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Benrey keeps coming over after that. Neither of them talk about what happened, which is probably in accordance with the “getting even” agreement that Gordon had set forth, but which is still making something strange fester in his stomach. Maybe it’s because it keeps fucking replaying in his mind -- his hand on Benrey’s dick, Benrey’s eyes on him, the way Benrey said his fucking name. But he can’t bring himself to bring it up, although something inside him is itching to. If not to Benrey, then to someone else, but he’s played that out in his mind before, and he can’t say he’s keen on either option.
“Hey, Tommy,” he’d say. “How am I doing? Well, Benrey watched me jerk off and then I gave him a handjob. It was just to get even, though, so it didn’t mean anything. And I can’t stop thinking about it, which I’m sure is totally normal.”
Maybe that’s exactly why he can’t bring it up, actually. Because he’s fairly certain that using his frenemy’s moans as late-night masturbatory material is at that point upgrading them from something very different from friends. Different from enemies, too, when he thinks about it.
So ultimately, he tries not to think about it. Not in detail, at least. Or, he tries not to think about the details in detail. He finds himself very much thinking about certain details very often. It’s probably becoming a problem, actually.
It’s certainly a problem right now, anyway, with Benrey sitting beside him on the couch playing games, like he always does, like he always has, and Gordon can’t stop stealing glances at his face, which of course gives away nothing. He looks about as impassive as ever. Now that Gordon thinks about it, maybe the most he’s seen him emote is while they…
“eyes on the road.”
Gordon jolts, and sees that Benrey is looking at him now, fingers still mashing the controller buttons. He looks away as quickly as he can, finding that Benrey’s character is sweeping the floor with Gordon’s now, which distracts him enough to focus entirely on kicking Benrey’s ass (which he does easily).
It’s surprisingly easy to get into that rhythm again, once he allows himself to. Just focus on the game, focus on racking up easy wins against Benrey the way he can never manage when playing online. It’s easy, it really is, until Benrey shifts and knocks his knee against Gordon’s, just for a second, and Gordon fumbles, letting Benrey get a hit on him.
“Shit,” he mumbles, and recovers as quickly as he can.
“nice one,” Benrey says. Gordon isn’t looking at him, focusing all his attention on the screen, but he can fucking hear the grin on his face.
“Shut up.”
Benrey laughs, and knocks his knee against Gordon’s again. This time, Gordon’s almost ready for it, and he only fumbles a bit. But this time, Benrey doesn’t pull away, letting his leg relax into Gordon’s. Even through his sweatpants, the point of contact is searing with heat that’s quickly crawling its way toward Gordon’s abdomen. He swallows and elects to ignore it. It’s nothing, right? He’s had much more intimate contact with Benrey. Hell, with a lot of fucking people. This isn’t something to get worked up about. Just two guys being dudes, playing a game, and--
Oh, shit, Gordon is getting demolished. Before he can fix his mistakes, a capital “K.O.” flashes on the screen as his character is sent tumbling to the ground, Benrey’s standing triumphantly above him.
“Oh, c’mon!” Gordon groans.
At that, Benrey turns to look at him, and this time Gordon can see his grin. “don’t babbyrag, man.”
“What are you-- No, it’s babyrage, and I am not .”
“kinda sounds like you are.” His grin widens. “mad because i’m better than you?”
Gordon scoffs. “You are not better than me. That was just a fluke.”
“oh yeah?” he says. “prove it.”
“Gladly.”
They start up another match, and for the first half of the first round, Gordon is predictably winning. Then Benrey’s leg moves closer again, his outer thigh pressing against Gordon’s, and his brain all but short-circuits as again that heat moves from Benrey’s leg into the pit of Gordon’s stomach, and the feeling of Benrey’s hand clutching onto his thigh flashes in Gordon’s mind and he feels his dick begin to stir, and in that instant Benrey beats him again.
“Are you fucking-- No, you’re cheating, asshole.”
“what?” he says. “how’m i cheating, huh?”
