Trust Issues: Conflict Resolution, nc-17
Trust Issues: Conflict Resolution, nc-17
1900 words
Ben/Leslie, Parks and Recreation
WIP, angst
Thanks: To Caitlin, for always. And Caity, for making fun of my wicked drunken typos. And Dennis, for the other things.
"These are the things that people break up over, you know. I don't want that to be us."
Chapter 2
Notes: So I wrapped this up super cleanly in like, 5000 words. Whatever.
-----
“Okay, so we’re agreed, it’s ‘aubergine’?” Ben asks, for what is probably the sixtieth time at least. His eyes ghost with both worry and passion and it’s the strangest amalgamation of emotion he’s ever felt.
He wants to touch her, badly, very badly but he really, really, really needs to know that she’s okay with this.
Aside from the conversation they’d had a week ago, Ben had managed to extend what was to be an open and shut conversation on the matter into a four-hour long diatribe on trust and kink and bondage and passion and love and by the end of it Leslie was so ready for him to just shut up that she’d thrown herself at him and kissed him a shade beyond breathless.
“You’re the one in control here,” he says hesitantly as he kisses down her neck. “You have total control. Can you move your arms alright, I’m not hurting you, am I, I-”
“Jesus, Ben, I... everything’s good. We’re good, I’ve got the word and I’m... in control.” Leslie sighs and tugs against the weak bonds. She would have been alright with him going a bit tighter even but she says nothing. Baby steps, Les, baby steps. She just didn’t think she would have to be the one to talk Ben back into this.
Perhaps her apprehension had been too much for him; of course he’s been harping on it, of course he has. He’s that type of guy; he’s probably thinking about it now, too much, probably imagining all of the possible worst-case scenarios. Leslie almost regrets telling him the truth, but no. No. The truth is important in relationships and she’s fairly sure he would have been more worked up if she hadn’t told him and had let things just play out.
Besides, her telling him had led to them working things out, steadying their ground.
And that’s a good thing. That’s a great thing. That’s what people in relationships that last forever do.
Leslie breathes out steadily and blinks as Ben’s lips find a nipple and tug. “Good start, Wyatt,” she chuckles breathlessly and accidentally pulls against her bonds; the movement stills him. She’d only wished to card her fingers through his hair and had forgotten, had forgotten. It sparks something in him and everything, everything stops.
“Les?”
“Just wanted to touch you, your hair, fuck...” Leslie swallows. “I can’t touch you, wasn’t a problem until I realized...” her chest heaves and she glances down at him, her eyes darkening. This, this is why it’s going to be hard; she loves the texture of his hair and the temperature of him and the little give that his ass gives when she squeezes it so hard.
Ben flashes a quick, easy grin, his apprehension all but dissolving before her eyes; he likes to be touched by her, he wants it, and he loves that she loves it. “Why, you wanna touch me?”
Leslie thrashes her arms a bit in defiance. “Fuck you, I always want to touch you, dummy.” Leslie swallows and bucks up into him. “Duh,” she adds for good measure and for a moment let’s her mind wander, lets herself imagine what her hands should be doing, all of the pleasure and the pleasure-pain she could inflict on him with palms and fingers and nails. Oh, even in her head, the thought is delicious and she feels a shiver rocket down her spine. “Fuck you, Ben,” and like that, it seems, just like that, the tables are turned.
Leslie isn’t thinking about her lack of ability to move her arms or how easy it would be for him to take advantage of her because there is no advantage to be taken; they’re on equal ground, both steeped in trust.
Leslie can feel the wetness against her legs, feel the slickness when she squirms and -and - really? She might not want to admit it or think about it - it’s incredibly hard to think right now, but - she’s fairly certain she’d never felt this aroused, this wet, like she could puddle right into the bed. “What are you waiting for?” she growls. “This was your idea, boyfriend, so move.”
Ben blinks before his eyes cloud just a shade darker and dear god, oh, he growls. His hair is sex-touseled and they haven’t even had sex yet and the sight is delectable; Leslie bucks again as he leans in to lave over another nipple, rolling his teeth delicately before snapping his teeth in a gentle bite. “That better? Is that how you want me to move?”
Leslie says nothing, just slides her heel up the side of his calf to settle against his ass; it’s a bit difficult with their height difference but she manages, just as Ben begins kissing a hot trail down the center of her torso. Ben avoids her belly button because they’ve talked about this and that’s just gross and instead he nips at the dip between her torso and thigh. “You want this?” he breathes hotly over her, breath damp.
She won’t give him the benefit of the doubt but she can’t help but pull against her restraints. It feels... it feels odd, frustrating. The fabric pulls against her skin a little, it burns just a bit but in a good way; she’s never felt anything burn in a good way and she thinks she likes it.
