nibbling the bottom lobe and causing a sharp intake of breath from Jimmy. Then he dotted his kisses along Jimmy's brow, and down his nose, catching his mouth again, wrapping an arm around Jimmy's shoulder and sliding his other under Jimmy's shirt around his waist, allowing Jimmy's tongue entry into his mouth so that it could sample every inch therein and set his senses on fire.
Completely enraptured in the action of exploring Ben's mouth, Jimmy failed to notice where Ben's hands had traveled and their scrupulous intentions there until it was too late and Ben swiftly removed his shirt.
"No, Ben wait," Jimmy cried, as his garment was ripped away, pulling back and placing a hand almost protectively over his arm.
Ben furrowed his brow.
"What?" he wondered, examining the other boy for a clue behind the sudden outburst. Jimmy inspected his arm a moment, but there was nothing odd about the limb that Ben could see.
"Nothing," Jimmy mumbled, his features contorted with his own confusion. He shook his head and more firmly replied, "Nothing. Forget it."
Then he hastily and in an adorably clumsy way dragged Ben back into their kiss and, simple as that, it was forgotten. Ben's shirt came off next, Jimmy's trembling hands gently peeling the fabric away, careful of the metal spikes, and then he dropped the shirt to the floor, and settled back down on the bed, pulling Ben with him, mouths locked once more.
Removing their boots was a struggle, neither really wanted to pause in kissing the other, or take their hands off the other's body, as though a moment physically detached were pure torment. But they managed, not that Ben could explain how.
Ben undid Jimmy's trousers while curled over him, mouth hot on his belly and working against the shuddering skin. Jimmy didn't allow him to linger there long though, once the buttons were undone, pushing him upright and sitting up a bit to undo Ben's own buttons and zipper, and then dragged him down by the shoulders so that they lay even with their lips pressed firmly together. Removing the rest of their garments seemed excessive, but Jimmy insisted and Ben wasn't about to argue when the other boy was demanding full nudity.
There was a blanket on the bed, something white and floral, and they slipped beneath the covers. It was new for them, to be on a bed in a bedroom underneath a blanket, and Ben paused to reflect on it, tracing a thumb along Jimmy's cheek and down his jaw, his body hot to the touch, breath soft and quick, eyes pleading for Ben to continue even if the stubborn boy would never say as much aloud.
Ben pressed a kiss to Jimmy's mouth and slipped his hand down to encircle the other boy's erection as Jimmy tentatively grasped Ben's own, and with a gentle ease, they slowly began to draw out one another's arousal, moving in time to each other, as their mouths worked in a furious kiss. Ben brushed his free hand across Jimmy's forehead, tangling in his hair. Jimmy ran his own free hand intently lengthwise up Ben's spine, weaving through the spikes and causing pleasant little shivers to race across his skin.
Jimmy climaxed first, hiding his face in Ben's shoulder as he trembled with the orgasm, and Ben soon followed, groaning blissfully against Jimmy's sweat slick skin.
They collapsed, breaking from one another a moment to slow their breath and cool their heads, then Ben wrapped his arms around Jimmy and set his chin atop Jimmy's chest, gazing up happily. Jimmy glanced down at him, smiled distantly, and closed his eyes.
They lay that way a few heartbeats, each appreciating the feel of the other boy as the tingling left behind by their orgasms slowly faded away, then Ben sighed, crawling up to press a kiss to Jimmy's mouth, which Jimmy vaguely returned. Jimmy would be out cold in a few seconds, exhausted from their act, whereas Ben was still abuzz with energy. It almost didn't seem fair, their imbalance of vigor.
Ben wrapped Jimmy in a tight embrace and buried his mouth against the crook of Jimmy's neck. Jimmy's breathing had already become light, steady, rhythmic, his body limp and leisure; he was already asleep it seemed.
Ben smiled somberly, lifting himself to push the hair from Jimmy's face and study the other boy's rested features; even in sleep he always looked so troubled.
For a moment, Ben wondered if there would come a time when Jimmy would acknowledge the obvious burden Ben's overabundance of energy was becoming.
Ben's brow collapsed together, his heart pattered wretched in his chest. He wondered if there would come a time when Jimmy, like Matt, would want him to be normal. And when, much like Matt, he couldn't give Jimmy that, normal, what would happen then?
Ben lay his cheek down against Jimmy's chest, reveling in the feel of its rise and fall with every soft breath.
For a moment, he wondered what kind of future could they really hope to have, when one of them wasn't entirely human anymore, and getting less so every day, and the other was only just.
.
.
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A/N: Split character chapter, from Jimmy to Ben perspective, fun fun! Um...this chapter has a lot of foreshadowing in it about things that are going on in the story. Also, yes, Jimmy throws punches with Roman first, I know, everyone is very disappointed...or maybe not, I don't know?
Got to hurry, need to shower.
Okie, let me know what you guys think please!
Reviewers: JDMlvr1, hehe...Matt didn't interrupt this time. SassySavanna190, tough to figure out, huh? Is it good to lie in a relationship or bad...? Is it sometimes good, or always bad? About Tom...as I've said before, this is a very LONG story. I'm on chapter 29 now and I'm still in the "beginning" of the story. Meaning, yes, eventually Tom will make an appearance. FacePalmer123, yeah, I was very sad not to see a review from you. I'm glad you thought it was cute! Cookie97, yeah, Jimmy was a little sneaky, getting Ben to hang out with Matt. Bubblepuff, well, thank you, I'm glad you like my stories. Um...as for your question, the answer is both yes and no. When I write descriptions, which is very sparingly, I try to keep it true to what the actors look like in the show, but I do take a bit of a literary license and...as I've said before numerous times, I didn't really go into hardcore research mode for this story, checking and double-checking their hair color and eye color and the angles of their jaws, studying their pictures online so I could get every last detail true to the actor. Mainly because, I'm not so interested in the actors as much as I am the characters (I know, I know, gasp! What kind of fangirl am I? Well, I'm not a fangirl, is why...I'm a writer). So for me, the only description I really care about is Jimmy's blue eyes, because I was infatuated with them, and that's about it. I hope that answer is satisfactory, maybe? I don't know.
I got to go. Shower. Homework? Class. Work...somewhere in there should be breakfast.
See you all Sunday! Bye bye!