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Often, Ben looks hungry. It’s not a look Harry usually saw people wearing openly on the Isle. There, you don’t show weakness unless you can’t hide it any more. Only the most desperate people wear their hungry looks and hope for pity.
Not Ben, though. When he sees something he wants, he stares. And that’s the kind of thing that can make a pirate uneasy after a while, because if somebody isn’t even troubling to hide their weakness, that can mean that you’ve misjudged them. That what you’re seeing isn’t really a weakness at all. If somebody’s letting their guard down, after all, it’s usually because they don’t expect to get hurt.
Turns out Ben’s just not afraid of getting hurt, but it comes to the same thing.
Harry sinks his teeth into the soft skin of Ben’s throat. Ben doesn’t even make a show of resistance, just moans and tosses his head back to make it easier for Harry to maul him. They’re tangled up on the couch in Ben’s room - one of his rooms. The one where he keeps his bed. It’s mind-bogglingly opulent and Harry’s not even sure he’s strictly allowed to be there, but right now he’s got other things on his mind. The bed looms invitingly in one corner, but for now the couch is a nice place to pretend like they might not be going to fuck until it becomes obvious that they are.
Harry lets go of his mouthful of Ben and glances at his face. His expression says, clear as anything, bite me again.
He caused Harry no end of trouble back when the crew first kidnapped him. When Harry flirted with his enemies, they were supposed to resist the slowly-dawning realisation that he was attractive, while Harry watched them squirm. They weren’t supposed to process it, accept it and start openly adoring him in the first five minutes.
Not that being adored isn’t useful. Harry’s just not as used to it as Uma is.
The candlelight gleams darkly in Ben’s eyes. Harry bites him again.
‘Oh, Harry,’ Ben moans. He’s so unrestrained. The only person who Harry gets loud for during sex is Uma.
‘Pipe down, princey,’ he whispers. ‘Is this how you want the royal guards to find you?’ He presses Ben down to lie flat on his back, and oh, they’re definitely going to fuck. He feels warm anticipation thrum through his veins as he lowers his mouth to Ben’s again.
‘Dismissed them,’ Ben says against his lips. ‘Don’t worry…’
‘You really are at my mercy, huh?’ Harry smirks. ‘Feeling safe, your majesty?’
‘No,’ Ben says, but he sounds more gleeful than scared. ‘I don’t want to be safe, I want to be all yours…’
Harry growls and kisses him hard, thrusting in with his tongue. The first time he rolled Ben in the hay he’d have said it was out of pity. Getting to the age of manhood without ever getting laid is something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. And then there was wanting to get his villainous hands on the king of Auradon just to say he’d done it; and the fact that Ben was useful to Uma. But now he has to admit that the little king is fun, not to mention a fast learner. And Harry finds it’s hard to resist someone who wants him this badly, even if being caught in Ben’s want sometimes feels like getting caught in a riptide that you don’t feel until it’s got you too strong to kick free…
‘You want to be mine, do you?’ He lets his breath gust against Ben’s ear. Ben shivers. ‘Oh my sweet, that’s not a safe thing to want; I’m not careful with my things…’
‘Don’t be careful with me,’ Ben pants.
‘I really shouldn’t be trusted with nice things,’ Harry muses, trailing his fingers under Ben’s shirt to make him squirm, contemplating digging in with his nails. ‘When I first came into your fancy palace I marked the hardwood floors, marked the upholstery and now I’m marking you…’
‘I’ll mend,’ Ben breathes eagerly. Harry sucks up another mouthful of his neck, and he moans again and arches closer, a fish that wants to be caught.
‘I deserve a thrashing for that,’ Harry says smugly, looking at the livid purple mark he’s raised.
‘I won’t tell.’ Ben’s practically pushing the next spot he wants bitten into Harry’s mouth.
‘Carte blanche,’ Harry says, a little breathless himself. ‘Blank cheque to make trouble? Alright, I like that.’ And he lavishes light kisses all down Ben’s neck and onto his collarbone, which makes Ben shiver with so much delight that Harry just keeps on doing it, foregoing the teeth he’d meant to add. Really, he’s getting quite fond of the little prince and his fixation with danger.
‘What would you do to me?’ Ben asks. ‘If you really couldn’t get in any trouble at all, ever? What would you do?’ No shyness or careful phrasing as he urges Harry to talk dirty to him. He must be getting properly carried away.
Harry hesitates, because he’s sure that none of the answers that come to mind are ones Ben wants to hear right now. He likes Harry fierce, but Harry doesn’t think he’d really be fierce with him now, even if he could get away with it. And that’s not altogether a welcome thought.
For a distraction, he sits back on his heels and pulls his shirt off over his head. It works. Ben sits up, reaching for him, pressing his hands to Harry’s sides and then sliding them down and round until they’re wrapped in a close embrace. His mouth goes to Harry’s neck. Harry deserves to get bitten back, wouldn’t mind getting bitten back, but Ben stays gentle. He peppers Harry’s neck with kisses, then his shoulder, then his clavicle, and now Harry’s the one letting his head fall back, getting breathless for the feel of Ben’s mouth. It shouldn’t work on him, these kisses that you could probably give to a princess in a low-cut gown and still salvage the story in the morning, but it does. His nerves are alight. Ben disentangles his legs from Harry’s and slides right off the sofa, putting his face level with Harry’s torso. That’s a little closer to scandalous. He kisses Harry’s chest, skims his nose down towards Harry’s stomach, then pauses to look up.
Harry smirks down at him. He’s been through this dance enough times by now to know a few likely sets of steps. Ben, by contrast, is still new to finding himself between somebody’s legs and thinking through all the things he could do next. Never mind that Harry gave him his first lessons in sucking cock on this very couch.
He’s gazing up at Harry still, eyes all wide and shining and Christ, that mouth. Harry doesn’t know if he wants to bite it or fuck it. But he holds himself still, waits to see what Ben will do of his own accord.
Ben bends his head slowly and presses a kiss to the very innermost inside of Harry’s thigh.
‘Bed,’ Harry says, ‘now.’