“I asked you,” he growls as his teeth glances over the smoothness of her thigh. “If you want this?”
“Yes!” she huffs, her cheeks flushing, “Yes, god, god, yes, just-”
But he decides at that moment to flick his tongue against her clitoris and she goes rigid, tight, wound. “Jesus, Ben!”
“You do want that,” he chuckles and works his mouth over her folds slowly, teasingly. Her heels find purchase against his lower back and Ben finds himself content simply tucking in and tasting her, driving Leslie to the brink before pulling away as she tumbles back down.
Leslie gasps, pants, wishes she could just grab him by the shoulders and make him- no, no, she reminds herself. This is something he wants, this is something he needs but she’s not just going to buckle and give in. What fun would that be? she poses to herself and her lips tilt into a smirk before she groans, “Fuck you, Ben. Fuck you.”
“That, that’s also something you’d like,” he pants as he moves his fingers slowly, slowly, too slowly inside of her. “As well, yeah? You want that too?”
“Fuck you,” she manages again but it lilts towards more of a needy whine than an admonishment.
Ben pulls fully back, glances down at her and he looks positively... there’s no word for it, Leslie decides, shifting her hips back against the sheets so she can see him properly. Delectable, he looks like, like she could literally eat him, every last bit. Fuckable too, dangerous but innocent and utterly perfect; her heart bursts, it thrums and needs and wants and jettisons into love so desperately hard that she loses her breath. “I can manage that,” Ben says and takes a moment to roll on a condom.
It’s probably what’s to be considered the least sexy part of having sex but Leslie kind of loves the way his wrist moves and how he’s always sure to put the empty packet somewhere he’ll remember to throw it out (she’s walked into work one time with it stuck on her shoe, so...) and for whatever reason that’s really attractive to her.
When he ambles back onto the bed and settles himself between her thighs there’s a shadow of doubt that crosses his gaze; Leslie bucks up into him again, straining against her bonds and bites a lip, draws his gaze to hers. She says, “Chickening out, Wyatt? Huh? Are you-ohhhhh...”
He’s not usually like this, not so... on the brink. He slides into her with one quick flick of his hips and jesus christ, she can’t help but tightening around him, feeling him hot, ready, inside of her. She thought she’d be used to this, she really did but every time. Every single time... it thrills her and she can’t believe it.
It’s a moment, a few, before she realizes that he hasn’t moved and she peels her eyes open to stare up at him in confusing. “Ben, wha-what-”
“You want this, Leslie?” his voice is low and serious and he doesn’t move a damned muscle. Not a single one.
And it settles in, right then. That ‘this’ means all of this, his quirks, his body, his mind, his tendency to be really into some light bondage (and maybe more.) and it scares her terrifically for a moment. That he’s asking about forever and she can’t get away from him, can’t hide. It terrifies her until she realizes that it shouldn’t and it doesn’t because Ben is forever, really and truly is and Leslie just tosses her head back and hums and hisses, “Yessss, Ben, evvvvverything. All of it.”
When he moves it’s wonderful and fast and hard and Leslie feels so dirty and alive and wonderful and crazy because she can’t touch him at all and she feels the need to touch him like in a need to breathe sort of way.
His thumb settles over her clit and presses as he moves into her hard (oh, hard, hard) and she wants to touch, touch, touch him, it’s a crime that she can’t touch him and instead in her mind, she imagines her nails tearing down his back, causing raised lines and harsh words and everything she needs-wants-needs. “Ben, Ben,” Leslie gasps and stutters up against him again, his thumb slipping against her and-
She’s there, right there.
It all tears through her, darkness and light and so much noise and she can’t breathe and can’t think but she feels Ben move, hears him cry out; underwater, they’re underwater and his chest is against hers and his lips find her brow, peppering lazy kisses.
And oh god, did she come? Has she lost all ability to comprehend from orgasming so hard?
She doesn’t know, can’t bother to work it out as his hands sloppily tug at her bonds. Long minutes it takes to get her undone and when she has the power over her arms again, she woman handles Ben onto his side and rolls onto her own and blinks up at him, head against the pillows.
“You idiot,” Leslie says, sleepily, massaging her wrists gently; an action which Ben takes over for her.
Ben smiles, draws a thumb over hers, “Idiot?”
“I didn’t say aubergine... terrible word, too, by the way and still you feed me, ‘do you want this’? You idiot-jerk.”
Ben blinks, stops moving, his grip on her wrists loosening. “Les, I-”
“I’m kidding,” she says quietly, intimately. “I just wanted to... yes, yes, I... want it all. All of it.”
Ben takes a moment, a good, deep breath before he says, “Good,” and cracks a grin.
“‘Good’, good.” she says back, smiling sleepily.
