Huge EFfin Post - Part 2
READ PART 1 FIRST. This entry could not be fit into one, so i made parts 1 & 2. Kay that's all, Thanks :)
Title: Scene Change - That Fucker Kissed Me - Part 2
Rating: borderline PG 13
Summary: Joel & Benji finally have a conversation. Joel & Beni Kiss. Benji Is A Dick. Read to find out why haha.
Dislaimer: This didn't happen.
Notes: This one is for metalhead_00, because she commented amazingly on the last entry (:
Prologue: Benji, Prologue: Joel, No Lies, Just Love , Failed Attempts, Joel is Gay & Benji Gets A Job,
Read This First If You haven't Already ---> ( That Fucker Kissed Me - Part 1 )
Obviously I’d have to work at his house for my first real job. Obviously I have to see him, and then let go of the shitload of crap I was carrying. In front of my boss. God dammit.
I avert my gaze from anyone in embarrassment, and scramble to try and smoothly pick up a box of drillbits that I spilt.
“Omigod. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just not expecting you to come through that door. I feel horrible. Ahh, let me help you.” Joel rushes over to help me collect the bits, and I feel myself start to go red.
What the hell? Why am I blushing? Oh right, embarrassment.
“Son, no need to help. We’re the workers here,” I hear Gordon say.
When I gather up all the pieces I stand up, and realize my proximity to Joel. Our faces are inches away. I look in his eyes for a moment, and he turns beet red. Then he shuffles away into the connecting dining room just across from the kitchen. Weird…
I apologize to the guys, who simply say who cares, let’s get to work.
For the first time I take in the house. The architecture is really well put together, and it’s a nice big space. You can’t judge houses by their outside nowadays because they make nice exteriors, and shitty interiors. But this home: it’s great. I had no idea Joel’s family was so well off…
Why am I thinking about him? I need to hammer me up some cabinet!
///////
I. Am. Exhausted.
It’s been about 6 hours: straight working non-stop. I’m sweating like a dog. My shoulders & back are killing me. But, we’ve done a damn good job if I do say so myself. The kitchen is now completely empty: no appliances, no wires. Tomorrow we can start working on destroying the tiles.
“Nice job boys. Hey kid, not too shabby for your first day.” Pete slaps me on the back, and I smile.
“Okay now, let’s go.” Gordon says.
“We got a 6 o’clock appointment with that merger man. Benjamin? Sorry son, but you aren’t in on this meeting. We’re thinking of expanding however, and if that’s a case, you very well may get a full time summer job. Keep up the hard work, son. You have a knack for this.”
“Thanks.” I say flattered.
“Oh, are you okay for getting home? The drive to the building where our meeting is, is in the opposite direction of the office, and most likely your house.” Damn. No ride.
“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just walk to the nearest bus stop.”
“Okay, that’s great. See you later son.”
‘Wait boss. Shouldn’t we get the boy to take a look at the handiwork before we leave?” Dave points out.
“We got no time. Besides, there’s no need to disturb him up in his room. If he has a problem he can just contact us.”
Joel. He’s been up in his room for hours. At first he just stood there looking fascinated and asking questions. It was kind of cool how interested he was in everything. It was equally cool when he produced newly made lemonade for us, considering his fridge was in his living room.
But then he left and didn’t come back. He entered the room about 4 hours ago to check the progress, then abruptly stopped and mumbled an ‘Excuse Me’. That was about when I took off my shirt. It was so gross from the perspiration. It’s still nasty & it reeks.
Oh god. I hope he wasn’t disgusted by my chest or something…Why do I even care? GAH.
“Okay Benjamin, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Gordon yells out as he slams the door.
“Later,” I mutter.
I gather my things: wet shirt and cell, then slip on the plaid button down I brought on the way over leaving it open.
I look up at the top floor before I depart, then sigh as I step into the cooler air. It’s nice out.
