Tag: only fools rush in

When Carlos pulls, Ben lets himself be led easily, helpless to resist. He guides the both of them to the bed, comfortable and self-assured, as if this were his room and not Ben’s. As if this weren’t the first time Carlos has been in this room.

The moonlight paints everything sensual, but while Ben’s libido wants to interpret this in one particular way, he knows that this is not the case.

Carlos peels back the covers and, with a tug, prompts Ben to go beneath them. With some shuffling, the two of them end up lying on their sides facing each other. Bodies curled towards each other like parentheses, heads resting on the same pillow.

Ben has only ever witnessed this before, and only twice at that; the Lost kids huddling together in one bed whenever one of them felt unwell or needed comforting. The first was after a game with the Highland Bears, one player not reacting well to Jay’s skills, and having more than enough muscle mass to back up their displeasure. Jay had ended up with a dislocated shoulder and a concussion.

He remembers entering the boys’ dorm room and stopping at the sight of all four of them on one bed. Jay’s head in Evie’s lap, her hands gently carding through his hair, Carlos and Dude carefully coiled around his uninjured arm, and Mal laid over top his legs protectively, furiously flipping through the pages of her spell book.

Ben’s entrance had made them freeze, caught off guard and vulnerable. With a silent conversation consisting mostly of eyebrow movements, Mal stood up from the bed to occupy him with a conversation on what level of payback would be seen as rightful revenge versus despicable evil. By the time he looked back, the other three had untangled themselves.

The second time had been after Evie had pulled consecutive all-nighters for her Home Economics project. Needless to say, her series of gowns more than blew the competition out of the water, but the pressure to over-achieve because of her teacher’s prejudice had gotten to her. The eventual and much needed seventeen hour sleep was less of a cuddling session and more of a guard rotation. Ben had actually been included, and had been honored to be so trusted, but while the Lost kids had clambered into bed with her, Ben kept a respectful distance by sitting in a chair.

But those were hardly anything in comparison to now, curled up with Carlos, just the two of them under the covers. This close, Ben can see every individual freckle, every eyelash; he can let himself trace cheekbones with his gaze, the dips and curves of plump lips. A squeeze from Carlos’ hand, still intertwined with his, grabs Ben’s attention.

“You kissed me,” Carlos says, voice low, no need for loudness this close.

Ben nods, cheek rubbing against fabric, the movement no doubt disheveling his bangs.

“Why?” He asks, less rhetorical than expected, considering the obvious answer.

Obvious to Ben, at least. “Because I love you,” he says simply, proximity and moonlight making the confession easy.

“But you love Mal,” Carlos refutes, and though his words are looking for a contradiction, his eyes are searching for reassurance.

“And I love Mal,” Ben corrects, because its true; he loves Mal and Carlos. Ben loves them both but its different for each of them.

He loves Mal the way an optimist loves life: hopeful and admiring for the future. He wishes for her happiness, would gladly provide whatever that may take, regardless of if that criteria includes him or not. He loves her like an ideal, like a king should love justice. He looks at her and knows that if he can make her happy, then he is doing the right thing.

But with Carlos, Ben’s love is… selfish. He wants to be the one to make Carlos happy, he wants to be the one Carlos desires. He wants to be the one who makes Carlos feel safe and be the one to satisfy him. He adores Carlos, and he wants to cherish Carlos for however long he can.

He wants hours of video games that Carlos always wins, wants the sweat and effort of the tourney field. He wants more nights like these, the matching curves of their bodies underneath blankets. He wants mornings together, sunlight casting a golden glow on their tangled limbs. He wants years, he wants forever.

With Carlos, Ben wants.

He tries to explain this, sentences stumbling off his tongue. Ben feels more like a beast than he ever did, clumsy and awkward, with the horrifying potential to hurt Carlos with one wrong move.

But Carlos understands, or at the very least seems to, because he scoots closer. Their foreheads touch, noses bumping gently, and Carlos huffs a laugh, Ben smiles back, and they breathe each other’s air. Emboldened, Ben reaches out his free hand to lay it against Carlos’ cheek. His thumb traces along a line he has only ever looked at before, reveling in the touch of skin, in the knowledge of freckles hidden beneath his fingers.

“I don’t have anything,” Carlos says, which is confusing, until he continues, “I don’t have magic like Mal, and I’m not royalty like Evie, and I don’t–”

“Carlos,” Ben interrupts, squeezing their joined hands, “I don’t want you to be Mal or Evie or Jay, I want you to be you. Because I love you,” He repeats, which is enough to get rid of those worries, at least for now.

Then, because they are so close, Ben has to ask, “Carlos, can I ki–”

This time, Carlos interrupts him, taking initiative to press their lips together. Their noses bump again, and this time Ben is the one to laugh, but he smooths an apology with his thumb, to assure that he wasn’t mocking. Carlos flicks his tongue out in response, faux-petulant, but it’s also testing, teasing. He follows it with a gentle scrape of teeth, and Ben can’t help the small gasp that escapes, absolutely thrilled.

