Vanilla #2: The AU Sniffles
Author: Sly
Title: What If...Benton Liked The Other Stafford?
Rating: R (implied rape, blackmail) Warning: Homosexual relationship.
Challenge: Vanilla #2: The Sniffles
Topping: Chopped Nuts! (Major AU...Gay Benton)
Word Count: 1,020 words
A/N: Okay, this was supposed to be more of a fluffy, funny story. It ended up darker and more serious because Reuben refused to be gay. In this story, he's not "in love" with Imagyn (at least, not yet), but he certainly isn't feeling Benton. Benton, though, is a different story.
Reuben hated being sick. What he hated more, however, was being sick and being forced to watch his friend singing on the stage. Imagyn’s voice was perfection, but with his headache, it only served to continue the hammering in his skull. Resting his face in his hands for the fourth time during her song, he exhaled deeply.
“Where did you ever find such a creature?”
Reuben jolted at the voice, staring up at the man in glasses. Mr. Lewis Benton usually spent his time sitting in the front row, eyes glued to Reuben’s “wife.” To see him in the very back was nothing short of a surprise. “Eh?” A sniffle accompanied his muffled words. “Wha?”
“Sick?” Benton sat down without asking, forcing Reuben to sit up straighter. “That’s a shame. Don’t give my leading lady laryngitis.”
“Have to be exchanging fluids for that,” Reuben pointed out, before realizing his faux pas. “Eh, I mean…”
“It’s rather obvious you two were a marriage of convenience. You don’t look at her like a man looking upon his wife.” Benton’s gaze remained on Imagyn. The sparkle in his eyes, Reuben saw, wasn’t as lustful as he originally thought. It was more…curiosity.
“Oh, well…”
“Where did you find her?” The Establishment member asked again, the pressure of his questions falling onto Reuben’s already heavy head.
“Picked her up off the street.” The Obsolete hoped his answer sounded like a joke rather than how serious it really was.
“You’d make a lot of money if you gave the name of that street to the gentry. They’re always looking for women of her caliber.” Benton waved his arm at the stage before finally turning to Reuben. “Though, women’s flesh often turns cold when the money is handed over.”
“She’s not a whore,” said Reuben as he straightened up. Though he certainly wasn’t sleep with Imagyn, he refused to let anyone call her derogatory names.
“I hadn’t meant to imply that,” Benton explained, leaning his elbows on the table. He folded his hands and laid a clean shaven face on top. Another glint of something came through the lens of his glasses. “I only meant most women are only into marriages for the money. I assume you have a lot of it.”
“Imagyn doesn’t want money. She just wants a companion. I mean, she had a rough life-”
“She can’t remember it. Don’t try to fool me. I worked at the Establishment for years,” Benton accentuated his speech with a wave of his hand, “and I’m no fool, Reuben Shepard.”
Reuben’s back stiffened, muddled thoughts clearing. How could Benton have found out, he wondered. He’d dyed his hair, scarred his face, and…acted completely like he did when he worked at the Establishment. “Shit,” was the only reply Reuben could manage to make.
“I used to admire you, Shepard. A refugee from Ireland who quickly rose to the Doctor’s favor. I wanted to be you,” Benton explained, rising from his seat. He walked slowly, his footsteps like lead pounding against Reuben’s mind. “But then I realized something. I didn’t want to be you at all. Too much responsibility. Too many opportunities to fuck up.”
“What will make you say nothing?” Reuben felt his blood heat up as Benton came behind his chair. He inched forward, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Plots of escape crossed his mind, but all were doomed to failure. If he tried to run, Whine and Gravel would get him and probably kill him on Benton’s command. If he threatened Benton, the man would turn in Imagyn within seconds, Reuben included. He knew that there was a Gold Warning on Reuben’s head. Money wouldn’t buy him off; neither would biochemical mapping.
Benton leaned down, continuing on as if Reuben had said nothing. “I waned to be with such a pinnacle of masculinity. I wanted to feel your skin against mine. Feel your hair running through my hands.” His actions mimicked his last statement, causing Reuben to jolt forward.
Reuben turned, facing the man who was blatantly coming on to him. “I’m not gay.”
“You don’t need to be. You just need to submit to me for a little while.” One of Benton’s hands rested on Reuben’s shoulder. His glassed gaze flickered to Imagyn for a moment before leaning forward, brushing his body against Reuben’s. “Just once a week when your darling ‘wife’ comes to sing.”
Reuben’s face, if not red enough from the insinuations, flared at the contact. His head shook, mouth trying to come up with words. “I…no…there’s no way…”
Benton sighed, pulling back enough to reach into his pocket. Their hips connected, bringing a quiet “Oh!” out of Reuben’s chest. The slimy grin Benton shot him was enough to make him retch.
“I’ll have to call Joachim then. He’ll probably send one of his sons to finish the job.” The black radio he’d removed from his slacks lit up as he scrolled through the names.
Evergreen eyes focused on his ‘wife,’ hoping she’d notice him in the back and run. Reuben wished, for once that he wasn’t sitting in the very back row, hidden from everyone. He wished they weren’t in a club where the Deadfayth Emblem mocked him at every glance. He wished the sickness would leave, giving him the strength to ignore Imagyn’s well being and let her die. Even if he didn’t love her, even if they were only friends, could he go through something so terrible to save her?
“Fine,” Reuben gritted out from between clenched teeth. “Fine. Once a week until I can kill you.”
“Marvelous.” Benton’s smirk widened, eyes taking on a whole new glint. One of pure evil and malice.
Moving faster than Reuben’s weary eyes could detect, Benton attached his lips to Reuben’s neck, biting down on the fragile flesh. Another “Oh!” escaped from Reuben and his eyes slipped closed. Only moments later he was being escorted behind the stage.
Hanging his head, he shot one last glance towards the woman on stage. “You better appreciate this.”
Title: What If...Benton Liked The Other Stafford?
Rating: R (implied rape, blackmail) Warning: Homosexual relationship.
Challenge: Vanilla #2: The Sniffles
Topping: Chopped Nuts! (Major AU...Gay Benton)
Word Count: 1,020 words
A/N: Okay, this was supposed to be more of a fluffy, funny story. It ended up darker and more serious because Reuben refused to be gay. In this story, he's not "in love" with Imagyn (at least, not yet), but he certainly isn't feeling Benton. Benton, though, is a different story.
Reuben hated being sick. What he hated more, however, was being sick and being forced to watch his friend singing on the stage. Imagyn’s voice was perfection, but with his headache, it only served to continue the hammering in his skull. Resting his face in his hands for the fourth time during her song, he exhaled deeply.
“Where did you ever find such a creature?”
Reuben jolted at the voice, staring up at the man in glasses. Mr. Lewis Benton usually spent his time sitting in the front row, eyes glued to Reuben’s “wife.” To see him in the very back was nothing short of a surprise. “Eh?” A sniffle accompanied his muffled words. “Wha?”
“Sick?” Benton sat down without asking, forcing Reuben to sit up straighter. “That’s a shame. Don’t give my leading lady laryngitis.”
“Have to be exchanging fluids for that,” Reuben pointed out, before realizing his faux pas. “Eh, I mean…”
“It’s rather obvious you two were a marriage of convenience. You don’t look at her like a man looking upon his wife.” Benton’s gaze remained on Imagyn. The sparkle in his eyes, Reuben saw, wasn’t as lustful as he originally thought. It was more…curiosity.
“Oh, well…”
“Where did you find her?” The Establishment member asked again, the pressure of his questions falling onto Reuben’s already heavy head.
“Picked her up off the street.” The Obsolete hoped his answer sounded like a joke rather than how serious it really was.
“You’d make a lot of money if you gave the name of that street to the gentry. They’re always looking for women of her caliber.” Benton waved his arm at the stage before finally turning to Reuben. “Though, women’s flesh often turns cold when the money is handed over.”
“She’s not a whore,” said Reuben as he straightened up. Though he certainly wasn’t sleep with Imagyn, he refused to let anyone call her derogatory names.
“I hadn’t meant to imply that,” Benton explained, leaning his elbows on the table. He folded his hands and laid a clean shaven face on top. Another glint of something came through the lens of his glasses. “I only meant most women are only into marriages for the money. I assume you have a lot of it.”
“Imagyn doesn’t want money. She just wants a companion. I mean, she had a rough life-”
“She can’t remember it. Don’t try to fool me. I worked at the Establishment for years,” Benton accentuated his speech with a wave of his hand, “and I’m no fool, Reuben Shepard.”
Reuben’s back stiffened, muddled thoughts clearing. How could Benton have found out, he wondered. He’d dyed his hair, scarred his face, and…acted completely like he did when he worked at the Establishment. “Shit,” was the only reply Reuben could manage to make.
“I used to admire you, Shepard. A refugee from Ireland who quickly rose to the Doctor’s favor. I wanted to be you,” Benton explained, rising from his seat. He walked slowly, his footsteps like lead pounding against Reuben’s mind. “But then I realized something. I didn’t want to be you at all. Too much responsibility. Too many opportunities to fuck up.”
“What will make you say nothing?” Reuben felt his blood heat up as Benton came behind his chair. He inched forward, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Plots of escape crossed his mind, but all were doomed to failure. If he tried to run, Whine and Gravel would get him and probably kill him on Benton’s command. If he threatened Benton, the man would turn in Imagyn within seconds, Reuben included. He knew that there was a Gold Warning on Reuben’s head. Money wouldn’t buy him off; neither would biochemical mapping.
Benton leaned down, continuing on as if Reuben had said nothing. “I waned to be with such a pinnacle of masculinity. I wanted to feel your skin against mine. Feel your hair running through my hands.” His actions mimicked his last statement, causing Reuben to jolt forward.
Reuben turned, facing the man who was blatantly coming on to him. “I’m not gay.”
“You don’t need to be. You just need to submit to me for a little while.” One of Benton’s hands rested on Reuben’s shoulder. His glassed gaze flickered to Imagyn for a moment before leaning forward, brushing his body against Reuben’s. “Just once a week when your darling ‘wife’ comes to sing.”
Reuben’s face, if not red enough from the insinuations, flared at the contact. His head shook, mouth trying to come up with words. “I…no…there’s no way…”
Benton sighed, pulling back enough to reach into his pocket. Their hips connected, bringing a quiet “Oh!” out of Reuben’s chest. The slimy grin Benton shot him was enough to make him retch.
“I’ll have to call Joachim then. He’ll probably send one of his sons to finish the job.” The black radio he’d removed from his slacks lit up as he scrolled through the names.
Evergreen eyes focused on his ‘wife,’ hoping she’d notice him in the back and run. Reuben wished, for once that he wasn’t sitting in the very back row, hidden from everyone. He wished they weren’t in a club where the Deadfayth Emblem mocked him at every glance. He wished the sickness would leave, giving him the strength to ignore Imagyn’s well being and let her die. Even if he didn’t love her, even if they were only friends, could he go through something so terrible to save her?
“Fine,” Reuben gritted out from between clenched teeth. “Fine. Once a week until I can kill you.”
“Marvelous.” Benton’s smirk widened, eyes taking on a whole new glint. One of pure evil and malice.
Moving faster than Reuben’s weary eyes could detect, Benton attached his lips to Reuben’s neck, biting down on the fragile flesh. Another “Oh!” escaped from Reuben and his eyes slipped closed. Only moments later he was being escorted behind the stage.
Hanging his head, he shot one last glance towards the woman on stage. “You better appreciate this.”