After about 10 minutes of walking I feel my phone vibrate. Funny. I flip it open to see who’s calling: Westwood G. What the hell?
“Hello? Gordon?”
‘Hey, Benjamin! So sorry to call you, but we forgot to get the check from the Madden’s. We need that check ASAP because the supplier’s need their paycheck before tomorrow afternoon. Can you please go back and get it? You aren’t too far from it are you?”
Oh, no.
“Umm, no I can get it… Are you sure you need it now?”
“Definitely. If we don’t get it to them they will cut us off, and that equates to no jobs for us: thus no more cashola.”
“Sigh. Alright, you can count on me.”
“Lifesaver! Seriously. Just get the check and drop it off at the office. We’ll deposit it after our business meeting. Thanks, K, bye”
He hangs up, and I switch directions. This is going to end up well…
As I reach his now familiar house, I knock on the front door. No reply.
I knock again. Once more, no reply.
Hesitantly, I just open it. As it creaks open I can hear the faint twang of a guitar.
Like I’m possessed in a trance, I climb the stairs, following the rhythmic sounds. I reach just outside a door. As I listen I can hear a voice singing with the chords, and my heart skips a beat. It’s one of my favorite songs in the world.
Are you kidding me? Can he actually be playing this? Well, there’s only one way to know…
I twist the knob and slowly open the door. I gasp at the sight inside.
Joel, with a Stratacoustic Fender (my fucking dream), not only playing very well, but singing incredibly to his variation of ‘Winners & Losers’ by Social Distortion. He’s got his eyes closed and he’s swaying to the beats he’s creating. I am in awe.
I just stand there mesmerized until he open his eyes. He notices me in horror and screams:
“Holy Shit! Wha - what are you doing in here!?!”
I stand shock still. Did I actually just basically break into his house & then creep him by watching him play? Not to mention embarrass him. I know if someone walked in on me singing & playing, there’d be hell to pay.
I’m such a freak show.
“Umm, I uh, need the check. If we don’t get it in by tomorrow than our supplier cuts us off. I’m sorry I didn’t knock, but you didn’t hear my tapping on the front door and, and, and I didn’t want to interrupt your playing.” I finish lamely.
“Oh, the check.” He puts his godly instrument aside and walks to his dresser, reaching for the piece of paper. “Here,” he says as he hands it to me.
We just stand there. I can tell he wants me to go, but he’s too polite to say it.
I can’t hold it in any longer.
“Um, can I please look at your guitar?” I plead.
He looks at me in surprise, and then replies.
“Uh, yeah for sure.”
I walk over to it and pick it gently up. I start to examine it in all its holiness.
“Where the hell does one even get the money to pay for one of these?”
“Umm, my grandpa. He gave it to me for my birthday last year.”
“Geez. Wish I had your Grandpa man. Do you mind if I play it?” I’m afraid he’ll say no. I probably would.
But he doesn’t: “Yeah sure. Go for it.” He goes to sit on his bed as he surveys me.
I play a little riff from Iron Maiden.
“Yeah man! The Trooper gone electro-acoustic,” he laughs. He knows this song. He’s into 80’s metal? Holy shit, I’ve totally underestimated this kid.
His smile fades as I walk over to him. I go and sit down next to him on the bed and place the guitar in his lap. I feel him stiffen as my hand brushes his thigh. Why do I make people so uncomfortable?
“Man. Uh, seriously. Thank you. Thank you for letting me test that shit out. That is my dream guitar.” I talk straight ahead with my elbows rested on my knees, and my head down.
I can feel his tension releasing, and he answers, “No worries.” Silence ensues. Again.
“I’m also sorry about, um, about,” I can feel him looking at me. Curious, waiting for a reply.
“About that first day I came. I know I was kind of a dick, but I had a lot on my mind. I just wasn’t in the mood to be really cheerful. So…yeah. I don’t know if you remember that but I-”
“I do remember!” He interjects.“That’s alright man!” He sounds really happy for some reason.