So Ben throws himself completely into it; now that he has permission, he’s going to kiss for all he’s worth. He surges forward, what little space remaining between them disappearing, their entwined hands trapped between their bodies. He catches Carlos’ bottom lip between his own, finally getting to taste, and even though it’s not chocolate, it’s still delicious. He bites down, before soothing the pain away with his tongue; he knows that’s something Carlos enjoys because now his eyes are half-lidded with pleasure, and he’s clutching at Ben’s shirt like he can drag the larger boy even closer.

They continue to kiss, the sound of whimpers and sighs harmonizing with the wet slick slide of lips and tongue and teeth, until the lack of oxygen forces their mouths apart. Panting, breathless, they share air and space. Ben’s hand, having moved to Carlos’ neck, can feel the rhythm of his pulse matching Ben’s own pounding heartbeat.

“Yes,” Carlos says, more air than noise, sly grin somewhat less effective with shiny, reddened lips, “you can kiss me.”

~

A/N: I AM BOTH EXTREMELY PROUD OF THIS POST AND SOMEWHAT HORRIFIED. The latter is due to the fact that I spent a lot of the time shrieking to myself, “I can’t, he’s just a baby!” while I was writing this part. Because Cameron Boyce is adorable and precious and even almost fictionally putting him in a sexual situation is really uncomfortable for me. Like, that kissing really stretched the boundaries of my writing skills (which is what this blog is all about so great practice) so I doubt I even could do sex.

Which, yeah, I’m gonna say it outright: There will be no sex in this series. Cameron Boyce’s adorable baby face prevents me from doing so. But, as any ace person can tell you, sex is not the end all be all of love.

Also, staring at pictures of his face does really terrible things to my heart.

Uh… this was much longer than I expected it to be and covered bases that I wasn’t even really thinking to reach until like… later in the ambiguous non-outline I have for this fic. That being said, this series will probably end at nine or ten parts.

Don’t get me wrong, I have somehow incepted myself into loving this ship beyond my usual shipping levels. But I think for this particular iteration, I’m fairly tapped out. There may be different stories in the future but I make no promises.

Later, when Ben reconsiders what he said to Chad, he admits to himself and his empty single dorm room, that his words may have been… hasty. True, but hasty.

He’s not so committed to the crown that he would doom himself to a life without happiness. And it’s not as if there aren’t literally a dozen other princes and princesses who would be more than happy to have the throne. If he did abdicate.

But he was raised as crown prince, to the idea that his privileged lifestyle was only due to his responsibilities to the kingdom. What kind of king could he possibly be if he were willing to abandon his country? He doesn’t even know if Carlos likes him back!

At that, he smashes a pillow to his face to muffle his groan. He kissed Carlos. He just… kissed Carlos. All of his plans to court Carlos properly, or at the very least ask Carlos verbally if he would even consider going out with Ben, just… gone. All because of a preemptive kiss.

There are bound to be repercussions, but he has no idea what they are because Ben hasn’t seen Carlos since that kiss.

He lets out another muffled yell into his pillow, before pulling it away to breathe.

There’s a knock at his door.

He stares at it, uncertain. It was a fairly soft knock, if there even was one, he could just be imagining things. And, anyway, it’s after curfew, who could possibly–

This time the knock is much louder and far more persistent. So much so that Ben nearly falls while scrambling to the other side of the room to open the door just so that it will stop. And he nearly ends up with a fist in his eye for his troubles.

“Carlos!” He says, then winces at his own volume. He sticks his head out to check in either direction if anyone else heard. The hallway lights are dimmed to night time levels, but the moon is full and the windows let in enough of the glow to see clearly. No one. No one except Carlos, that is. “What are you doing here? It’s after curfew.”

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” Carlos asks, small sideways smirk curling his lips.

Suddenly Ben can’t help but wonder what that would feel like against his own mouth. If laughter filled kisses are better than regular ones.

“Ben?” Carlos asks, hesitantly this time, hands beginning to curl into the fabric of his pajamas.

“Yes, yes, of course. Sorry, right. Yes.” Ben blurts, shaking away his own distracted thoughts, and moving out of the way so Carlos can slip into his room. Ben tries to close the door as quietly as he can, but the click of the latch still seems unbearably loud.

They stand and stare at each other for a while, neither of them sure who should make the first move or even what the first move should be. Ben’s heartbeat thuds heavily in his ears, and the sense memory causes his arms to feel unacceptably empty, makes the distance between him and Carlos seem impossibly far.

He steps closer. And closer. And closer still, until they are in arms length from each other. Ben could easily curl a hand around the back of Carlos’ neck, wouldn’t have to lean too far to press foreheads together. But he doesn’t, because Carlos is staring up at him–not afraid, but tense–and they are only in this situation because Ben acted without asking. So he waits.

He’s not disappointed.

Carlos reaches out, and so Ben reaches back.

In the quiet, moonlit night, holding hands is far more intimate than all of Ben’s attempts at seduction. 

~

A/N: I meant for this part to be Ben thinking all philosophically about his ~feelings~. But then he ended up being this dorky teenage boy and then Carlos butted in and demanded more screen time and I was just like… well… okay then, fictional characters, you do whatever you want.

Aaaand I suppose it’s a weird spot to end, but the next part will pick up immediately from where this leaves off. So… enjoy?

Let’s pretend it’s still before midnight.