“You-- You’re--” He clamps his mouth shut. What is he supposed to say? That it gets him so hot-and-bothered when Benrey’s leg touches his that he can’t focus on the game, because that singular point of contact keeps reminding him of before, of touching Benrey, of seeing him fall apart, and wanting to see that again?
Christ. He needs to get laid, or something.
“Whatever,” he ends up saying. “Shut up.”
They continue, and for the next round, Gordon mostly succeeds in ignoring the press of Benrey’s leg against him, and comes out of it with a win. They enter the next round, and before Benrey has a chance to up the ante, Gordon presses back into him, and watches his character do an unnecessary block. They continue like that for the rest of the round, until Benrey starts to get some good hits on him, and then Gordon pushes the ball of his foot against Benrey’s ankle, easily something he would do to anyone out of sheer annoyance. And Benrey lets out a choking noise, and Gordon lands the final hit on him, and he stands up and whoops.
“In your fucking face!”
Benrey groans. “not fair. you got cheats.”
“Yeah?” Gordon says, sitting back down next to him, and Benrey averts his gaze.
“you’re...mean. to me.”
Gordon laughs. “Oh yeah?”
“yeah,” Benrey says. “’cept when you’re nice.” He meets Gordon’s eyes again. “you can be real nice to me. when you wanna be.”
“I… What?”
“just...been thinking,” he continues, setting his controller down.
Gordon gulps, pulse suddenly quickening. “Yeah?” he says. There’s something thrumming in his chest. He can’t tell if it’s anxiety or anticipation.
“yeah,” Benrey says. “been thinking, uh. i don’t think we’re even yet.”
He hadn’t even noticed that their knees are pressed together again, and now it’s all he can fucking notice as that thrumming in his chest immediately moves lower, pooling with the rest of the arousal there and making his dick fucking twitch. Jesus Christ. He wonders if he hit his head at some point, or something.
“Y...yeah?” he chokes out. Real dignified. Christ. “What, uh…” He clears his throat. “What do you mean?”
“i mean, uh.” He smacks his lips. “you jerked me off, right? didn’t do that to you. now i’ve got all these, uh...jokes. things. and they’re reeeeal mean, and we gotta, uh… we can’t have that. can’t have more dick jokes, right?”
“Oh,” he says. Then, “Yeah.” Because that’s been the whole point, right? Solving whatever penis-related awkwardness is between them by...doing this. “We should. Fix that, huh.”
“oh,” Benrey says, like he’s surprised. “sick. right now?”
Gordon can already feel his dick hardening, before they’ve even done anything, Jesus Christ, and he hears himself saying “Sure.” And in a flash Benrey’s on his feet, and he lifts Gordon up onto his feet and presses him against the adjacent wall so fast it’s a wonder how he does it so gently. One hand stays pressing on his shoulder, and the other slips into his pants, cupping at his growing erection. He feels Gordon through his boxers, slowly, methodically, like he’s cataloguing his dick size, or something. Maybe he is, for all Gordon knows.
It’s almost humiliating, how slowly he’s going, how carefully he’s touching, and he’s not even touching. That heat is still blocked by a layer of scratchy fabric, but that doesn’t stop Gordon from jolting at each exploration. And he jolts again when Benrey reaches down to cup his balls, which isn’t an action Gordon ever thought he would be describing as tender, but it’s certainly something close to that, and it has Gordon panting already.
“why’re you so fuckin’ sensitive,” Benrey mumbles, hand moving back upward to slowly stroke his shaft. “barely even touching you.”
“You’re--” He can’t hold back a breathy laugh. “You-- This is ‘barely touching’ to you?”
Benrey’s response is a hard squeeze at the base of his dick that shocks a groan out of him, and then he pulls his hand away, and Gordon barely suppresses an embarrassing whimper. He almost asks what the deal is before Benrey brings his hand to his mouth, and Gordon watches as he trails his tongue over his fingers, one by one, and then down to his palm, and back up again, and then he fucking-- he sticks them fully in his mouth and sucks on each one, slowly, letting his teeth graze them as he pulls them out of his mouth. And he’s-- His eyes don’t stray from Gordon’s, and it’s almost suffocating, but he can’t bring himself to look away.