I turn to look at him. As I do, all the muscles in my neck start to spasm. Pain-ful.
“Owwwww, fuck!” I holler.
“What? What’s wrong?” Joel says with concern.
“My fucking shoulders. Jesus.”
“Do you want me to massage them?”
*******************************************
As soon as I say it, we both regret it. He starts to blush & I quickly cover it up.
“I mean, I don’t have to. I wasn’t trying to- I.” Why am I so awkward?
Of course Benji doesn’t want a homo touching him. I want to touch him soooo bad though. He just bursts in here with his open shirt and chiseled abs and nice nipples, all sweaty and junk. Expects me not to be turned on. Fuck!
Seriously, I couldn’t be around him with his shirt off. When I saw him just working, flexing his muscles, I started to get hard. I had to book it to my room to, um, relieve myself.
He’s looking at me now, not weirdly or angrily. He’s looking at me with a tilted head as if thinking.
“That would be nice actually.” My jaw drops. Ever since i've met this boy, my jaw's been dropping way too many times.
He tilts his torso around so I can access his shoulders. I start softly, then knead them harder when I feel a rougher spot.
“Mmmmm, thank you so much.” He purrs. Holy fuck.
I’m getting that feeling in my heart, that nice jumpy feeling when you are totally turned on.
I skim my hands along to his neck, but stop before I put them under his collar. He hasn’t gone tense, and he’s not verbalizing any objections, so I slip them under. As soon as my skin contacts his neck, I’m in heaven. It’s taut but yet smooth. He’s nice and warm.
His lead lolls back a bit like he’s enjoying it, and I smile.
“You know Joel,” Benji starts. He said my name!
“You really are so good at playing man. And your voice is amazing. I’m serious. I know you’re blushing back there, but I don’t lie about things like that. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.” I sit in embarrassed, but flattered silence. How can he even say that to me?
“R-r-really? You think so?”
“Yeah, totally. I’m sorry that I like just walked in, but I love that song. Social D rocks. I was possessed or something, I don’t know.” Huh. So the key to getting Benji open up is to massage his neck and let him play guitars. I shall keep that in mind.
“Well, thanks. But I mean, what about you?” He sits straight.
Turning around he whispers, “ What about me?”
“What about you. You are by far the best guitar player that I’ve ever known.” I say matter-of-factly.
“What!?! What the hell have you been snorting kid?” he looks at me like I’m insane but I don’t know why. It’s true.
“It’s true. When I watch you play, I notice that you have this very unique way of playing. Like, okay, this sounds really stalkerish, but I saw you playing those solos you wrote last week in music. I mean, maybe to the untrained ear they didn’t sound as impressive as say a metal guitarist, but that’s what made them cool. Because a trained ear would know about all tempo changes, and the intricacy of the notes that you made in your pieces. It wasn’t just some fast spewed drivel that lasted for 10 seconds, it meant something. Nobody writes anything that means something to them anymore. That’s why I liked yours. Swear to god, you are going to be the next Jimi Hendrix.” I take a deep breath. I know I’ve just exposed how much of a creep I am, but everything I told him is true in my mind.
His eyes study me for a moment: wide open. He’s expressionless.
Then slowly, he moves towards me, his eyes boring into my own.
He leans forward and cups my chin with his hand. My breath hitches. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I’m paralyzed.
In one swift motion, he kisses me.
It’s a kiss full of passion, and I feel it linger on my lips after he pulls away.
I go to pull him closer to me: I didn’t get to kiss back. But before I get the chance, he quickly jumps up and bolts out of my room and down the stairs.
“Benji!” I rush after him.
As I reach the top off my stairs I see him fussing with his shoes.
“What, what was that!?” I demand.
“I have to go, Joel. See you around.” He practically breaks the door as he opens it, and then quickly slams it.
I run down the stairs to take a look out the window at him scurrying away.
He kisses me, and then just leaves.
Who the fuck, does he think he is?
