FIC: "Championship Bet" - 1/1, NC17, BR/MH, NFL RPS

[fadedink]

Title: Championship Bet
Fandom: NFL RPS
Series: The Bet
Authors: Brenda (azewewish) & Jo (idiosyncratic)
Pairing: Ben Roethlisberger/Matt Hasselbeck (special appearance by Tom Brady)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The Steelers are in the Super Bowl. But that's the only true thing going on.
Summary: After the AFC Championship game against the Ravens, Ben and Matt find a way to celebrate.
Notes: C'mon, you didn't think we'd let such an historic game go without a fic, did you? *g*


Ben's arms still ache from exertion and his ribs still hurt like a motherfucker and man, all he wants is a bed so he can faceplant for, like, a week, but the mental and physical exhaustion at going four brutal quarters against a defense that he could swear had been part Mack-truck are a distant thought to the sheer elation of having done it.

The Pittsburgh Steelers are going back to the Super Bowl.

He can't stop repeating it to himself. Even holding up the AFC Championship trophy hadn't helped in making it seem real. Maybe it'll sink in once he gets to Tampa, he doesn't know.

The crowd in the stands is still going strong, all the players are still mingling around the field, celebrating with their families and friends and each other, when Ben finally manages to slip away and head to the locker room. Before he's taken one step towards the showers, he's waylaid by one of the attendants.

"Phone for you, Ben."

So it begins, Ben thinks, and smiles his thanks before reversing course and picking up the phone in the office. Probably his mom or dad or sister. "This is Ben."

"You boys better take it easy on mine in Tampa," an amused voice says on the other end of the line.

Ben sinks into a chair, already smiling. "Now, Tom, you know I can't promise any such thing. I wouldn't worry, though, Matt's helmet should protect that pretty face of his. Provided Kurt even lets him take a snap."

"He'll play," Tom says, still amused, but sounding full of confidence. Ben can practically see the smirk on his face. "You got lucky, you know."

"Oh?" Ben's eyebrows make a fast climb for his hairline. There's no way Tom just went there, not with the game that Ben'd had. "How do you figure?"

"I didn't play this season. If I had, you'd've been sitting home this week, letting your boy console you." There's a pause of half a heartbeat, and then Tom snickers.

"Bastard, like your other Matt didn't have one helluva season," Ben laughs, finally relaxing as he reaches under his shirt to start unlacing equipment. He still wants that bed, but the urge is easing up a little. Funny how talking to Tom will do that. Probably because the only thing he ever takes seriously is the game.

"Seriously, though," Tom says, amusement gone now, "congratulations, man. And tell all your boys I said that. You guys've had a hell of a season and post-season so far."

"Thanks. But we both know it don’t mean anything without the ring." Sure, he's got the one already, but he doesn't feel like he's truly earned it yet, given the game he'd had that year. On the other hand, XL had brought him Matt, so he figures it'd had been a pretty good trade.

"Well, you've got your work cut out for you," Tom says.

"Not a lot about us that Wiz doesn't know," Ben agrees, and bends to start unlacing his cleats. When he straightens back up, Matt's slouched in the doorway, giving him a small smile that Ben immediately returns. Instantly, all thoughts of exhaustion and the pain he's in are forgotten.

"Ben, you even listening?"

"Huh?" He jerks his attention back to the phone in time to hear Tom's laugh.

"Nevermind, man, I already know who's there."

"I, uh, sorry?"

"Bullshit," Tom says, still chuckling. "Look, go celebrate with your boy. You definitely earned it tonight. And tell him I said hi."

"Will do," Ben says, eyes still on Matt and that smile. He looks away long enough to drop the phone back in its cradle. Then he looks at Matt again, gaze roaming over snug jeans encasing long legs and a sweatshirt wrapped around broad shoulders.

"Tommy congratulate you?"

"Yeah, and he said to tell you hi."

Matt grins, quick and easy, and strolls into the room. "Good thing," he says, stopping only when he's straddling the chair and looking down at Ben. "Told the fucker you were gonna win tonight."

"Gotta lot of faith in me," Ben murmurs, hands framing lean hips.

"Well placed."

"Ravens, man," is all Ben says, and they both know exactly what he means.

Matt just shrugs. "Your boys've had their number all year." He stops and tilts his head, watching Ben with smiling eyes. One finger slides beneath the collar of Ben's shirt, works its way beneath layers of padding. "You planning on wearing that all night? Or we gonna go celebrate the only ring you're getting this year?"

Ben raises an eyebrow. "Only ring?" he repeats, as he slides his hands under Matt's sweatshirt, mapping warm skin.

"Cards are on one helluva roll right now," Matt says, laughter in his voice.

"Care to bet on that?" Ben smiles back, and slides his lips across Matt's for a soft kiss.

