Oh boy... another new fandom. Is it even a fandom? Anyway, I felt I had to try and write this.
Author's Note: Missing scene from ep 1x06, because John Cooper is my FAVORITE! And Ben Sherman is very pretty. Together they're an angstbomb I just couldn't resist. :) A bit of a writing experiment, as I tried to match the show's style.
When he kissed her, Ben imagined he could still taste John on his tongue.
It had been hours, and in the meantime he'd had dinner at his mom's (no arguing, as she had wished, instead a stiff silence and stilted attempts at conversation that felt much worse than shouting would have) and had taken a long, boiling hot shower, but still he only had to close his eyes in order to be back in the car, his face in John's crotch like a ten-dollar hooker about to get busted by vice.
He had definitely not expected this, and he was pretty sure that "fuck my partner's mouth" had not been on John's agenda either. Hell, Ben had not even known that John swung that way (not officially, at least, had not heard it from John, which was the only way that counted in his mind). Yet somehow, after their awkward confrontation about the pills and the pain had stalled, John had stopped the car at the curb and they had sat in silence for a while until something (probably his need to be everyone's knight in shining armor, and look where that had got him) prompted Ben to ask: "Anything I can do?"
"What the fuck do you think you can do? Buy me a new back?" The look on John's face, the familiar mix of anger, contempt and exasperated fondness for his naive do-gooder rich kid partner, and Ben had no idea why but he reached out and put his hand on John's shoulder, fingers starting to sweat on the sun-hot dark blue of John's uniform.
"Maybe... something else. Anything. Just... take your mind of it somehow." Ben had been surprised at the calm sound of his own voice over the din of faraway traffic, had tried to figure out what the fuck he was offering. But John made the decision for him, his face tightening as he swallowed, his fingers gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles stood out.
John's voice was scratchy, low: "Take my mind of it. Kid, do you have any idea..."
His body was rigid under Ben's fingers, as if he could snap at any moment, and Ben felt like the dumb kid John called him so often because he hadn't had any idea. But he wasn't stupid (on the contrary), and it was the easiest thing in the world to angle his body towards John's, slide his hand down and down, drowning out the involuntary hiss from John (too vulnerable, too surprised, too... everything) by saying, or half saying: "Okay. Yes. Just. Let me."
John was not hard when Ben touched his cock through the dark blue fabric, but he twitched and his thighs fell open just a bit. Ben's free hand touched John's face, just quickly, fingertips skimming over his cheeks (not quite missing his parted lips), and John fumbled with his seat, pushed it back while Ben bypassed John's badge, sun glare blinding him for a moment. Then he opened John's belt, the zipper, all the while feeling John's cock grow beneath his steadily moving hand, hearing his breath become more uneven. Boxer-briefs, already with a small damp spot, and Ben slid one hand underneath John's shirt, encountering not flesh but the stiff ridges of a corset, skimming along its edges, skin slippery with sweat between overheated police officer and the polyester of the car seat.
A quick glance along the empty street they were parked on and Ben leaned down, made himself invisible from the outside and wrapped his lips around the waiting flesh. His right hand kept on twisting around the base, too dry strokes, and John's cock heavy and salty against his tongue. He glanced up quickly and saw John's hands gripping the wheel and the side-door, John's head laid back against the headrest, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed and grunted or groaned quietly (never a moan, John Cooper didn't moan). Ben reached up with his left hand and, pressing it against John's mouth, stopped sucking long enough to order (not a question, not this time): "Lick it."
John's hips bucked slightly and Ben peeked up to see his partner's eyes widen. But before he had to repeat himself John licked his palm, letting go of the side-door to hold Ben's wrist with calloused fingers. His tongue was precise, no nonsense, thorough, and Ben exhaled sharply through his nose as he did his best to keep up the rhythm. Once John released his hand he used it to slick the part of John's cock he couldn't reach with his mouth (he'd only done this a couple of times, and never like this, in the daylight, with gunfire echoing in the distance and the stench of an overturned trashcan in his nose when it wasn't buried in John's damp curls). He was not sure what it meant that John did not go back to gripping the car, instead resting an almost-hesitant hand where Ben's shoulder and neck met, thumb just brushing the soft skin below the collar, the other barely touching Ben's head, moving aimlessly, making Ben's scalp tingle before settling on his back, twitching when Ben touched John's balls or swirled his tongue around the salty-tasting slit.
When John came with a hoarse grunt Ben's back was aching and he couldn't feel his legs (next time he'd make sure they weren't in the car, except that there wouldn't be a next time, because what the fuck was he even doing) but he almost regretted the moment when he had swallowed it all and tucked John away, zipping him up and closing his belt, and there was nothing left to do but meet his partner's eyes. John looked serious, almost angry, face in hard lines, but his hands lingered on Ben's shoulders for just a moment as he helped him sit up, and Ben asked: "So, did that take your mind off it?"
John barked out a surprised laugh and shook his head in disbelief, same as always (silly rich kid partner, what the fuck, Ben could read his mind and was almost glad that that much hadn't changed): "That it did. Fuckin' hell. You're something, you know that?"
Then, taking them both by surprise, he had leaned over and kissed Ben, lips clashing with a hunger which made Ben want to be somewhere (anywhere) else and which made John's eyes tighten and close down when they finally broke apart. The tires had squealed a bit too much when John accelerated down the street, and Ben held on, read the street signs, and pretended like he did not want to crawl across the distance between them (the car felt simultaneously claustrophobic and unbelievably vast) and right inside his partner.
He wanted to kiss him until he opened up and let Ben fix him and curl up in his arms until all that was wrong in Ben's world disappeared. Instead he kissed the girl he wasn't supposed to kiss and did not think of John Cooper's tongue in his mouth.