--------------
Poor Joel. Just trying to be nice. The way to a man’s heart is through giving him an excellent massage (:
Title: Scene Change - That Fucker Kissed Me - Part 2
Rating: borderline PG 13
Summary: Joel & Benji finally have a conversation. Joel & Beni Kiss. Benji Is A Dick. Read to find out why haha.
Dislaimer: This didn't happen.
Notes: This one is for metalhead_00, because she commented amazingly on the last entry (:
Prologue: Benji, Prologue: Joel, No Lies, Just Love , Failed Attempts, Joel is Gay & Benji Gets A Job,
Read This First If You haven't Already ---> ( That Fucker Kissed Me - Part 1 )
Obviously I’d have to work at his house for my first real job. Obviously I have to see him, and then let go of the shitload of crap I was carrying. In front of my boss. God dammit.
I avert my gaze from anyone in embarrassment, and scramble to try and smoothly pick up a box of drillbits that I spilt.
“Omigod. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just not expecting you to come through that door. I feel horrible. Ahh, let me help you.” Joel rushes over to help me collect the bits, and I feel myself start to go red.
What the hell? Why am I blushing? Oh right, embarrassment.
“Son, no need to help. We’re the workers here,” I hear Gordon say.
When I gather up all the pieces I stand up, and realize my proximity to Joel. Our faces are inches away. I look in his eyes for a moment, and he turns beet red. Then he shuffles away into the connecting dining room just across from the kitchen. Weird…
I apologize to the guys, who simply say who cares, let’s get to work.
For the first time I take in the house. The architecture is really well put together, and it’s a nice big space. You can’t judge houses by their outside nowadays because they make nice exteriors, and shitty interiors. But this home: it’s great. I had no idea Joel’s family was so well off…
Why am I thinking about him? I need to hammer me up some cabinet!
///////
I. Am. Exhausted.
It’s been about 6 hours: straight working non-stop. I’m sweating like a dog. My shoulders & back are killing me. But, we’ve done a damn good job if I do say so myself. The kitchen is now completely empty: no appliances, no wires. Tomorrow we can start working on destroying the tiles.
“Nice job boys. Hey kid, not too shabby for your first day.” Pete slaps me on the back, and I smile.
“Okay now, let’s go.” Gordon says.
“We got a 6 o’clock appointment with that merger man. Benjamin? Sorry son, but you aren’t in on this meeting. We’re thinking of expanding however, and if that’s a case, you very well may get a full time summer job. Keep up the hard work, son. You have a knack for this.”
“Thanks.” I say flattered.
“Oh, are you okay for getting home? The drive to the building where our meeting is, is in the opposite direction of the office, and most likely your house.” Damn. No ride.
“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just walk to the nearest bus stop.”
“Okay, that’s great. See you later son.”
‘Wait boss. Shouldn’t we get the boy to take a look at the handiwork before we leave?” Dave points out.
“We got no time. Besides, there’s no need to disturb him up in his room. If he has a problem he can just contact us.”
Joel. He’s been up in his room for hours. At first he just stood there looking fascinated and asking questions. It was kind of cool how interested he was in everything. It was equally cool when he produced newly made lemonade for us, considering his fridge was in his living room.
But then he left and didn’t come back. He entered the room about 4 hours ago to check the progress, then abruptly stopped and mumbled an ‘Excuse Me’. That was about when I took off my shirt. It was so gross from the perspiration. It’s still nasty & it reeks.
Oh god. I hope he wasn’t disgusted by my chest or something…Why do I even care? GAH.
“Okay Benjamin, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Gordon yells out as he slams the door.
“Later,” I mutter.
I gather my things: wet shirt and cell, then slip on the plaid button down I brought on the way over leaving it open.
I look up at the top floor before I depart, then sigh as I step into the cooler air. It’s nice out.
After about 10 minutes of walking I feel my phone vibrate. Funny. I flip it open to see who’s calling: Westwood G. What the hell?