"Maybe," Matt murmurs, then forestalls further conversation by deepening the kiss.

When the kiss ends, Ben blinks for a few moments, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. "Maybe?" he asks, once he finally manages to track down the thread of the conversation. "Scared you'll lose?"

Rolling his eyes, Matt visibly fights his mirth. When he seems to have himself under control, he steps back so Ben can get out of the chair. "Nope. Just think your o-line might not be so hot shot with Hines injured."

Ben snorts. "Hines'll have to be dead to miss that game," he says, catching Matt's wrist and pulling him towards the door. "Besides, I still got weapons. And tricks. And Troy."

"And there's the cocky boy wonder I remember so well," Matt laughs, nodding as Ben drags him past half the Steelers coaching staff.

"Well, now, if I remember correctly, cocky got me in your bed, so I'm thinking that's not such a bad thing," Ben says, tossing off his sweat-soaked jersey and pads in one motion. He half thinks about asking Matt to join him in the shower, but he figures Troy'll kill him if he does. And if he doesn't, Hines will, injured knee or no.

"Didn't say it was bad, just said it was cocky." Matt leans against the doorway to the showers and doesn't even bother to hide the fact that he's ogling Ben's ass. Ben can only be thankful that Willie's not anywhere around to give him shit for it.

"Name me one QB worth his arm that's not," he counters, and reaches for the soap. Fuck, but the hot water feels amazing right about now. He might just stay here for awhile, until he's all pruny.

"Ah, but there's cocky," Matt says, with a grin, "and then there's you."

"Well, when you got it," Ben says, and ducks his head under the water.

"Is he still on that shit?" Troy says, poking his head in just enough to see Matt, and then leaning in a little further when he doesn't see Ben. "You need to get a new spiel, man. That one's old."

"Yeah, yeah," Ben calls back, glancing back to wink at Matt. "How's T.J., man? He make it tonight?"

"You...shut up," Troy says, then vanishes just as fast as he appeared.

Matt looks at Ben and raises an eyebrow. Ben just grins and turns to rinse off the soap. "Not here," he says. "I'll tell you later."

"Don't think I'm not holding you to that."

"Oh, trust me, it'll be worth the wait." Ben turns off the water and snags a towel, then starts to rub at his hair. Already, he feels ten times more human. "What the doc say about your back, anyway?"

"It's getting better, I need to take my time about rehabbing, and, I quote, the really wild monkey sex is still off the table."

Ben pauses in the act of getting water out of his ears. "Christ, Matt, what the hell did you tell him we do in bed?"

Matt laughs. "Nothing, man, he just volunteered. It's almost like he knows you."

"Uh huh," Ben says, skeptical. But then Matt moves in and takes the towel, sliding it down Ben's back.

"Well, he did ask about my sexual activities," Matt says, swatting Ben's ass when Ben turns to look at him. "I just said that my partner could be really enthusiastic at times."

"You're such a bad liar," Ben laughs, and steps away, knowing the situation will get out of control fast if he's not careful. And they are in a very public locker room. The rest of the team is pretty tolerant, but Matt molesting him in full view would definitely be pushing it too far.

Matt just pushes himself on one of the benches and unashamedly watches Ben get dressed. "He really did make the monkey sex comment, though."

"I don't even know what that means." Ben's voice is muffled as he pulls his t-shirt - one of the new AFC Championship ones, hell to the yeah on that - over his head. "It's not like we own a jungle gym or, I dunno, one of those swing things."

"Swing things?"

"Yeah, it's, uh, like it attaches to the ceiling, and you sit in it, and, uh..." Ben shrugs. "Actually, I have no idea how you have sex in the damn thing, but I did see one once in a sex shop. So I know they exist."

Matt blinks. "You went to a sex shop without me?"

Ben finishes buttoning his jeans and starts looking for his socks. "Yeah, man, Heath wanted to go."

"I think I'm jealous."

Ben freezes in the process of reaching for his socks. Looking over his shoulder, he finds Matt watching him with an odd expression. "You serious?"

"Yeah...no," Matt says, clearly floundering as he frowns. "I don't know. Maybe? Should I be?"

His socks are forgotten as Ben straightens and turns to face Matt. He's more than a little bewildered by this turn of events, because jealousy just isn't something they do. "Of Heath?" he finally manages, stepping into the V of Matt's thighs, one hand cupping Matt's chin. "Hell, no. It's not like I was out with Hines or Troy."

Matt blinks again. "They get you in trouble?"

Ben laughs and brushes a light kiss over Matt's lips. "No, but it's not for lack of trying."

That seems to have been the right thing to say, because Matt visibly relaxes, and runs his hands along the backs of Ben's thighs before pushing him back towards his locker. "C'mon, can't be too late for your own party."

