Know Me Without It by Bexless
Ben's arms are incredible, and Ethan supposes he shouldn't expect them to just open for him without question, but it's been a really bad night. He's still angry, but he's hitting the slump that always follows the rage and right now he just needs someone who doesn't give a fuck about the band.
Someone who knows him without it.
It's almost four, and Ethan falls through the door when it opens, dropping his forehead heavily onto Ben's shoulder.
"Mmmf."
Ben laughs, and one of his hands comes up to rub the back of Ethan's neck. "So I hear."
"I'm going to *kill* Clark," Ethan moans, letting his arms go around Ben's waist. "Garrote him. With an E string."
Ben hums a little, and his other hand is under Ethan's jacket, pulling out his shirt to rub circles on the skin underneath. They match the shapes Ben's thumb is tracing on Ethan's throat. "I thought his stand in was pretty good."
"He fucking should be. Guy's a fucking celebrity now and - wait." Ethan lifts his head to squint suspiciously at Ben. "I thought you said you heard."
Ben shrugs. "Maybe I saw."
Ethan blinks, nods, and puts his arms around Ben's neck, instead.
The kiss is hot, and deep, and Ethan finds himself back against the door before he even realizes it's closed. He lets Ben press into him, wrapping one of his legs up around Ben's hip and pushing up. The hand under Ethan's shirt is flat and warm on his stomach now, with the other sliding up the length of his arm to pin both Ethan's wrists against the wall.
Clark would so not approve of this. "You shouldn't use people for sex, Ethan," he'd say, earnest and so fucking wholesome and concerned. "You don't see it as a big deal, but who knows what kind of promises they think you're making?"
Fucking Clark. He ruined the gig tonight, now he's going to sit in Ethan's head and ruin his sex life, too?
"You should probably know." Ethan pulls away from Ben's tongue gasping. Clark's rubbing off on him. Metaphorically speaking. "That I'm only doing this because I'm substituting physical intimacy for real emotional comfort. Or something."
"That's okay," Ben pants back, "I'm only doing it because you're a really good lay."
Ethan laughs and kisses him again, pulling free of Ben's grip. "Bedroom," he says, pushing his hands underneath Ben's hat and combing through the damp spikes. "I want you to fuck me."
The apartment's tiny, and Ben's hands are strong on Ethan's thighs. He barely comes up for air as he walks Ethan backwards through the minefield of empty beer bottles and pizza boxes that seem to litter the living quarters of every guy aged between eighteen and thirty.
Except Lex Luthor, who probably drinks the blood of virgins and then has a cleaning staff wipe up his splatters when he's done.
Ethan doesn't want to think about Lex, or follow any train of thought which leads to Clark, so he sucks on Ben's tongue instead and grins when he feels the groan rumbling in his chest. "It's been a while, Benedict."
"Your fault." Ben's hands are at Ethan's belt, and he talks between kisses. "Too busy chasing fame around that corner."
"I'm never too busy for you," says Ethan, grinning.
Ben pushes him back onto the bed and pulls off his jeans. "I'm flattered. And glad you haven't changed your underwear preferences."
Ethan isn't wearing any. They're both smiling and the words come easy because it's always the same - and it's not really lying if they both know what's true and what isn't.
"Shouldn't you be taking your anger out on some hapless look a like?" Ben's over him now, pressing him down into the bed and it's good, solid. Grounds Ethan again and stops that dizzy feeling he gets when there's not room for all the stuff inside him and he feels like he might just explode. "Like that footballer you blew in the locker room in tenth grade after I stood you up for Cindy McGraw?"
"If I wanted to do that, I'd go home and jerk off in front of the mirror." Ethan tastes Ben's laughter on his tongue and starts to feel less like a seething ball of weirdness and more like Ethan who went to high school and had a boyfriend and knew there was a world outside his guitar.
Someday I'll be a real boy, he thinks wildly, and then Ben's hand slides between his legs and the last of the anger slides away with a shiver.
Ben knows him, and Ethan gets lost for a while in the arch and stroke, aware that he's mirroring Ben's actions only because one minute his hand is empty and then the next it's not.
"Don't," Ben murmurs, trying to pull away. "I'll come."
"Yeah," says Ethan, locking his arm around Ben's neck and holding on. "I know."
It's like being back in high school, handjobs on Ben's bed before either of them knew any better, Ben's fingers linked through Ethan's, holding them together and Ethan watches Ben throw back his head and ride it.
It hits Ben first, he goes still and gasps and there's more heat and more wet. Ethan follows him over, pulling Ben down so he can bite his lower lip as he comes, tasting copper when he pulls too hard and it only makes him thrust harder.
Ben collapses on him, gasping and mouthing at Ethan's neck and jaw. Ethan keeps his eyes closed and listens to him breathe.
He should really write a song about this. Something about familiarity and afterglow. Silver and Gold. You know me without everything I am and shit, he should get his notebook, write this stuff down so he doesn't -
"Well," says Ben, breaking into Ethan's reverie. "That wasÉ"
"Unexpected?" Ethan gropes around on the floor until he finds a T-shirt to clean them off with. Ben rolls his eyes, scooting up the bed and pulling the rumpled duvet over himself. "After one of your tantrums? The only thing unexpected about this is that you knocked first."
Ethan shoves half-heartedly at Ben's shoulder, crawling up to slide in beside him. "Asshole."
Ben mutters something in reply; halfway to sleep already with his arm curled around Ethan's waist.
Ethan watches him for a minute, and decides the song can wait. Because it's not always about the music.
Sometimes it's about being with someone who knows who he is without it.
05/05/03