Ben snuggles up behind her and drifts off just as she says, "Next time, maybe a little tighter, mmmkay?"
1900 words
Ben/Leslie, Parks and Recreation
WIP, angst
Thanks: To Caitlin, for always. And Caity, for making fun of my wicked drunken typos. And Dennis, for the other things.
"These are the things that people break up over, you know. I don't want that to be us."
Chapter 2
Notes: So I wrapped this up super cleanly in like, 5000 words. Whatever.
-----
“Okay, so we’re agreed, it’s ‘aubergine’?” Ben asks, for what is probably the sixtieth time at least. His eyes ghost with both worry and passion and it’s the strangest amalgamation of emotion he’s ever felt.
He wants to touch her, badly, very badly but he really, really, really needs to know that she’s okay with this.
Aside from the conversation they’d had a week ago, Ben had managed to extend what was to be an open and shut conversation on the matter into a four-hour long diatribe on trust and kink and bondage and passion and love and by the end of it Leslie was so ready for him to just shut up that she’d thrown herself at him and kissed him a shade beyond breathless.
“You’re the one in control here,” he says hesitantly as he kisses down her neck. “You have total control. Can you move your arms alright, I’m not hurting you, am I, I-”
“Jesus, Ben, I... everything’s good. We’re good, I’ve got the word and I’m... in control.” Leslie sighs and tugs against the weak bonds. She would have been alright with him going a bit tighter even but she says nothing. Baby steps, Les, baby steps. She just didn’t think she would have to be the one to talk Ben back into this.
Perhaps her apprehension had been too much for him; of course he’s been harping on it, of course he has. He’s that type of guy; he’s probably thinking about it now, too much, probably imagining all of the possible worst-case scenarios. Leslie almost regrets telling him the truth, but no. No. The truth is important in relationships and she’s fairly sure he would have been more worked up if she hadn’t told him and had let things just play out.
Besides, her telling him had led to them working things out, steadying their ground.
And that’s a good thing. That’s a great thing. That’s what people in relationships that last forever do.
Leslie breathes out steadily and blinks as Ben’s lips find a nipple and tug. “Good start, Wyatt,” she chuckles breathlessly and accidentally pulls against her bonds; the movement stills him. She’d only wished to card her fingers through his hair and had forgotten, had forgotten. It sparks something in him and everything, everything stops.
“Les?”
“Just wanted to touch you, your hair, fuck...” Leslie swallows. “I can’t touch you, wasn’t a problem until I realized...” her chest heaves and she glances down at him, her eyes darkening. This, this is why it’s going to be hard; she loves the texture of his hair and the temperature of him and the little give that his ass gives when she squeezes it so hard.
Ben flashes a quick, easy grin, his apprehension all but dissolving before her eyes; he likes to be touched by her, he wants it, and he loves that she loves it. “Why, you wanna touch me?”
Leslie thrashes her arms a bit in defiance. “Fuck you, I always want to touch you, dummy.” Leslie swallows and bucks up into him. “Duh,” she adds for good measure and for a moment let’s her mind wander, lets herself imagine what her hands should be doing, all of the pleasure and the pleasure-pain she could inflict on him with palms and fingers and nails. Oh, even in her head, the thought is delicious and she feels a shiver rocket down her spine. “Fuck you, Ben,” and like that, it seems, just like that, the tables are turned.
Leslie isn’t thinking about her lack of ability to move her arms or how easy it would be for him to take advantage of her because there is no advantage to be taken; they’re on equal ground, both steeped in trust.
Leslie can feel the wetness against her legs, feel the slickness when she squirms and -and - really? She might not want to admit it or think about it - it’s incredibly hard to think right now, but - she’s fairly certain she’d never felt this aroused, this wet, like she could puddle right into the bed. “What are you waiting for?” she growls. “This was your idea, boyfriend, so move.”
Ben blinks before his eyes cloud just a shade darker and dear god, oh, he growls. His hair is sex-touseled and they haven’t even had sex yet and the sight is delectable; Leslie bucks again as he leans in to lave over another nipple, rolling his teeth delicately before snapping his teeth in a gentle bite. “That better? Is that how you want me to move?”
Leslie says nothing, just slides her heel up the side of his calf to settle against his ass; it’s a bit difficult with their height difference but she manages, just as Ben begins kissing a hot trail down the center of her torso. Ben avoids her belly button because they’ve talked about this and that’s just gross and instead he nips at the dip between her torso and thigh. “You want this?” he breathes hotly over her, breath damp.
She won’t give him the benefit of the doubt but she can’t help but pull against her restraints. It feels... it feels odd, frustrating. The fabric pulls against her skin a little, it burns just a bit but in a good way; she’s never felt anything burn in a good way and she thinks she likes it.
“I asked you,” he growls as his teeth glances over the smoothness of her thigh. “If you want this?”
“Yes!” she huffs, her cheeks flushing, “Yes, god, god, yes, just-”
But he decides at that moment to flick his tongue against her clitoris and she goes rigid, tight, wound. “Jesus, Ben!”
“You do want that,” he chuckles and works his mouth over her folds slowly, teasingly. Her heels find purchase against his lower back and Ben finds himself content simply tucking in and tasting her, driving Leslie to the brink before pulling away as she tumbles back down.
Leslie gasps, pants, wishes she could just grab him by the shoulders and make him- no, no, she reminds herself. This is something he wants, this is something he needs but she’s not just going to buckle and give in. What fun would that be? she poses to herself and her lips tilt into a smirk before she groans, “Fuck you, Ben. Fuck you.”
“That, that’s also something you’d like,” he pants as he moves his fingers slowly, slowly, too slowly inside of her. “As well, yeah? You want that too?”
“Fuck you,” she manages again but it lilts towards more of a needy whine than an admonishment.
Ben pulls fully back, glances down at her and he looks positively... there’s no word for it, Leslie decides, shifting her hips back against the sheets so she can see him properly. Delectable, he looks like, like she could literally eat him, every last bit. Fuckable too, dangerous but innocent and utterly perfect; her heart bursts, it thrums and needs and wants and jettisons into love so desperately hard that she loses her breath. “I can manage that,” Ben says and takes a moment to roll on a condom.
It’s probably what’s to be considered the least sexy part of having sex but Leslie kind of loves the way his wrist moves and how he’s always sure to put the empty packet somewhere he’ll remember to throw it out (she’s walked into work one time with it stuck on her shoe, so...) and for whatever reason that’s really attractive to her.
When he ambles back onto the bed and settles himself between her thighs there’s a shadow of doubt that crosses his gaze; Leslie bucks up into him again, straining against her bonds and bites a lip, draws his gaze to hers. She says, “Chickening out, Wyatt? Huh? Are you-ohhhhh...”
He’s not usually like this, not so... on the brink. He slides into her with one quick flick of his hips and jesus christ, she can’t help but tightening around him, feeling him hot, ready, inside of her. She thought she’d be used to this, she really did but every time. Every single time... it thrills her and she can’t believe it.
It’s a moment, a few, before she realizes that he hasn’t moved and she peels her eyes open to stare up at him in confusing. “Ben, wha-what-”
“You want this, Leslie?” his voice is low and serious and he doesn’t move a damned muscle. Not a single one.
And it settles in, right then. That ‘this’ means all of this, his quirks, his body, his mind, his tendency to be really into some light bondage (and maybe more.) and it scares her terrifically for a moment. That he’s asking about forever and she can’t get away from him, can’t hide. It terrifies her until she realizes that it shouldn’t and it doesn’t because Ben is forever, really and truly is and Leslie just tosses her head back and hums and hisses, “Yessss, Ben, evvvvverything. All of it.”
When he moves it’s wonderful and fast and hard and Leslie feels so dirty and alive and wonderful and crazy because she can’t touch him at all and she feels the need to touch him like in a need to breathe sort of way.
His thumb settles over her clit and presses as he moves into her hard (oh, hard, hard) and she wants to touch, touch, touch him, it’s a crime that she can’t touch him and instead in her mind, she imagines her nails tearing down his back, causing raised lines and harsh words and everything she needs-wants-needs. “Ben, Ben,” Leslie gasps and stutters up against him again, his thumb slipping against her and-
She’s there, right there.
It all tears through her, darkness and light and so much noise and she can’t breathe and can’t think but she feels Ben move, hears him cry out; underwater, they’re underwater and his chest is against hers and his lips find her brow, peppering lazy kisses.
And oh god, did she come? Has she lost all ability to comprehend from orgasming so hard?
She doesn’t know, can’t bother to work it out as his hands sloppily tug at her bonds. Long minutes it takes to get her undone and when she has the power over her arms again, she woman handles Ben onto his side and rolls onto her own and blinks up at him, head against the pillows.
“You idiot,” Leslie says, sleepily, massaging her wrists gently; an action which Ben takes over for her.
Ben smiles, draws a thumb over hers, “Idiot?”
“I didn’t say aubergine... terrible word, too, by the way and still you feed me, ‘do you want this’? You idiot-jerk.”
Ben blinks, stops moving, his grip on her wrists loosening. “Les, I-”
“I’m kidding,” she says quietly, intimately. “I just wanted to... yes, yes, I... want it all. All of it.”
Ben takes a moment, a good, deep breath before he says, “Good,” and cracks a grin.
“‘Good’, good.” she says back, smiling sleepily.
Ben snuggles up behind her and drifts off just as she says, "Next time, maybe a little tighter, mmmkay?"