"You still cool with hangin' for a little while?" Ben asks, while throwing a sweatshirt on over the shirt - also proclaiming their AFC Championship status - and lacing his boots. "I don't wanna make it a late night, but I figured we could have a drink or two with the guys."

"Why would I mind?" Matt murmurs his thanks when Ben hands him his coat and hat and gloves.

"Because Hines'll be there?"

Matt scoffs, and bats Ben's hands out of the way to finish winding his scarf around his neck. "Hines doesn't scare me. If he starts in too hard, I'll just threaten to tell him what you look like all full of my cock."

Ben's sure his eyes are glazed over, but damn, man, it's a helluva visual. "Um..."

Matt shakes his head and laughs. "One-track mind," he laments, and pulls his hat over his head.

"Shut up, like you don't."

"Never said I didn't," Matt retorts with a wicked grin, then starts for the door. "But that's for later."

"Later?" Ben perks up, tries to control his body's automatic response to the promise.

"Figure you deserve a congratulatory blowjob. Only ring this year and all."

"Fucker."

"You love me."

* * *

The party's in full swing by the time they arrive, and the joint is loud with mingling voices, laughter, and music. Exactly as Ben expected, and he can't say he doesn't feel like they've earned it. He looks around when Matt nudges him and nods, and has to laugh as he sees Troy duck behind Heath. "Later," Ben says, and tugs Matt towards the bar.

It feels like there are eight million people between him and the alcohol, and most of the faces are unknown to him. Friends and family of teammates or staff, but there are plenty that he does know, and he accepts each handshake, back slap, and congratulations with a wide grin and a few words.

He still doesn't have a drink, though, and neither does Matt, who's been pretty good about staying close the entire way. Interesting that no one even blinks at the two of them together. He supposes they haven't exactly been keeping it a secret. But there's the bar, thank Christ, and Ben pushes his way up to it and waits to order. Muffled laughter from Matt draws his attention, and he looks back. "What?"

"I think Troy's avoiding us," Matt says, looking steadily at the ceiling and fighting laughter. "And, um, your boy Hines...I thought the cheerleaders were off limits."

Ben turns to look and, sure enough, Hines is in one of the booths, with a girl on either side - both of 'em on the squad - and he's trading kisses with both of them. "That's Hines for ya," he shrugs, and finally gets the bartender's attention for two Buds and two shots. "At least it's not Troy's sister this time."

"Troy's sister??"

"Hines," Ben repeats, because it pretty much explains everything, and shoves the beer bottle and a shot glass into Matt's hands. "Here's to getting back to the Promised Land."

Matt clinks his shot glass to Ben's. "Long as you don't make any bets with anyone else," he says, and tosses his shot back like a pro.

Ben, on the other hand, just about chokes on the tequila. He sputters, coughs, and stares at Matt in incredulous surprise. "Uh, what?"

"You heard me," Matt says, then winks as he takes a long pull off his bottle.

"You," Ben says, when he finally stops coughing, "are a bastard. I ever tell you that?"

"All the time."

"Speaking of bets..."

"We don't one on the table right now," Matt points out, giving Ben a wary look that turns suspicious when Ben just gives him a beatific smile.

"I remember somebody said something about me only getting one ring this season."

"No clue who that was," Matt murmurs, waving it off and turning to lean back against the bar. He looks everywhere but at Ben.

Ben just smiles, leans in until his lips are not quite brushing Matt's ear. He takes a breath, then another, smile widening when the muscle along Matt's jaw jumps. "Pussy."

There's a split second when Ben thinks maybe, just maybe, he's pushed it too far. Then Matt's lips twitch in a not-quite smile. "Careful how you phrase that, seeing as how you were the one riding my..."

"I get the point," Ben hisses, looking around to make sure they weren't overheard. Sure, it's not the biggest secret on the team that he and Matt are an item, but they've never flaunted what they've got, probably never will. Neither of 'em's built like that.

"But I'll take that bet."

"You're really gonna bet against me?" Ben's not entirely sure how he should feel about that.

"Your idea," Matt points out.

"I'll think of something else," Ben says, and watches the crowd as he takes a long sip of his beer.

"Now who's the pussy," Matt murmurs, nodding his head when Willie passes and gives them a startled look.

Ben doesn't say anything. He just watches the crowd, smiling at a few people, and tries to figure out if he should be mad or not. It's hard to concentrate, though, when Matt's fingers start drawing spirals across the back of his neck.

"Look at it this way," Matt continues, voice low, friendly smile still in place, "there's no way you're going to lose, right?"

"Right," Ben says. He gives Matt a sidelong glance, not bothering to point out that they've been favored since last week or that he truly feels they're the better, stronger team...even if he might be willing to admit it'll be a close game. He's not gonna be dumb enough to underestimate Kurt Warner and Larry Fitzgerald.

"Then me betting against you is a win-win for you."

That startles Ben enough that his head whips around. "What?"

"Well, you're not going to lose so you'll get the ring," Matt says, grin sliding fast into wicked territory, "and you'll win the bet, so..."

"That's, like, cheating," Ben replies, still frowning.

Matt lets out an amused chuckle. "Who the hell said the bets had to be fair?"

"Well, I..." Fuck it, man, it's too hard to concentrate when Matt's fingers are right there, drawing maddeningly teasing circles along his neck and spine. His clothes feel far too tight across his body.

"C'mon," Matt says, abruptly, and plucks the beer bottle out of Ben's hand. "You've made your appearance."

"Right." It's like Ben's speaking on autopilot or something. Then again, he'd defy anyone to concentrate with Matt's hands on them. They're like some form of crack or something.

"Wave good-night," Matt murmurs, hand at the small of Ben's back directing him towards the doors.

Ben waves, ignores the catcalls, just flashes a thumbs up when Hines yells across the room at them. The icy wind, full of swirling flakes, slaps him in the face when they step outside. "Fuck," he breathes, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and heading for the car.

"Later," Matt says, through clenched teeth, head ducked down. "Too damn cold out."

It takes a second for his words to process through Ben's brain, and then Ben barks out a startled laugh. "If it's public sex you're looking for, there's a men's room back inside."

"Nah, we did that once and I'm a selfish bastard," Matt retorts, with a wicked grin, tumbling into the car once Ben gets it unlocked. "Nobody's seeing how you look when I suck you off."

Instantly, cold is forgotten as all of the blood in Ben's body threatens to boil over. "Christ," he mutters, voice thick, and yanks on the lapels of Matt's jacket to bring him close for a hard kiss.

Matt opens his mouth, tongue sweeping in, and takes over like he'd been waiting for just this moment. Hell, maybe he had, who knows. All Ben cares about is the fact that they're finally touching, that Matt's lips are finally on his. Feels like it's been fucking forever, even though it's really only been a few hours.

"Better?" Matt asks, murmuring the word across Ben's lips, the sound a caress.

"Yeah." Ben jerks out a nod, and reluctantly leans back. "I sure as fuck hope you weren't planning on stopping anywhere, though, because the only place we're headed is bed."

Nimble fingers slide down Ben's chest, over his stomach, and Matt smiles as he palms Ben's crotch. "Did I ask you to stop anywhere?"

"Uh..." Really, it's just not fair of Matt to be asking questions when his hand is rubbing over Ben's inseam.

"Start the car," Matt whispers, licking a long stripe up the side of Ben's neck before sitting back. "Or I may have to start before we get home."

"You..." Ben's eyes threaten to cross at the mental image. Just the idea, man. He's half-tempted to take his time, just to see if Matt will follow through with the threat...or is it a promise? But he starts the car, fingers shaking only a little, and throws it in reverse, praying they hit all the lights.

"So." Matt doesn't remove his hand, but thankfully, he's not doing anything with it, either. "You were going to tell me about Troy and T.J.?"

"Who?" Ben asks, then mentally smacks himself when Matt just laughs. Dick. Like he can concentrate when Ben's all over him. "Oh, right. Troy. T.J. Uh, well, you know how they like to get together from time to time to gangbang chicks, right?"

"Yeah. Hell, everyone knows that."

"Just like everyone knows they never touch each other, just the girls they're with."

"Okay, and?"

"Well, apparently," Ben says, warming to his subject, and managing to (mostly) tamp down on the insane lust coursing through him, "one night, they bring back a girl or two, it's all gravy, yada all that, then the chicks leave at some point in the middle of the night, and there's Troy and T.J. all waking up all curled up together the next morning."

Matt's eyes bug a little. "Like, for real?"

"Oh, yeah, dude, they're like two spoons or some shit. Anyway, story goes, they're not quite really awake and sort of kissing and nuzzling and shit, then they realize, holy fuck, not a girl in sight, it's just us chickens."

Matt's not even trying to hold back his laughter now. "Oh, man, I'd love to see footage of that."

"Wouldn't we all?" Ben grins. "So, y'know, this is Troy and T.J., so they freak the fuck out and hightail it out of there, and Troy comes to me for, I am not even kidding, advice on what to do next."

"He did what?"

Caught by a red light, Ben places one hand over his heart and holds up the other. "Swear to God, man."

"Fuck me." Matt curls forward in his seat, holding his sides he's laughing so hard.

"So I'm standing there, y'know, staring at him, because really? He's coming to me for advice on T.J.? The fuck was I supposed to tell him?"

"What did you tell him?" Matt manages to wheeze out, wiping his eyes and struggling for breath.

"I asked him if he was enjoying it before they freaked out," Ben says, with a shrug and a smile. "What else? Not like I've got much experience with this."

"And?" Matt's hanging on every word as Ben starts to navigate the snowy streets again.

"He freaked out a little more, then calmed down...without actually answering me, mind you," Ben says, settling back into his story. "That's when he started asking questions."

Matt's eyebrows go up. "Questions?"

"Yeah, you know. Questions."

"No, I don't know." And fuck it all if Matt doesn't look genuinely perplexed.

Ben taps his fingers against the steering wheel as he waits for the next light to change. "Questions about being with a guy," he finally says. "Y'know, the whole, how'd it feel to get jerked off, sucked off, when did you realize you were attracted, how long before anything else happened, who tops..."

"Whoa, wait, you told Troy about our sex life?"

"No, I did not tell him about our sex life," Ben counters, resisting the urge to knock Matt upside the head. Honestly, like he has no tact. "I just told him general stuff. Like that stubble burn is an issue, but a man's mouth on your cock is pretty much the same as a woman's. And that before he goes all crazy about the anal aspect to maybe play around some down there, see if it's pleasurable."

Matt's silent for a minute, then grins. "I'm impressed, a mature answer."

"Fuck off." But Ben knows Matt can see his answering grin.

"So? What happened next?"

"I have no idea, but T.J. came to visit during our bye week before the San Diego game."

"And he was there tonight?"

"That's the rumor," Ben replies, changing lanes so he can make his turn. "Didn't see him in the bar, though."

"Doesn't mean anything," Matt points out, clearly trying to wrap his brain around the whole thing without bursting into laughter again. "How often were we in the same place and avoided each other except for a quick hello?"

"Good point."

"I thought so," Matt says, with a smug grin. "So, if you're all full of this sage advice, tell me something."

Ben casts a wary look at Matt, positive he shouldn't encourage this. "What's that?"

"How come we didn't play around down there to start?"

"I, um, well...fuck."

"Well, that pretty much sums it up," Matt says, sounding far too gleeful. "I mean, I lost the bet and the next thing I know, you're balls deep up my ass. Not that I didn't enjoy it, y'know, because I did or I wouldn't still be around, but still. No romance at all, no foreplay, just wham, bam, thank you, Matt."

"Well, that was different." Honestly, if Ben didn't know better, he'd say that Matt's up to his usual tricks. Hell, he probably is up to his usual tricks, but it's sort of hard to get mad about it when Matt's saying things like 'balls deep inside ass'. Tends to trip up one's cognitive thinking and shit. "I mean, it's not like we had a relationship. We didn't even like each other."

"And you're saying Troy and T.J. do?"

"I'm saying it's different is what I'm saying." No way he's dumb enough to fall for Matt's obvious tricks. Whatever they are. "And I totally gave you foreplay."

"When?"

Ben stops the car in his driveway and throws up his hands in frustration. "Prepped you with my fingers, didn't I? And we totally fooled around before getting to the sex."

"Somehow I don't think shoving me against the wall and shoving your tongue down my throat while trying to get all my clothes off at once counts as foreplay," Matt points out, sounding far too smug again. Asshole.

"I didn't hear you complaining."

"Well, no, my mouth was full."

"Exactly, and since we're here...y'know. At the house," Ben adds, and turns to give Matt his own cocky grin. "You did promise me something."

"I did," Matt admits, giving the front door a steady look. Then he transfers that gaze to Ben and doesn't even crack a smile. "You want it here?"

The idea is intriguing as hell, and might be almost as much fun as the time on Ben's bike. He considers it for a moment, pretending not to see Matt's hand sliding across the seat towards him. "We could, y'know."

"We could," Matt says, voice low and husky, fingers dancing along Ben's inseam. He smiles when Ben's cock twitches beneath his hand. "Might get caught."

"Yeah," Ben says, trying to breathe, snared by the hot look in clear, blue eyes. It still amazes him how Matt can undo him with just a look or simple touch. His focus narrows, until there's nothing left but Matt.

"You want to?"

The scary thing is, Ben can tell how much Matt wants to do this. And he's so close to letting him, to shoving his head down, and getting a fast, hard blowjob in his own car in his driveway, and then dragging Matt upstairs to bed for more. But, to his surprise, he finds himself shaking his head. "I do, but I'm not gonna be responsible for you fucking up your back even more."

"So, blowjobs in the car is the new monkey sex?" Matt asks, with a wicked grin.

"Something like that." Ben all but shoves Matt towards the door. "C'mon before I change my damn mind."