Finally he takes his hand away from his mouth, and slowly he reaches down and then finally, finally , wraps his hand around Gordon’s dick, and Gordon does whimper at that. Benrey’s hand is warm, and it’s calloused, somehow, maybe from his guard work, or from something else, and it’s slick with saliva and when it squeezes down on Gordon it nearly knocks the wind out of him. And then Benrey starts stroking him with achingly slow movements, and Gordon can’t tell if it’s payback or repayment and he can’t find the braincells to care, not when Benrey thumbs over the head of his dick, not when he smears precum down the shaft and twists, and Gordon cries out, humiliatingly, and his hands scrabble to Benrey’s back and hold onto his shirt for dear life.
“ Hah-- Shit--” he groans, and that seems to spur something in Benrey, whose ministrations pause for a moment as he takes a shuddery breath, and then all at once start again as he brings his mouth to Gordon’s neck and sucks. Gordon yelps and bucks into Benrey’s grip, but it doesn’t coerce him into going any faster. He just keeps stroking at a leisurely fucking pace as he sucks and kisses at different areas of Gordon’s neck, which isn’t helping Gordon’s impatience whatsoever.
He tries to buck his hips again, but as soon as he does Benrey’s free hand clamps down on his hips, pressing his ass firmly against the wall. And cruelly, the hand on Gordon’s dick slows even further, painfully so. It’s-- He can’t help it, he tries to thrust himself into Benrey’s grip again, as pointless as it is. Benrey twists his fist again, and Gordon’s knees almost buckle at that as he grips Benrey’s shirt tighter, and at this point his shame is practically out the door, overcome by neediness, and he whines out, “Please, man.” He squeezes his eyes shut. He just-- He can’t look at Benrey while he’s saying this shit. It’s too much. But it’s spilling out now, embarrassing as it is, and he’s too desperate to stop it.
“Please,” he chokes out. “Please, c’mon, I’m-- Please.”
Then he hears -- he feels -- Benrey moan against his neck, his breath so fucking warm against Gordon’s skin. Then, finally, his hand speeds up, and Gordon practically sobs. Still, his brain latches onto something there, and urges him to experiment.
“Please,” he tries again, and Benrey pants harder against his neck, hand speeding up again.
“God,” Gordon chokes out. “Please, Benrey, please,” he begs, unabashedly now, because if the hot breath against his neck is any indication, the begging isn’t just for him.
“gordon,” Benrey moans into his ear, and Gordon shudders and groans at that. “gordon, gordon, gordon,” he repeats, like a horny mantra, and he’s not even the one getting jerked off but he’s saying it so urgently, right against the shell of Gordon’s ear, and his voice breaks against one syllable and Gordon comes into Benrey’s fist.
He slows down again, stroking Gordon through the aftershocks, and then well after, until it’s near painful.
“ Ghh -- You--” Gordon squirms in his grip, but doesn’t protest, just clings tighter onto Benrey’s sweatshirt and finally, finally, gets to cant his hips up into Benrey’s fist.
Eventually, Benrey slides his hand off of Gordon’s spent dick, and gingerly tucks it back into his boxers. Slowly, Gordon releases his grip on Benrey’s shirt, and puts his weight against the wall behind him, legs shaking.
“that, uh… was that alright?”
“That-- Yeah, that was alright, you fucking dumbass,” Gordon said. “Jesus Christ.”
Benrey nodded. “uh, cool. guess we’re, uh, good now.” With that, he shoves his hands in his pockets and takes his leave, and as Gordon gets his bearings back he can’t help but zero in on the prominent tent in Benrey’s sweatpants as he exits, and disappointment settles in the pit of his stomach as the door closes.
“Fuck,” Gordon says. Because seeing how achingly hard Benrey was, Gordon really wants to jerk him off. Again.
He puts his head in his hands and considers how absolutely fucked he is.