“Hello? Gordon?”
‘Hey, Benjamin! So sorry to call you, but we forgot to get the check from the Madden’s. We need that check ASAP because the supplier’s need their paycheck before tomorrow afternoon. Can you please go back and get it? You aren’t too far from it are you?”
Oh, no.
“Umm, no I can get it… Are you sure you need it now?”
“Definitely. If we don’t get it to them they will cut us off, and that equates to no jobs for us: thus no more cashola.”
“Sigh. Alright, you can count on me.”
“Lifesaver! Seriously. Just get the check and drop it off at the office. We’ll deposit it after our business meeting. Thanks, K, bye”
He hangs up, and I switch directions. This is going to end up well…
As I reach his now familiar house, I knock on the front door. No reply.
I knock again. Once more, no reply.
Hesitantly, I just open it. As it creaks open I can hear the faint twang of a guitar.
Like I’m possessed in a trance, I climb the stairs, following the rhythmic sounds. I reach just outside a door. As I listen I can hear a voice singing with the chords, and my heart skips a beat. It’s one of my favorite songs in the world.
Are you kidding me? Can he actually be playing this? Well, there’s only one way to know…
I twist the knob and slowly open the door. I gasp at the sight inside.
Joel, with a Stratacoustic Fender (my fucking dream), not only playing very well, but singing incredibly to his variation of ‘Winners & Losers’ by Social Distortion. He’s got his eyes closed and he’s swaying to the beats he’s creating. I am in awe.
I just stand there mesmerized until he open his eyes. He notices me in horror and screams:
“Holy Shit! Wha - what are you doing in here!?!”
I stand shock still. Did I actually just basically break into his house & then creep him by watching him play? Not to mention embarrass him. I know if someone walked in on me singing & playing, there’d be hell to pay.
I’m such a freak show.
“Umm, I uh, need the check. If we don’t get it in by tomorrow than our supplier cuts us off. I’m sorry I didn’t knock, but you didn’t hear my tapping on the front door and, and, and I didn’t want to interrupt your playing.” I finish lamely.
“Oh, the check.” He puts his godly instrument aside and walks to his dresser, reaching for the piece of paper. “Here,” he says as he hands it to me.
We just stand there. I can tell he wants me to go, but he’s too polite to say it.
I can’t hold it in any longer.
“Um, can I please look at your guitar?” I plead.
He looks at me in surprise, and then replies.
“Uh, yeah for sure.”
I walk over to it and pick it gently up. I start to examine it in all its holiness.
“Where the hell does one even get the money to pay for one of these?”
“Umm, my grandpa. He gave it to me for my birthday last year.”
“Geez. Wish I had your Grandpa man. Do you mind if I play it?” I’m afraid he’ll say no. I probably would.
But he doesn’t: “Yeah sure. Go for it.” He goes to sit on his bed as he surveys me.
I play a little riff from Iron Maiden.
“Yeah man! The Trooper gone electro-acoustic,” he laughs. He knows this song. He’s into 80’s metal? Holy shit, I’ve totally underestimated this kid.
His smile fades as I walk over to him. I go and sit down next to him on the bed and place the guitar in his lap. I feel him stiffen as my hand brushes his thigh. Why do I make people so uncomfortable?
“Man. Uh, seriously. Thank you. Thank you for letting me test that shit out. That is my dream guitar.” I talk straight ahead with my elbows rested on my knees, and my head down.
I can feel his tension releasing, and he answers, “No worries.” Silence ensues. Again.
“I’m also sorry about, um, about,” I can feel him looking at me. Curious, waiting for a reply.
“About that first day I came. I know I was kind of a dick, but I had a lot on my mind. I just wasn’t in the mood to be really cheerful. So…yeah. I don’t know if you remember that but I-”
“I do remember!” He interjects.“That’s alright man!” He sounds really happy for some reason.
I turn to look at him. As I do, all the muscles in my neck start to spasm. Pain-ful.