"I might like that," but Matt obediently climbs out of the car, and starts heading for the house. Ben's just content to lag behind a step or two, just to watch Matt walk (even if he can't see Matt's ass on account of his coat and all.)

"Stop ogling my ass," Matt says, not even bothering to turn around.

Ben just makes a face at the back of Matt's head. "I'm not." There's a small pause. "Not with that coat on, anyway."

"Uh huh."

"Actually," Ben says, nudging Matt out of the way so he can get to the lock, "I was ogling your legs."

"Yeah, they are kinda nice, aren't they?"

"Idiot," Ben says, fondly, fumbling to get the right key, silently cursing himself for not putting his gloves on when they left the bar.

"So, what," Matt says, leaning against the door, "we gonna be all plain vanilla now until my back's healed up?"

"Vanilla?" Ben blinks, then stares at Matt as the door swings open.

"Kinda boring," Matt murmurs, and the smile that appears on his face is the one that drives Ben insane. It's a blatant tell that Matt's up to no good -- which really doesn't surprise Ben. "And after you went sex toy shopping without me, too."

So, it's going to be like that. Alright, then. Ben can play along. "Never asked if I bought anything," he says, pulling Matt inside and kicking the door closed.

"Did you?" Matt doesn't even flinch when he's shoved against the front door, Ben's hands already at work divesting Matt of his layers of clothing.

"Maybe," Ben mutters, then shuts Matt up with another kiss. Instantly, Matt grabs at his coat, angling his head, and Ben all but whimpers into the contact. Far too long, man...

He finally gets Matt's coat off, and then fumbles with the hem of Matt's sweatshirt, cursing when he has to break away from the kiss to get it over Matt's head. And Matt's soft, dark laughter only spurs him on, has him pressing against Matt, grinding against him in need. Their tongues curl around each other, both of them taking from each other, as Matt also succeeds in ridding Ben of his own coat.

"Fuck this, can't wait," Matt gasps, and then slides to his knees in an ungraceful movement. Ben falls forward, braces his hands against the wall, and gasps out a strangled moan when Matt immediately attacks at the zipper of Ben's jeans. Christ, Matt's gonna kill him before they even get to anything else.

Zipper down, Matt tugs at heavy denim, working it down, sighing when Ben's cock springs free. "Make that sound for me again," he murmurs.

Ben opens his mouth, then loses his entire train of thought. Really, what else is supposed to happen when Matt licks up his cock like that? All that emerges is a strangled, muffled noise that's half grunt, half moan, and Matt chuckles quietly. Fucker. The laughter dies abruptly as Matt wraps his lips around Ben's cock and swallows him with one smooth movement.

One hand drops, curls around the back of Matt's skull, but Ben doesn't even try to guide the rhythm. Matt's doing just fine on his own. And the way he's moving, tongue curling along the shaft as his head bobs, cheeks hollowing from the force of his suction, like it's been years since he had Ben like this. Ben's not going to complain, not with the way he can already feel his orgasm building.

This right here was where he'd faltered in talking to Troy - not because he hadn't known how good it feels to have anyone sucking you off, male or female - but because Matt is...unlike anything else. And the way Ben feels when he's around Matt is also unlike anything else, even when they're doing nothing more than jawing at each other and making stupid bets. With Matt, Ben never has to worry about taking control or keeping it - they trade fluidly, give and take in equal measure. He still has no idea how it had happened, but the partnership he and Matt have is one of equals, and Ben wouldn't want it any other way.

"Jesus, Matt," he manages, then even platitudes become too much as Matt does something wild and wicked with his tongue that has stars exploding behind Ben's eyes. His hands reflexively clench into fists as his hips slam forward; he's so close...

When he comes, he takes an almost savage pleasure in the way Matt chokes around him. Mine, he thinks, even as he slumps to the floor, shaking legs no longer able to support him. Feels like every bit of adrenaline that's carried him through the game and after has left him in one white-hot rush.

Matt catches him, one arm tight around Ben's waist, and presses his face to the side of Ben's neck. "Got you," he whispers, pressing soft kisses across stubbled skin. Ben can feel Matt's lips curve into a smile, but fuck if he can say or do anything about it just yet.

"You needed that," Matt says, voice low, rough, but he's still smiling when he lifts his head.

"Yeah?" Ben's quite pleased that he managed to get a word out and that it actually fits in the context of the conversation.

"Relaxed now, aren't you?" With a smug grin, Matt presses a swift kiss to Ben's lips before pulling back. Still grinning, he gives Ben a considering look. "Though...might've been too much."

"Huh?" His head is still foggy, but there's no way that last bit made any sense at all.

"Not gonna be much use to me the rest of the night." And there it is, the wicked glint that Ben's been expecting all night.

"You're an asshole," he says, and starts to nuzzle right where Matt's neck and jaw meet. Sweetest spot on the planet, man.

Matt tilts his head back with a soft murmur of appreciation. "Maybe, but still, I got needs."

"I'll show you needs," Ben grumbles, and bites down, hard enough so that Matt jumps, but not quite hard enough to break skin.

"Didn't you mention toys?"

"Did I?" Granted, it's not quite as arrogant a look as he'd like to give, but Ben thinks he manages alright, considering he's still sort of fuzzy. "I don't recall mentioning any such thing."

Matt narrows his eyes. "Hmm."

"You know, you're really hot when you're all pissed off."

"And you still suck at changing the subject."

"Me?" Ben goes for wide-eyed and innocent, but he doesn't need Matt's look to know he fails miserably. After all, how innocent can he look with his dick out and his eyes still a little dazed from a world-class blowjob? "I'm not changing the subject."

"Okay, so either you didn't buy anything and want me to think you did," Matt says, eyes still narrowed, "or you did, and you're ashamed to tell me."

"I am not!"

The second Matt's expression changes to a smirk, Ben knows he fucked up. "So you did buy something. C'mon, 'fess up."

For a moment, Ben considers denying it again. Then he shrugs. "Just some flavored lube, man."

"Flavored..." The look on Matt's face is worth it.

"Yeah." Fuck, man, this is beginning to feel like a conversation with his dad, and that is so not an image he needs in his head right now. "Raspberry."

"They make raspberry flavored lube?"

Ben has to chuckle at how perplexed Matt sounds. "Man, they make all kinds of flavors, it's crazy, like a sex-version of Ben & Jerry's."

"I think you mean Baskin Robbins," Matt corrects, still looking like he's confused.

"Whatever. You wanna try it out?" Ben asks, waggling his eyebrows. He thinks he might even have the energy to crawl up the stairs to the bedroom.

"How the hell does flavored lube work?"

"What do you mean, how does it work? We use lube all the time."

"Exactly," Matt says, poking Ben in the chest. "And we use it to fuck. I don't think my dick cares what flavor your ass is."

For a moment, Ben just sits there. Contemplates what Matt just said. He opens his mouth, shuts it. Opens it again. "I..." Then Matt looks at him expectantly, and that's it, he's done. A bark of loud laughter escapes, and, before he's even aware of it, he's curled on the carpet, tears streaming down his face, he's laughing so hard.

"What?" Matt stretches out his leg to give Ben a shove with his foot.

That just makes Ben laugh harder, and soon he's gasping for air, hiccupping as he tries to wipe the tears away. By the time he has himself under enough control to sit up, every muscle in his body is limp and Matt's giving him the Look of Doom. It's enough to send Ben off into fresh gales of laughter.

"Fucker," Matt grumbles, and gives Ben another jab with his foot.

"Sorry," Ben says, with a weak wave before wiping at his eyes again. "It's just...oh, God...your dick doesn't care what flavor my ass is..." He trails off in weak giggles, holding his sides in an effort to keep them from hurting.

"Well, it doesn't," and really, Matt is the perfect picture of indignation. Laughing again is probably a bad idea, so Ben bites hard on the inside of his cheek.

"No," he says, in a strangled voice, "but your tongue might."

"My...wait, what?" The shock in blue eyes, the way Matt's jaw practically hits the floor, has Ben fighting hard to not laugh again. Oh, fuck, it's hard, though.

"Well, I could do it first," he offers, trying to be helpful, managing to get it out with a muffled snort halfway through.

Matt just stares at him. "You...oh, man."

"We do everything else," Ben says, by way of explanation, and more muffled snickers slip free. "So, um, I thought we'd try, y'know..."

"You did. And then I suppose you'd want to...dude! You never go ass to mouth!"

That's all it takes.

Once again, he's down for the count, aching ribs protesting each new bout of giggles. "Oh, man," he moans, rocking into a fetal position in a futile attempt to stop the laughter.

"Dude, I'm serious. That's just..."

"Stop." Ben waves his hand weakly. "Seriously, just...oh, ow. My fucking ribs, man, I gotta practice in two days."

"Shut up, you're lucky I don't belt you," Matt retorts, in full-on teenage girl mode. Ben knows better than to point that out, though. He does want to get laid again sometime this century.

"Damn, I knew it was a mistake taking you to see that flick," Ben says, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. He can still feel the laughter, just waiting to bust out. "I mean, you swallow my spunk and then kiss me after, what's the big deal?"

"Well, it's..." Matt stops. Frowns. (It looks pretty damn cute and pretty damn sexy.) "Well, it's..."

"I mean, I'm not talking after we're done with a game or practicing or anything, but maybe after a shower, y'know, so we're both clean...I dunno, looks like they enjoy it in the porn flicks."

"Wait, you watch porn without me, too?"

"Oh, Jesus." Ben drops his head in defeat. "Yes, Matt, I jerk off while watching porn. Sometimes it's even gay porn. Okay?"

"I'm just finding out all sorts of neat facts about you tonight, aren't I?"

The fact that Matt is honest to God pouting is almost enough to set Ben off again. Almost. Instead, he takes a deep breath and crawls over to Matt. "Hey," he murmurs, sliding a hand up the outside of Matt's thigh. "No big deal. Anything I do alone, you know I'm happy to do with you. Happier in most cases."

Matt eyes him for a moment, then rubs his eyes. When he finally looks at Ben again, he manages a small smile. "I know. I'm being a little bitch tonight, huh?"

"You said it, not me," Ben says, grinning. Then he bites his bottom lip, tilts his head. "You tellin' me that you've never watched gay porn?"

"Does this mean I have to be careful next time I borrow your laptop?"

It's a nice dodge of the question, but Ben refuses to let up. "No, I got it from Jeremy," he says, hand tightening across the top of Matt's leg. "Now answer my question."

Matt tenses, then lets his shoulders drop. "Maybe," he admits. "Online sometimes."

"You think about me when you watch it?" Ben asks, leaning in to nibble at Matt's collarbone. His hand makes steady progress up until he's cupping Matt's crotch, wishing they were both naked already.

"Maybe," Matt moans, letting his head fall back. "Okay, yeah."

"Thought so." Fuck this, man, the jeans have got to go. Ben starts tugging at the zipper, needing bare flesh under his hands. "Thought about you..."

"Y-yeah?" Then Matt hiccups out a groan when Ben finally shoves his hand under Matt's underwear, starts stroking the hard flesh underneath.

"Definitely," Ben replies, no longer caring - or even remembering - what the hell they'd been talking about.

"Fuck," Matt breathes. His hips arch up into the touch, and his entire body shudders each time Ben's wrist flicks.

"Getting to that," Ben mutters, lips and teeth marking a trail up Matt's neck. Strong fingers closer over his shoulder, dig in, and he just smiles. He strokes faster, lifting his head to watch Matt, greedy for every expression that flits across his face. "Want you to come for me. Right now."

Matt's head falls back, but he holds on to Ben's shoulder. His breathing is heavy, erratic, and Ben can tell he's close. A few more flicks and some whispered words in Matt's ear, describing what Ben plans on doing, and Matt bucks up with a strangled cry as he spills over Ben's hand.

Absolutely beautiful, Ben thinks, and nudges at Matt's lips until they slide over his, the kiss soft and sweet. "Think we might be able to make it upstairs now?"

Matt's laugh is weak, slightly high-pitched. "When I can move, sure."

"I kinda like you all boneless like this, though," Ben muses, wiping his hand off on his sweatshirt. Yeah, sure, it'll ruin it, but it's not like he can't get more. "You're really open to suggestion when you've just come."

"Isn't that true of every man?"

"Wouldn't know." Ben presses another hard kiss to Matt's lips. "Only one I've been with, remember."

Matt struggles up to a sitting position and kicks off his jeans and underwear. "I meant more in the general sense, not in the specifics."

"In that case," Ben says, unashamedly admiring the way Matt's body moves, "absolutely." He decides he may as well get naked himself, since Matt is.

"Exactly." Matt stands, stretches, and it's obvious to Ben that he's not pushing it. "Y'know..."

Caught halfway to his feet, Ben pauses, looks up at Matt. "Yeah?"

"Doc said I should stay relaxed," Matt says, and flashes what may be the dirtiest grin that Ben's ever seen.

"He did, huh."

"Yep. Said it'll help my back if I don't let myself get all tense."

Stepping closer until his chest bumps Matt's, Ben leans in for another kiss. "Might be able to help with that."

"Think so?" Catching Ben's wandering hands, Matt starts to walk backwards. He doesn't bother to look where he's going; they've spent enough time together that it's second nature, and Ben knows it.

"Absolutely," Ben grins, allowing himself to be led. When they get to the bedroom, he doesn't resist when Matt pushes him onto the bed, and straddles his hips. "So...we never set terms," he says, running his hands along Matt's thighs, admiring the play of muscle.

"Nope, we never did," Matt agrees, and smirks. "What were you thinking?"

Ben leans up, cups the back of Matt's head. "If we win," he murmurs across Matt's open lips, "you'll let me use the flavored lube on you."

"Use the..." Ben can tell, to the nanosecond, when Matt gets it. "Oh. Um..."

Another soft brush of lips. "We got a bet?"

Ben can feel when reluctance gives way to acceptance. "Fuck it, why not," Matt says, and closes the small distance between them.

The fucking Cardinals are going down.

***