Ben looks up. Harry gets a hand around his throat to guide him to his feet, then steers him backwards, towards the big four-poster that’s just been waiting to envelop them. Ben goes with the push, startled but happy to be manhandled. Harry brings him right up to the edge of the bed. Then at the last second he grabs Ben by the waist and twists, so that they bounce down onto the mattress with Ben on top.
Ben laughs. He likes Harry playful as well as fierce. Harry lies down, waiting again to see what Ben will do. Ben bends over him, staring in obvious admiration before he goes back to work on Harry’s chest. His hands slide over him, stop and slide and stop again. His mouth follows them, hungry, devouring, like he can’t decide where to kiss first; like he wants to kiss all of it before it gets taken away from him. It’s pretty damned flattering. And pleasant, too, to be able to lie back and let Ben show him a good time sometimes, now that he’s had a little practise
‘What am I going to do with you?’ Harry sing-songs. He lets his eyes fall shut for a moment, enjoying all the sensations that Ben’s mouth and hands are lavishing on him. ‘Hmm, what should I have you do to me?’ He catches Ben’s chin and strokes a suggestive, possessive thumb over Ben’s lower lip.
Ben looks at him with heat, and then he catches Harry’s thumb in his mouth and sucks. Brat. A spike of want goes through Harry’s groin, and he pulls his hand free and gives Ben a slap on the cheek. Ben rolls with the blow, all startled, pleased eyes, and then says in a rush,
‘I want to try something with you.’
‘I should hope you do,’ Harry says lazily. ‘What sort of a something?’
‘I, um – um. It’s hard to put into words…’ Ben says, and then he ducks his head and laughs a little. He’s awkward, and he knows he’s awkward; he doesn’t try to hide it like a villain would.
‘Don’t know how to tell me?’ Harry teases. ‘You’ll just have to show me.’
The heat has ebbed a little as Ben stops to think, and Harry feels easy. Fond, even. He settles his head more comfortably on the feather pillow and waits to see where this is going.
Ben sits himself down across Harry’s lap, one knee on either side of his waist, and grinds down. Alright, Harry’s very interested in that. Ben’s hips roll firmly; his spine curves. It’s a nice view. What a pretty slut you’re shaping up to be, Harry thinks, and reaches up to grasp Ben’s waist.
‘Come on, dear; tell me what you’re dreaming of,’ he says.
Ben lays himself down over Harry, face turning into the side of his neck.
‘Promise you won’t laugh,’ he mumbles.
‘No,’ Harry says, kissing his ear. Ben shivers.
‘No, you won’t laugh?’
‘No, I won’t promise.’ Harry’s already laughing.
‘Alright,’ Ben says. ‘Harry – I want you to fuck me.’
A little warning ping goes through Harry, and Harry goes still.
Ben’s willingness to pause and take stock and think during sex is something new to him. Harry’s never stuck for an idea, and he’s never surprised. When he goes still with Uma, it’s because she’s told him to wait, and he holds himself in readiness. When he’s the one in charge of the scene, he keeps it rolling smoothly from beginning to end. He doesn’t let his partner up until they’re done.
But he’s surprised now.
‘What, like this, you mean?’ he blurts, and slaps a hand down on Ben’s ass. Big gestures to distract Ben from the fact that he’s thrown. It’s not even a particularly outlandish request.
‘I want you inside me,’ Ben says in a softer voice. Harry’s cock twitches at the same time as his stomach gives an anxious squeeze.
‘Now, where did you get that idea, princey?’ he asks.
‘Mostly from ancient erotic poetry,’ Ben says.
‘Ahah! “Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo?”’[1]
Ben shivers and presses his face tighter into Harry’s neck and says,
‘Yes please.’
Harry draws in a breath, and there’s that warm little squeeze of a feeling at making a joke that lands, that little squeeze of surprise at Ben of all people knowing something he knows, and then Ben adds,
‘Also, your crew joke about that sort of thing constantly. I got curious.’
Harry shuffles himself halfway out from under Ben and sits up against the pillows. Of course Ben heard it from the crew. He’s obsessed with villain things, and he likes to think that he can handle anything that a villain can handle. I believe that Villain Kids are good, so everything that’s good for them is good for me, his logic goes.
Meanwhile, he’s still kneeling across Harry’s lap, looking all expectant. Harry needs to get this thing moving again.
‘What makes you curious?’ he says. Stalls. Damn it.
‘It sounds…intense.’ Ben’s pondering the question with his usual earnestness. ‘And I…like it when you do intense things to me.’
‘You know we’ve…already been fucking, right?’ Harry says. ‘It’s all sex. This isn’t something you have to do to make it count.’
‘I know,’ Ben says gently. ‘I want to.’
Harry swallows.
‘It’s alright if you don’t want to,’ Ben says, but his face clearly says I’m confused about why you wouldn’t want to.
Damn it. He’s realised something’s up with Harry. And the last thing Harry wants is Ben knowing what he’s feeling during sex. Especially when he’s not sure himself.
‘I think I could stand to,’ he says. He takes hold of Ben’s shoulders and rolls them, thumping Ben down into the pillows. Ben goes with a little gasp, eyes lighting. He’s so easy to play. It’s been such a lot of fun showing him all the different ways two people can fight dirty together…
Well, actually it’s been pretty nerve-wracking some of the time. Wondering if he’s going to catch it in the neck from the powers of Auradon for corrupting their precious prince, or if this act or that wrong word is going to be the one that finally makes Ben snap and realise that you can’t tame a villain kid, or at least not this villain kid.
He remembers the first time they tumbled together; first glee at the thought of slinging some mud at Auradon’s perfect king, then the fear that he might have vandalised something he couldn’t understand. Both childish ways to feel about sex. Ben’s just a man, and he’s no less textbook-good now that he’s on his way to being able to deep-throat like a pro. Nothing to worry about.
All the same, he’d better check that Ben understands exactly what he’s asking for.
‘You know this isn’t quite like other kinds of fucking, Ben?’ he asks. ‘It can hurt.’
‘I don’t mind that,’ Ben answers. Understatement.
‘I mean, it can do damage.’
‘I trust you,’ Ben says tranquilly.
So now it’s his responsibility. Great.
‘Alright,’ he says abruptly, pushing off Ben and rocking back on his heels. He unbuttons his own trousers and pulls them down. ‘Let’s have those clothes off, then.’
‘Er, how do we do this?’ Ben asks, fumbling obediently for his shirt buttons, and oh, now he looks nervous.
‘Do you actually know what you’re proposing we do, Benny?’ Harry asks acerbically.
‘More or less. But I’m sure you know more than I do.’
Virgins, Harry thinks petulantly. Ben’s got no idea what he’s letting himself in for and no caution of all, so of course it’s Harry’s job to look after him. And Harry’s not too sure he wants or intends to do that.
No matter if he doesn’t. Ben’s always been very clear that he likes Harry rough. He wants a ravishing from his wicked pirate lover, and that’s exactly what he’ll get. It’s what Harry wants to give him. They’re on the same page. Nothing to worry about.
Ben is stripping out of his shirt, exposing smooth, unmarked skin that glows with a lifetime of wellbeing – apart from where Harry’s got his teeth into it. He sets the shirt neatly aside and starts on his trousers. It gives Harry a thrill, though it’s not the first time, to watch him stripping obediently, not too proper for a little fun if Harry’s the one offering. He rakes his eyes down Ben’s well-defined abs – far more heat than a king should be packing, really – to his flushed and eager cock. Really, there are much worse things than being asked to fuck somebody who looks like that and doesn’t mind if it hurts. Harry firmly tells his irritated mood to go elsewhere.
‘So, you want to know how we do this?’ he asks. ‘Well…’ He grabs Ben by the ankles and jerks him forward, so that he tips onto his back with his legs round Harry’s waist. Ben gasps like he thinks Harry’s going to start straight in on him. If only. ‘We start with warmsie-upsies.’ He pushes Ben’s legs back towards his chest, gets two handfuls of his ass – taut, firm, well worth fucking – and squeezes. ‘Remember what you’ve got back here and start thinking about what we could do with it. Myself, I find a spanking helps get me going…’
‘Yes, yes please…’ Ben presses his head back into the pillow, making a slight but lovely arch of his spine. Harry gives him a smack, as well as he can with Ben’s buttocks still half on the mattress, and Ben gasps and flinches. Into his hand, not away from it.
‘Just makes everything more sensitive, doesn’t it?’ Harry lets his voice drop; Ben likes a low murmur in his ear when he gets going. He slides his hand up between Ben’s ass cheeks and Ben starts and blinks. Harry wonders how new to this he is. Has anybody touched him back here before? Has he tried touching himself?
He could just ask, but a good rule of thumb is to not ask questions if you don’t think you’d like the answer. Instead, he asks something more practical.
‘Have you got any slick? Oil or something?’
‘Uh, yeah…’ Ben rolls out of Harry’s arms, fumbles in the solid mahogany nightstand at the side of the bed. He moves so awkwardly, flustered about what they’re doing, not making a performance out of it like Harry would have done. Honestly, Harry doesn’t even know why he’s attracted to him half the time. It’s mostly the innocence, he figures. Taking a bite out of something tender. So why is the idea of being the first one to fuck him making his stomach churn?
Ben comes up with his hands full of a bottle of clear liquid and a strip of small silver packets.
‘Well prepared,’ Harry remarks.
‘I’ve been thinking about this for a while…’ Ben’s blush is visible even in the half-light. He shuffles back across to Harry and proffers the packets. ‘Do you know how to use these…?’
‘Condoms,’ Harry says curtly. Because in Auradon they have safety equipment for everything, while back on the Isle Harry had to take his life in his hands every time he wanted to show somebody that he cared for them. And Ben thinks he wants to do it like they do on the Isle. He thinks he wants a ravishing from his wicked pirate lover.
Why is Harry worrying about hurting Ben? Perhaps he’d like to hurt Ben, actually.
Jesus. Two minutes ago he was rolling around on this bed as contented as everything, and now all the sharp edges in his mind are jangling with anger. But Harry doesn’t want to feel angry right now, not even if he’s got good reason. And he doesn’t have to. He knows how to calm down. Uma trusts him, Ben trusts him, he trusts himself. He doesn’t have to do anything bad.
He takes a steadying breath, then grabs the bottle and coats his fingers with enough slick to lubricate a slip’n’slide, because he’s determined to be careful. He leans over Ben, laying him back down, and moves his hand between Ben’s legs. Ben blinks up at him, looking nervous as anything.
‘Now, not everybody likes it up the arse,’ Harry says conversationally. ‘If you find you like me touching you back here, though, that’s a good sign.’
‘Alright,’ Ben says. He looks flustered at Harry’s language. His own royal mouth could hardly say fuck me, please in the first place. But he reaches for Harry’s face, and Harry lets himself be drawn down into a kiss. Their lips meet at the same moment as Harry’s slippery fingers find his entrance.
Ben jumps. Harry feels the jolt through his hands, through his lips. He strokes a slow circle around that tight ring of muscle, and feels his own cock, flagging during all their back-and-forth, come up tight against his belly again. He’s thought of fucking Ben; of course he has; thinking is different to doing after all. He’s imagined doing it nicely, and not so nicely, but his fantasy Ben can always take it in the end.
Now they’re trying it in real life, and Harry can’t feel the slightest bit of give in this hole. He pulses gently with his fingers, and Ben shivers against him, but he’s tense as a mainstay in a hurricane.
‘Nervous, princey?’ Harry whispers against Ben’s lips.
‘Every time you press I think you’re going to put them in me,’ Ben replies.
‘Well, I won’t if you don’t want me to,’ Harry says, rather indignantly.
‘I know, I know…’ Ben says, a little breathless. Harry pulls back to watch his face properly, and flexes his fingers. Ben’s eyelids flutter. ‘It feels…’
‘Sensitive?’ Harry suggests.
‘Yeah. Do we do fingers first, then cock?’
Maybe Harry ought to have explained the order of operations. ‘That’s the idea,’ he confirms.
‘Alright.’ Ben closes his eyes and visibly, deliberately relaxes. ‘You can go harder.’
Harry holds his hand tense and ready. He pictures Ben tossing and moaning on his fingers. Then he pictures the sharp, awkward jab of someone trying to push into you when you’re not ready. He pictures Ben pulling away, slow down, I’ve changed my mind, don’t worry, it’s fine.
He withdraws his hand and moves down the bed, positioning his head between Ben’s thighs.
‘Harry?’ Ben asks.
Harry goes to run his tongue up between Ben’s ass cheeks, but pulls back at the last moment and licks his balls instead. Ben’s cock is half-hard, like he’s only been half enjoying this, but now it starts to take a very obvious interest once again. Come to think of it, Harry could probably distract him pretty effectively if he started sucking him off right now. Five minutes and an orgasm and he’d forget all about his little project, at least for tonight. He probably wouldn’t even be disappointed…
Harry licks a stripe up Ben’s cock, and Ben says,
‘Harry, I want – ’
Harry dips his head back down, slides his tongue back and further back. The lube tastes bitter. Ben squirms like he doesn’t know whether he wants to get closer or get away, and Harry grasps his thighs to hold him in place.
‘Harry, what’re you do – oh!’
Rimming’s probably messier than they’re used to in Auradon – but then, Harry’d thought that about blowjobs too, and Ben took to those just fine. He ignores the renewed churning in his stomach and puts his tongue to work, laving up and down. It’s not like he’s asking Ben to be on the giving end, anyway. All his highness has to do is lie back and enjoy the fun. Harry makes his tongue pointy and thrusts.
‘Oh God!’ Ben gasps, and lets his thighs fall open. This is a much better way of warming up a beginner than going straight in with fingers, though Harry’s not sure why he’s putting in this much effort to show his majesty a better time than he’s been shown his whole damned life. Isle or no Isle, some things don’t change. Ben’s tossing and moaning against his tongue just like he’d pictured, and Harry –
Harry can’t feel anything.
Normally, lust is a current that carries him instinctively from one action to the next, but right now it feels like that current is flowing on without him. There’s no impulse to continue. But he’s done plenty of awkward, messy jobs in his time, and this is no different. He keeps going. The appetite comes with the eating, after all. Preparation isn’t always fun, but he’ll enjoy the payoff. Probably.
‘Harry,’ Ben pants, ‘Harry, are you, okay…?’
‘Fine and dandy, princey,’ Harry replies, and then he gives a quick suck on the tip of Ben’s cock, because he doesn’t want him thinking too hard about exactly what Harry’s doing to his ass, or noticing the moment when he went still, again. Ben jumps, and thrusts carelessly into Harry’s mouth. Selfish prick, the thought springs to Harry’s mind, but then Ben catches him by the shoulders and pulls him back up the bed, into his arms.
‘Come on, Harry, what about you?’ he asks.
‘Gotta make sure you’re good and ready,’ Harry says.
‘I’m ready. I want you.’ And when all Ben’s limbs twine around Harry, when he kisses him again without a hint of squeamishness, Harry can feel that warm current of passion trying to sweep him up again. He’s pressed tight between Ben’s legs. They’re so close. Maybe Harry could slide into him right now. Maybe it would go fine, just like in his dreams.
Careful. He’d decided to be careful. He disengages himself and reaches for the condoms.
‘Where do you want me?’ Ben asks. As instinctively as he pressed against Harry a moment ago, he’s still got no idea what he’s doing.
‘Hands and knees is a good place to start,’ Harry says. Ben rolls obediently onto his front, positioning himself carefully. Harry looks at the back of his head, and suddenly, vividly remembers grabbing him from behind in the alleyway behind the Chip Shop. Seeing his eyes light up with fear as he learned first-hand how vicious villain kids could really be.
The memory doesn’t make him any less hard. He must be a proper sadist, whether he hurts Ben this time or not. He tears a condom out of its packet and rolls it on, an awkward motion that he’s only ever seen in books. The latex doesn’t want to unroll. Harry jerks it down sharply. His hands always know he’s angry before he does. He reaches out and plants a hand firmly on Ben’s lower back, and Ben twitches.
Flinches.
Harry goes still.
‘I’m not doing this to you,’ he says.
There’s no impetus to continue anywhere in his body. The words taste like a bitter relief.
‘Huh?’ Ben looks breathlessly over his shoulder. ‘It’s fine; I’m ready; I can do it.’
‘Look, princey, this is an Isle thing, okay?’ Harry gives Ben a little pat on the backside and pulls away. He tries to look careless, which is difficult when he’s buck-naked and hard. ‘I don’t think this is your wheelhouse.’
Ben rolls and sits up.
‘People do it in Auradon,’ he says.
‘Some people, maybe,’ Harry snaps. If there’s one thing Ben hasn’t learned in the time they’ve known each other, it’s how to drop it before he gets himself in trouble. ‘But you’re the king.’
‘I am,’ Ben says, ‘and what about it? Do you think the king doesn’t fuck?’
The words sounds ludicrous in his mouth. Harry wants to laugh.
‘You’ve fucked me yourself.’ Ben’s inexorable.
‘Do I need to explain to you that it’s not the same?’ Harry says.
‘You told me it was the same,’ Ben answers. ‘Just now, you said it all counted as sex.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ Harry curses. ‘Yes, I can fuck you, alright; I can’t put you arse-up like some two-bit whore – ’
‘Like Uma does to you?’ Ben interrupts. Harry stares at him, speechless.
‘Do you feel ashamed of what Uma does to you?’ Ben presses. Harry grits his teeth. He’s not going to answer that; he’s not going to tell Ben about the feeling he gets at Uma’s feet, that hot, helpless feeling that would turn to shame in an instant if she chose to sneer, but is safety as long as she protects him.
And then for a flash of an instant his brain makes him a picture of Ben underneath him, and everything sliding easily together, and Ben the one feeling hot and helpless, and him the one who protects –
Harry jerks further away from Ben and stops that thought in its tracks, because when – damn it, when Ben decides that getting fucked is rough and dirty and not what he wants for his Auradonian self, Harry’s not going to have a dream of how it could have gone to compare to how it actually went. Forget it. Forget it.
He takes a deep breath, trying to cool his sudden anger. All Ben actually did was ask him for a fuck. That’s not a crime. Harry doesn’t have to make a storm over it; he’s not crazy.
‘It’s just different,’ he says, trying to sound firm. ‘I’m not doing it to you.’
He risks a glance at Ben’s face. Ben, who must be pretty disappointed that he’s not getting swept off his feet by his pirate ruffian for the first time. Ben, who is looking speculative.
‘Alright,’ he says. ‘Then I’ll do it to you.’
‘What?’ For a moment, sheer indignation swamps the mess of other nonsense Harry’s feeling. ‘You will not!’
‘I didn’t mean I’d top, or however you say it,’ Ben says. He should not know those words. ‘Lie down.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Harry demands, but he lets Ben push him down onto his back just the same.
‘Well, I can go on top, can’t I?’ Ben says. ‘I’m sure I’ve heard of people doing that. And if I really don’t like it I can just get off again.’
He glances at Harry, and his expression turns from bossy back to his default concerned-and-anxious. ‘Is that okay…?’ he asks.
‘Sure,’ Harry blurts. He gesticulates at his cock. ‘Fine, whatever, do your worst.’
Ben clambers across Harry’s lap. He looks nervous again. Good. Maybe tonight’ll finally be the night he realises that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Harry can dream. Ben reaches behind himself and grips Harry’s cock, wiggling himself into position like he’s trying to settle himself on a very uncomfortable chair – which in a sense he is. It takes him a few tries to get them both lined up. Then he bears down, and the head of Harry’s cock slips away from his entrance and up between his buttocks instead. Ben frowns and repositions them. Harry closes his eyes and tries to pretend he’s not there. He’s not helping, damn it; he doesn’t even want this.
He wants this so much it hurts.
Ben presses down on him again. His hand is tight on Harry’s shaft, his body warm and slick with lube, and this time Harry feels the tell-tale pop of muscles stretching to let him in.
‘Oh!’ Ben says. ‘Oh, hah, okay…’ He relaxes his thighs the barest bit, lowering himself a little further, letting Harry slip a little further into his body. Harry squeezes his fists, keeps his eyes tight shut. He didn’t make Ben do this. He didn’t make him.
‘Okay,’ Ben repeats, and raises back up. Don’t do that! Harry wants to shout. You’ve done the hard bit! If it slips out now you’re never going to get it back in! But at the same time Ben’s ass is gripping the most sensitive bits of his cock, and then Ben doesn’t lose him and slides back down, and Harry can’t help bucking up into him.
‘Oh!’ Ben says again, sharper and louder.
‘Sorry!’ Harry chokes out. ‘I’m sorry – ’
‘No; s’okay,’ Ben says thickly. He shifts about, trying to find any angle that’s comfortable; Harry knows how uncomfortable it is when you’re not used to it, or when you’re not built for it. How much longer till he gives up? When he does, Harry’s going to go down on him every which way he wants until he’s made up for whatever he did to make Ben think he had to try and do this.
‘What do I do?’ Ben asks.
‘We can stop – ’
‘Nuh-uh.’ Ben shakes his head. Stubborn bastard. ‘Tell me what to do.’
‘Bear down,’ Harry instructs. His hands unstick from his sides of their own accord and go to Ben’s hips to guide him. Ben frowns, adjusts his angle again, and finally there’s some give in the tight ring of his ass. He sinks down into Harry’s lap, the tension softening out of his thighs. Harry feels himself slide in deep. He bites back a noise. It’s so fucking close; it’s still likely to go badly but it’s so close to going well that Harry can’t keep himself from hurting, knowing that he cares either way. He doesn’t want to stop.
‘It’s okay,’ Ben repeats, and he sounds a little easier now. His weight settles more fully against Harry’s thighs. ‘I’m okay.’
‘Move, then,’ Harry whispers, and Ben does. He bounces himself up and down, once, then again, without rhythm, one hand on Harry’s hip for balance. It’s the most awkward thing Harry’s ever seen. He wants to laugh at himself, getting all twisted up as if having an inept virgin fidget about on his dick was the best thing that had ever happened to him. But awkward or not, Ben hasn’t pulled away yet. He hasn’t complained that it’s disgusting, or that it hurts. His movements become that bit more regular as he finds the trick of moving himself up and down. His breathing deepens. He bites his lip, and Harry can’t tell if it’s discomfort or something else.
‘You okay?’ he whispers.
‘I think so…’ Ben leans back a little and takes him all the way down again, smoother than before. Harry thinks he might be at the right angle for some prostate action now, and sure enough he curls forward a little on the downstroke, making an oh as if he’s been very gently sucker punched. ‘Hah, that feels…’ Weight firmly in Harry’s lap now, he rolls his hips, working not up and down but back and forth. Harry’s suddenly reminded of him in the saddle, rocking in time with his horse’s canter. He looked so different then, at ease and in control. He looks a little easier now, and the feel of his insides is silken and maddening even through latex –
‘Harry, I like it,’ he says. ‘I like it…I like it…I like it…’
‘Hold still,’ Harry says, grabbing Ben’s hips tighter. Ben stops moving at once. Harry thrusts up again, deliberately this time, hips lifting a bare inch off the bed. A tiny movement in the grand scheme of things; more than enough for someone in Ben’s position. He doubles forward with a gasp, but not a gasp of pain. Oh yes, Harry was right about where he’s hitting him. Ben tries to straighten; Harry fucks into him again and knocks him off balance again.
He can feel some tight, defensive knot slowly coming loose in his mind. Ben asked to be fucked. Harry knows how to fuck. They’re going to be okay. He jerks Ben down as he thrusts his hips up, and Ben moans and reaches for his cock.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ Harry says, grabbing Ben’s wrist. ‘Not yet. You want to come, you be good for me first. Good boys get to come.’ Instinct is back, telling him to take control, though it seems stupidly reckless when he’s still afraid that this is all too far. But Ben obeys.
‘I’m sorry,’ he pants, relaxing his hand. ‘Okay. I’ll be good.’
Harry knows what he’s doing. He knows how Ben likes to be treated. They’re going to be fine.
‘You want to come, you be pretty for me.’ His voice comes out in a rough whisper. He still hardly dares push his luck. ‘Put your hands back. Lean back.’
Ben complies. He plants his hands on Harry’s thighs and leans his weight back into them.
‘Further,’ Harry orders. ‘Arch for me.’ Ben lets his head fall back until Harry can hardly see anything of his face beyond the edge of his chin. His spine follows in a perfect curve. Harry reaches up to trail a hand down his exposed chest, over the smooth skin of his belly to where his cock strains upward. He grasps, and strokes, and rolls his hips. Leaning back, Ben’s got the head of Harry’s cock pressed right into the perfect spot inside him. When Harry thrusts, he cries out and loses that lovely pose entirely.
‘Oh God, oh fuck – ’
‘Lean back,’ Harry repeats harshly. Ben’s hunching forward, trying to protect himself from the onslaught of pleasure so intense that it’s almost like pain, but Harry doesn’t want him protected. ‘Back,’ he says, and lets go of Ben’s cock until Ben has tentatively replaced his hands on Harry’s thighs. Then he strokes him again; Ben flinches forward again; Harry lets go again. He’s got him in the palm of his fucking hand.
‘Let me touch you, just let me,’ he urges, voice softer now, and Ben finally relaxes backwards with a shudder, opening up his body to Harry’s hands, Harry’s touch. Harry bucks up into him as he jerks him off, eyes on every flicker and twitch of the muscles in his core. Ben groans aloud and presses himself right down into Harry’s lap, like he can’t get him deep enough inside him; he braces his hands almost painfully against Harry’s thighs to move himself up and down. Harry plants his feet on the bed for better leverage and matches his rhythm. They’re moving together in perfect tandem, skin to sweat-slick skin. He’s caught up in it, caught completely. It feels good. It feels good.
He pulls Ben down on his cock again, hard, and Ben growls between his teeth and rocks forward again. His hands slam down on either side of Harry’s head, and suddenly Harry’s looking into his eyes. Ben looks hungry, ravenous and tender.
‘Oh, Harry,’ he says, and kisses him on the mouth. Harry’s cock in his ass, his own cock dripping wetness over Harry’s fingers, and he kisses him with all that Auradon tenderness, like Harry’s some princess, like he matters –
‘God, stop!’ Harry chokes out. Ben goes still. Harry takes him by the waist and eases him up and off his cock, and Ben goes obediently with his hands, though his face is full of longing and confusion and fear that Harry might be cutting this short. But Harry’s got no such thing in mind. Forget lying back and letting Ben take all the responsibility. He tried to resist, he really did.
He swings Ben down onto his back and rolls on top. Ben can’t tear his helpless eyes away from his face.
‘Like this?’ Harry asks.
‘Yes,’ Ben says. ‘Oh God, Harry, yes, yes yes – ’
Harry thrusts into him with Ben’s assent echoing in his ears. A perfect mix of pleasure and emotion rushes through every nerve in his body. He jostles his way between Ben’s legs, seats himself as deep as he can in the heat of his body, buries his face in the side of his neck and just lets go.
He pounds Ben into the mattress. The bedframe creaks. Ben’s left hand is pulling his hair so hard that Harry’d think he was trying to fight him off, if his right didn’t keep trying to clutch him closer. His legs are locked tight around Harry’s waist, and he meets each thrust like a blow, crying out. Harry’s dizzy, trying to suck in enough air to work with. Everything smells of Ben; of his soap, his sweat, his well-washed hair slipping like satin against Harry’s cheek.
‘Oh, oh, oh fuck yes!’ Ben curses. Harry grabs him by the chin, pinning his head to the pillow and gripping him tightly so that he won’t be able to deviate an inch from the exact kiss Harry wants to give him, right now. He kisses Ben’s mouth, hard, fucking with his tongue as he fucks him in the ass. He’s never going to stop kissing that mouth. But he has to, to get a breath, and when he does Ben speaks in his ear, a hard, urgent order.
‘Harry, give it to me, give it to me, yes – ’
Harry gives a wrenching cry and comes. Ben sighs and goes pliant around him for a moment, as if Harry’s somehow satisfied him by coming inside him even though he hasn’t come himself. All the strength’s gone out of Harry with his orgasm. He’s got Ben all around him, his body and his arms. He’d like to melt right into him and never move again.
Not good enough. Harry’s not one to leave a job half-done; not when Ben’s been so fucking good. Somehow he hoists himself up on his elbows, reaches down and guides his cock carefully out of Ben’s body. He’s so over-sensitised that even that sensation feels like almost too much. He fumbles the condom off, and that sensation is definitely too much.
‘Harry…’ Ben says. He looks flushed, dazed, fucked to pieces. He looks like a touch would finish him off. Harry slides down the bed and swallows his cock down. He pushes two fingers inside him, finding his prostate unerringly, and Ben comes screaming.
Harry swallows slowly, pulls off Ben’s cock and slumps, forehead pressed into his thigh. He feels exhausted, battered by the intensity of the force that’s grabbed hold of them both. He doesn’t know what happens now, and he feels too tired to find out. Maybe if he just lies here he won’t have to. Head to thigh is so much easier than face to face. But Ben’s fingers twitch in his hair, and Harry finds himself moving once again. He crawls up the bed, and Ben throws himself into his arms, hides his face in his shoulder and clings on tight.
Harry never knows what to do with him when he gets like this. He’d be as confident with a lapful of puppies or some expensive bit of glass. But if Ben wants cuddles, Harry’ll go along. He wraps his arms around him and asks,
‘Okay, Benny?’
Ben doesn’t answer, just gives one long shudder, like Harry’s voice in his ear is enough to send him into aftershocks. He’s still breathing so heavily that Harry wouldn’t be surprised if he can’t find words just yet. Harry pets a hand through his hair to help bring him down, looking for something to say that will help make sense of how this thing has just unfolded.
‘I didn’t mean to do that,’ he tries.
‘Hmm?’ Ben says mussily, looking up. ‘Do what?’
‘Give you such a ravishing.’
‘I like ravishing,’ Ben says. Harry gives a tsk at that. ‘What?’
‘You think you like all kinds of things, Benny,’ Harry says reprovingly.
‘I don’t think I like them.’ Ben pouts. ‘I do like them.’
There’s a silence. They both catch their breath. Harry reflects on the justice of what Ben just said. Ben stays resting against Harry’s shoulder. It’s comfortable. He fits. Harry finds himself trailing his fingers down Ben’s arm again and again, just to feel the smoothness of his skin.
‘You’re strange tonight,’ Ben says finally.
‘Don’t be cheeky.’ Harry lets his hand skim down the dip of Ben’s spine, down to where his body starts to curve outwards again. He feels his own little aftershock of desire as he squeezes Ben’s ass. He was so incredulous while it was happening that it feels like he hardly marked it, can hardly remember it now. It feels like some kind of dream. ‘You’re not hurt?’
‘No,’ Ben says. His face softens, then turns almost shy. He puts his face into Harry’s shoulder again. ‘I dreamed it might be this way,’ he says.
‘What way?’ Harry asks. His heart gives a little kick. Before he didn’t want to hope Ben would go through with fucking him, and now a part of him can’t believe he’s hoping Ben will say something good, let alone prompting him to say something good. But he’s already saying good things. It went well. Surely Harry’s earned it. ‘What way?’ he prompts.
‘I…imagined doing this,’ Ben says to his shoulder, ‘and I liked the idea of it, but I didn’t know if I would really like it…but I hoped I’d like it. I wanted to just, to just let you enjoy me however you want, and enjoy you enjoying me…’ Harry, lying very still, finds himself tightening his arms around him. Ben’s words are doing…something to him, that’s for sure. ‘I want it to be up to you. How we do it. And when it is up to you, and you choose exactly what I want, and I don’t have to ask…’ He trails off, presses himself harder into Harry and shivers again.
Harry doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream at the enormity of what Ben was asking him to do: Harry of all people, who’s erratic on his best day. But at least he understands now. He remembers again that feeling, being hot and helpless under Uma, trusting her to steer him through the rough waters. Knowing that whatever she gives him will be exactly what he needs. And now Ben’s launched them blind into the same dance, with Harry leading, but somehow he’s stepped them through it and brought them out right-side up. He’s done alright.
‘Reckless little thing,’ he growls, and Ben blushes and hides even further against him, like that’s any kind of safe place. ‘What if it’d gone badly?’
‘I don’t think you could do it badly if you tried.’ Ben goes for his mouth. He’s so fucking stuck on Harry; it’s enough to turn a man’s head. He lets Ben kiss him, and then he starts kissing back, planting kiss after little kiss on whatever parts of Ben’s face and neck come within reach of his mouth. They get breathless, get lost in each other, hands going everywhere, lips catching on lips and not a hint of teeth until they’re wanted. Really, it’s a delightful mouth. Harry could kiss it forever.
‘You weren’t half bad yourself,’ he says, and grabs Ben’s ass, making him jump. ‘Took right to it, you did.’
‘Because you were so, you were so gentle with me…’
‘No I wasn’t,’ Harry mumbles, his mouth full of Ben’s mouth, full of his tongue, his head more full of kissing than anything they might be saying. ‘I went hard on you.’
‘But before. When you. Got me ready.’ Ben wants to talk and kiss at the same time. He mumbles his words into Harry’s face and neck so that Harry can hardly make them out. ‘When you – ’ He shivers violently, like the mere memory of getting fucked is overwhelming to his princely nerves. It’s adorable. ‘You did it slowly, you made me want you so much, you made it so I could do anything…’
‘I didn’t want to hurt you,’ Harry mutters helplessly. Ben’s words are coming faster than he can deal with them.
‘You could have,’ Ben pants. ‘I’d have let you. It’s up to you and you didn’t, Harry…until, then you got rough and…’
‘And you took it so good.’ Harry’s swept up in Ben’s narrative now. Let him tell it this way if he wants, and never mind what a mess it seemed at the time. He kisses him back, kisses hungrily.
‘You made me take it so good,’ Ben whispers. ‘Oh God, Harry, do it to me again, please – ’
‘What, now?’
‘Yes, now…’ Ben’s twisting even closer to him, rolling almost on top of him, tangling their legs together. ‘Harry…’
‘Come on, Ben, you’ll do yourself an injury,’ Harry protests, but he can feel his cock twitching in response, trying to rise. He groans internally. He’s tired; so many feelings getting all snarled up inside him; dick and balls still oversensitive from their last orgasm; hell, fucking someone takes work. He’s already got sore muscles. But the way Ben is pressing against him has got every overwrought nerve in his body lighting up again.
‘Please,’ Ben murmurs. ‘C’mon, I’ll help you…’ And he looks up at Harry with those wide blue eyes as he starts sliding down the bed, and Harry reaches out and grabs him by the hair because no, this is not happening, he draws the line. He may be going to fuck the king of all Auradon – again – but he’s not going to have the king suck his cock until he’s good and ready to do it. Not tonight. No.
‘Lie down,’ he says quietly, and Ben looks fucking thrilled to be getting ordered about and having his hair pulled, of course he does. ‘On your side. Come here.’
He grabs a fresh condom from the dresser, then manhandles Ben to lie on his right side, tucked in close against Harry’s chest. It almost looks more like he’s lying down to sleep than positioning himself to get fucked, except for the tension in his muscles and the little shiver that goes through him. Good; Harry will fuck him when he’s lying down to sleep, he’ll fuck him any time he pleases, since apparently he’s already got to fuck him any time Ben pleases; he’ll have himself some fun out of this. It’s all okay; Ben will tell him if it’s not.
‘Oh, you’re in for it now, princey,’ he growls in Ben’s ear, winding his arm around Ben’s waist, tugging Ben tight against him. He lines his cock up with Ben’s entrance, and Ben is still so relaxed and so slick with lube that Harry sinks into him like it’s nothing.
‘Oh, fuck,’ Harry groans. He’s still so sensitive from the last time, the tight clench of Ben’s body around him is almost unbearable. Even more unbearable is the way Ben melts into his arms and lets him. Harry’s almost angry that Ben’s making him do this. Well, if he’s going to be so irresistible then Harry’s done resisting.
He wraps his arm round Ben and thrusts in deep. Ben presses back against him with a moan, and it’s no good; Harry’s got to have more, got to have him harder. He rolls them until he’s almost on top of Ben, pinning him down. He gets his arm around Ben’s waist, bringing their bodies tight together. He fucks him hard and selfishly, and Ben, true to form, seems to like selfish. If there’s a part of Harry’s mind still fretting that he’s gone too far, he can’t hear it over Ben’s constant litany of yes.
His orgasm this time is a slow, aching thing, too much in a way that feels dangerously good. As he goes down to help finish Ben off, again, he feels for a moment as if he’s caught in a loop, and making Ben come is going to get him in the mood again, and Ben’s going to insist that they go all over again. Maybe Ben’s never going to get tired of playing with him, and that’ll serve Harry right for punching above his weight, getting himself involved with an actual king with kingly magic and thinking himself safe just because he was the one putting it in. But Ben comes in a few short, weak spurts, not a lot left in him, and then collapses back into the pillows, limbs and hair fanned out around him, the very definition of luxuriating. Harry thumps his hands down on either side of Ben’s head and leans over him on shaking arms.
‘Satisfied, you spoilt son of a bitch?’ he asks.
Ben laughs. He often finds it funny when Harry’s really rude to him.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Very.’
He looks it, too. Smug as a cat.
‘I ought to spank you into next week,’ Harry says.
‘Hmm?’ Ben asks – purrs, practically; of course he likes that idea. ‘Why’s that?’
‘You’ve always got to push it, haven’t you? One of these days you’re going to get yourself hurt.’
‘Harry.’ Ben rolls on his side and reaches for him. ‘Are you okay?’
Now, who’d answer that kind of question? Not Harry; not on a good day. But they’re in a strange place right now. They’ve got away with everything tonight, but they might not be so lucky next time. Not unless Harry talks now. He gropes for some honesty.
‘Seems like you keep me round just to hurt you,’ he says. ‘Well, it’s not all fun and games, you know. The Isle. Hurting people.’
‘Harry,’ Ben says. His face is tender, and a little sad. He reaches over to brush Harry’s hair out of his face. Harry wants to pull away, but he makes himself hold still instead, and Ben caresses him gently. ‘Do you think I like you because you hurt me?’
‘It seems like you do,’ Harry says. He runs a probing thumb over the love-bites on Ben’s throat.
‘You don’t really,’ Ben says. ‘I know there’s a difference between play-fighting and real fighting, you know. And I like you because you know it too. Because I know you wouldn’t hurt me.’
Harry huffs. ‘I don’t much like that either.’
‘Then I can’t win, can I?’ Ben says coolly. He’s far too self-possessed for somebody who’s just taken it up the ass. Twice.
‘You could stop being so damned trusting,’ Harry says.
‘Prove me wrong,’ Ben challenges.
‘I’m afraid I will,’ Harry flares. Ben only knows that nothing bad’s happened so far. He doesn’t know the work that that’s taken.
Ben’s expression turns even softer. ‘You can slip up a little with me,’ he says. Harry blinks as Ben brushes his cheek. ‘You know I don’t mind it. I like it.’
‘God damn it, Benny, don’t you have any limits at all?’ Harry sighs.
Ben’s eyes flicker. ‘Of course I do,’ he says. ‘You’re just nowhere near them. You’re looking in the wrong place.’
Harry’s heart squeezes a little at that. He knows Ben spends a lot of the time hurting, though he can usually tell himself he doesn’t care.
He thinks about asking, where should I look, but that would be a bit rich coming right after he’d upbraided Ben for trusting him. He stays silent.
‘Harry,’ Ben says. ‘Your limits.’
‘Ugh,’ Harry says. ‘What about them?’
‘You know that you don’t have to hurt me if you don’t want to? Or fuck me either?’
‘Catch me doing anything I don’t want to do, princey.’ Harry tries for offhand, though it’s a bit late for that.
Ben smiles like butter wouldn’t melt. ‘So you like it when I trust you, really?’ he suggests.
Harry looks at him. At the bruises coming on his neck. Thinks about him throwing himself on Harry’s mercy, letting Harry do whatever he wants.
‘Yes,’ he says grudgingly. Ben’s smile widens, and he leans into him. Harry obliges, rolling over him and kissing him on the lips.
He isn’t hurting him when he’s hurting him, and he isn’t disappointing him when he doesn’t. They’re balanced on a knife-edge between pleasure and pain, where everything he does is somehow right. It’s dizzying.
Ben tilts his chin up to press into the kiss, and brushes his hand down Harry’s cheek. Harry fumbles for his wrist and pins his hand down, hard. Ben laughs again. Harry lets go of his wrist and moves his hand to cup his throat, and Ben’s laugh turns breathless. Harry kisses him again. He thinks of that heady gap between could do and will do. He could hurt Ben right now, and Ben loves that he could, and knows that he won’t. He controls the kiss, and it feels like letting go of control, because by taking control he’s doing exactly what Ben wants. And he wants to do what Ben wants. He wants to say trust me, trust me, trust me, to give him nothing but tenderness until Ben lets go completely to him.
‘You want it again, don’t you?’ Ben says smugly.
‘Oh, fuck you, Benny,’ Harry groans. He breaks their kiss and drops his face into the pillow with a thunk. Ben’s in fine spirits. He laughs and kisses the side of Harry’s neck.
‘That’s the idea,’ he says.
Harry hefts his weight on his elbows and looks down at Ben.
‘Not tonight,’ he says, trying to sound stern.
‘Tomorrow, then,’ Ben says mischievously.
‘Suits me. You’ll be sore tomorrow; maybe it’ll teach you a lesson.’
‘I look forward to that,’ Ben says. Harry scoffs as he rolls off him.
‘Stay with me for the night,’ Ben says.
‘Aye-aye,’ Harry says gruffly. He gropes for the tangled duvet and yanks it up over their legs. The arrangement is unusual, but not unheard of, and he’s damned if he’s moving another inch for the next twelve hours. Ben rolls over to blow out the candle, then tucks himself down against Harry’s back, arm winding over his shoulder and across his chest to pull him close. Harry sighs aloud before he can contain himself. He always sleeps better with someone familiar at his back.
Ben kisses the back of his neck one last time.
‘Sweet dreams, princey,’ Harry murmurs.
‘Of you,’ Ben relies. Harry lets hs eyes fall shut. They drift towards sleep, each other’s and safe.
[1] "I will sodomize and face-fuck you." Harry quotes Carmen 16, an obscene poem by the ancient Roman poet Catullus. Headcanon says that the Descendants universe, like ours, has a canon of “classical” poetry, with which Harry and Ben might both be familiar, and where Ben can read things that would be considered unprintable in English.