“Owwwww, fuck!” I holler.
“What? What’s wrong?” Joel says with concern.
“My fucking shoulders. Jesus.”
“Do you want me to massage them?”
*******************************************
As soon as I say it, we both regret it. He starts to blush & I quickly cover it up.
“I mean, I don’t have to. I wasn’t trying to- I.” Why am I so awkward?
Of course Benji doesn’t want a homo touching him. I want to touch him soooo bad though. He just bursts in here with his open shirt and chiseled abs and nice nipples, all sweaty and junk. Expects me not to be turned on. Fuck!
Seriously, I couldn’t be around him with his shirt off. When I saw him just working, flexing his muscles, I started to get hard. I had to book it to my room to, um, relieve myself.
He’s looking at me now, not weirdly or angrily. He’s looking at me with a tilted head as if thinking.
“That would be nice actually.” My jaw drops. Ever since i've met this boy, my jaw's been dropping way too many times.
He tilts his torso around so I can access his shoulders. I start softly, then knead them harder when I feel a rougher spot.
“Mmmmm, thank you so much.” He purrs. Holy fuck.
I’m getting that feeling in my heart, that nice jumpy feeling when you are totally turned on.
I skim my hands along to his neck, but stop before I put them under his collar. He hasn’t gone tense, and he’s not verbalizing any objections, so I slip them under. As soon as my skin contacts his neck, I’m in heaven. It’s taut but yet smooth. He’s nice and warm.
His lead lolls back a bit like he’s enjoying it, and I smile.
“You know Joel,” Benji starts. He said my name!
“You really are so good at playing man. And your voice is amazing. I’m serious. I know you’re blushing back there, but I don’t lie about things like that. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.” I sit in embarrassed, but flattered silence. How can he even say that to me?
“R-r-really? You think so?”
“Yeah, totally. I’m sorry that I like just walked in, but I love that song. Social D rocks. I was possessed or something, I don’t know.” Huh. So the key to getting Benji open up is to massage his neck and let him play guitars. I shall keep that in mind.
“Well, thanks. But I mean, what about you?” He sits straight.
Turning around he whispers, “ What about me?”
“What about you. You are by far the best guitar player that I’ve ever known.” I say matter-of-factly.
“What!?! What the hell have you been snorting kid?” he looks at me like I’m insane but I don’t know why. It’s true.
“It’s true. When I watch you play, I notice that you have this very unique way of playing. Like, okay, this sounds really stalkerish, but I saw you playing those solos you wrote last week in music. I mean, maybe to the untrained ear they didn’t sound as impressive as say a metal guitarist, but that’s what made them cool. Because a trained ear would know about all tempo changes, and the intricacy of the notes that you made in your pieces. It wasn’t just some fast spewed drivel that lasted for 10 seconds, it meant something. Nobody writes anything that means something to them anymore. That’s why I liked yours. Swear to god, you are going to be the next Jimi Hendrix.” I take a deep breath. I know I’ve just exposed how much of a creep I am, but everything I told him is true in my mind.
His eyes study me for a moment: wide open. He’s expressionless.
Then slowly, he moves towards me, his eyes boring into my own.
He leans forward and cups my chin with his hand. My breath hitches. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I’m paralyzed.
In one swift motion, he kisses me.
It’s a kiss full of passion, and I feel it linger on my lips after he pulls away.
I go to pull him closer to me: I didn’t get to kiss back. But before I get the chance, he quickly jumps up and bolts out of my room and down the stairs.
“Benji!” I rush after him.
As I reach the top off my stairs I see him fussing with his shoes.
“What, what was that!?” I demand.
“I have to go, Joel. See you around.” He practically breaks the door as he opens it, and then quickly slams it.
I run down the stairs to take a look out the window at him scurrying away.
He kisses me, and then just leaves.
Who the fuck, does he think he is?
--------------
Poor Joel. Just trying to be nice. The way to a man’s heart is through giving him an excellent massage (: