#BoRhap fanfc

[writeyourownlifestory]

‘39, A HARDZELLO LOVE STORY

Two men brought together due to unique circumstances are ultimately torn apart by societies proper standards and a war going on across the sea.

Can be read here

[writeyourownlifestory]

Love Someone -- Hardzello fanfic

First, I just want to say that this is completely due to Joe and Ben being good sports and giving us amazing fan service on Instagram. Well aware it’s all fake, but who doesn’t want to have some boys loving boys fun? 

This is technically rated M so read on your own accord. 

In the fic: BoRhap doesn’t exist. Ben is a model. Joe is a writer. They met the rest of the guys through Rami, an actor who befriended them both. 

Can also be read here. 

Please reblog/review/enjoy. 

They were friends through other friends, nothing more. If they hadn’t met when they did, their paths probably never would have crossed. It was at a party. A rather boring one, to be completely honest. Ben had been invited and while he always enjoyed a good get together, didn’t exactly feel much like partying as of late. Not for any particular reason. Modeling was going well. He landed another Vogue issue. Versace was in talks currently, but anything could happen with them.

He had spoken to his agent, hoping to branch out into other things. Commercials. Movies. Real acting really but for now, solid pictures for magazines and billboards were his thing. He didn’t mind too much. The money was good. And he was happy.

Sort of.

He went to the party for . . . who knows why really. Maybe because he wanted to do something. Get out of the loft. He wasn’t hungry or tired. Just bored. So he went.

And there he was, a grown man in a bear costume, singing Prince. No, it wasn’t a costume, but rather one of those onesie type outfits. Ben didn’t get the appeal, but then again he figured they weren’t exactly marketed towards him. More for children and those who were children at heart.

At first Ben thought the man was drunk out of his mind. He was singing wildly. Almost animated. So dramatic and ridiculous, but when it came to an end and everyone cheered him on, the man thanked everyone and walked off the makeshift stage, completely sober.

That was when he first met him. Joseph Mazzello. Joe, as he went by. He was a writer. He hoped to be a director one day, but for now, he wrote. Nothing in particular. Show episodes. Music videos. He wasn’t famous, but then again, nobody at the party was.

Closest was the one throwing the party. Rami made it big on the silver screen though you’d never really know it. He met Ben in London during fashion week. Rami had been invited by his girlfriend, who did the show with Ben.

They didn’t have much in common, but Rami was a relaxing soul and made Ben feel welcome whenever he was in the states. He was there currently for some shoots. Three months and then he was back to London for his next show.

Rami did all he could to make him feel welcome. Invited him around town, introduced him to different people. He even when to set once, meeting the cast and crew. Ben wasn’t a jealous person, but even he couldn’t help to feel envious while he watched Rami work.

Ben was theatrically trained, as many who grow up in England were when they made the decision to act. He never got a break or call back, but thanks to his good looks he was able to make a living with one type of camera.

He had made some other friends. Other Europeans like himself that were stuck in the states trying to make a living, and other Americans that did what they could to survive in their current climate.

Joe was one of them, though he didn’t know if they’d be considered friends. Allen, he could go out and grab dinner with. Gwilym, he’d get a beer and watch the game. Rami, well they could do practically anything, but Joe . . . he was an odd duck.

They were so different. Polar opposites, to be exact.

Ben was more casual, keeping everything inside. He didn’t get very emotional or really even invested into much. If something didn’t work out, then he’d move on and focus on something else. If he went for an audition and he didn’t get a callback, then he’d get over it and put his attention onto his next modeling gig.

If someone didn’t like Joe’s script then he would spend the entire week cursing their name and swearing he’d steal away their firstborn son. He screamed a lot, actually. It was quite worrisome at first, but Rami assured Ben that it was just part of Joe’s personality. He was very dramatic, always had something going on in his mind.

Rumor had it he kept a typewriter in his car, but Ben never got around to ask. Or see for himself.

They didn’t hang out on their own. They just didn’t. Not that they didn’t want to. Ben at first though Joe hated him, but each and every time they came together, Joe would smile and greet him as kindly as ever.

He guessed they were both too busy for the other. Always having something else more important to do than to make time for the other. Ben didn’t mind much. He was, after all, a busy man. A working man.

Dolce and Gabbana got him for their newest perfume. It was something to celebrate. And when Rami offered to throw him a party, Ben didn’t fight it.

They partied a lot in California. Far more than they did in London. Rami’s birthday. And then Gwilym’s. And then Ben landing the perfume and then Lucy’s surprise party. So much to celebrate.

Allen had gotten married and Ben arrived in a dark tux and shining shoes. Joe was there, without a date much to his surprise. He had also come solo, as well as Gwilym. Rami came with Lucy, which was to be expected.

Everybody danced and cheered on the loving couple, though Ben found himself growing far colder than expected. His own relationships hadn’t been ideal and while he wasn’t jealous, seeing a friend go on and get married while he was still stuck in the same place effected Ben in a way he hadn’t expected.

He said nothing, like always. What was the point of getting emotionally involved in something he couldn’t change? He didn’t have time for a girlfriend right now. He had auditions to focus on.

Two tv shows and movie. One for an upcoming SyFy channel show. Another was a guest spot on some sitcom where he would be playing the eye candy for one of the main girls to flirt with for an episode. And the movie . . . he had no idea. He hadn’t read the script yet but he knew he was going to be playing some hot stud.

If he got the part, that was.

But he didn’t. He had gone to all three and got two callbacks, but in the end, none of them worked out.

Less than two months left in America and then he could return home. Dolce and Gabbana’s campaign went well and seeing his face all over, in different stores and ads, it was exciting, but he wanted more.

He told his agent to find him something good. Allow him to show his growth.

He said he would try his best.

He found a particular salience knowing he wasn’t the only one suffering. One night at Gwilym’s loft, Joe let it slip that his script had been shut down by six different studios. It was a painful blow. One that no one knew what to do with. Gwilym could only pat his shoulder and tell him to keep going. Rami promised to show the script to the show creator, in hopes of having it passed along to the right people.

And Ben just kept drinking. He knew the pain and suffering of being passed on. On being told not to quit his day job. American beer was absolute garbage, but he would drink it after every missed opportunity. And a lot of them had come along as of late.

He suffered in silence and he preferred it that way.

He suffered still, watching all his friends move on without him. Gwilym got a show back in England and left shortly after telling everybody. Allen moved back to Ireland though not before spilling the beans that his own show would be doing a film. They were bringing the whole cast back and seemed like the entire world was losing their mind over it.

And Rami . . . the only thing better than finding out he would be playing a literal legend in an upcoming biopic was getting engaged.

You would think a semi-famous Hollywood couple would want to have a big wedding, but alas, they chose to keep it small and secret. Only friends and family were invited and the wedding itself took just three weeks after the engagement was announced. Allen and Gwilym flew in for the event, but they were staying. They had their own lives to return to.

And Ben would be flying back too. Just four weeks from this point.

Everybody was having a good time. Rami’s family. Lucy’s. Friends from Rami’s show and Lucy’s events. Ben knew a handful of people, though nobody really spoke to him. A few ladies asked him to dance, but he declined. They were models. Gorgeous, but he passed. He didn’t want to deal with a headache in the morning. So he stuck with his drink and standing off in the corner.

Joe was standing there too, though his expression was far more somber than Ben’s. The American wore his heart on his sleeve and while it was a stupid thing, he commended Joe for even showing up.

Lucy was a natural beauty, that wasn’t hard to see. She had the personality of an angel and the way she and Joe would get along was just electric. She and Rami belonged together, but there was no surprise in seeing how utterly shattered Joe was once they tied the knot.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” Ben asked him, deciding to the kind thin and remove the poor bastard from the event. They hadn’t even served cake yet and they were literally dressed to the nines, but that didn’t matter.

Joe agreed and they went out to the back of the venue. It was closed off. No other guest would dare leave but neither seemed to care. They ate together and drank, sulking in their sorrows.

“I’m happy for them,” Joe confessed.

And Ben believed him. Lifting his hand, he placed it on Joe’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “She’s a great girl. But there are a lot of great girls in LA.” He reassured him.

Joe turned his head to face him, a look of confusion sprayed across his face. “Okay?” He asked bluntly.

“Loving another man’s girl . . . it’s hard, I take it. You will be all right, mate.”

Joe moved slowly then, his brow arching. After a long moment, it seemed the words and their meaning finally clicked. Suddenly, he began laughing. It was humorous, but also bitter. Lifeless really.

“I don’t . . . not Lucy. It’s not that.” Joe told him. “It’s not Her.” He added carefully.

Ben, utterly stumped for a moment, blinked at his words. Clearing his throat, he adjusted his sitting. It was a new world and California brought on several new things. Not like gay people didn’t exist to Ben. For fuck sake, he was a male model, he had met dozens of them, but that didn’t mean he could just assume who felt what for which person.

“Well, . . . loving a woman’s guy isn’t very easy either?” He offered helplessly.

Joe scoffed, pushing off the bench they had been occupying. He placed his right hand on his lip as he swiftly began to pace to and through. “Not him either.” He expressed sharply. “It’s just . . . all this!”

“This?”

“Allen is married. Gwilym is off living his room in Europe. Rami — in two years from now, he will be an Oscar-nominated actor — married to a gorgeous model who will probably be pregnant with their first child. And me? I can’t get a single studio to look at my script. Not one.”

“Ah.”

“I’m not jealous,” Joe swore. Both hands on his hips, his head pointed down. “I’m just tired of waiting for it to be my turn, you know?”

Ben bobbed his head, his hand tightening over his bottle. He understood exactly what Joe felt. He knew he should have been grateful for the chances he had been given at this point, but that didn’t change the fact that he longed for more. To be more than just the pretty face.

For more scripts where he played somebody other than the hot stud or objection of someone's affections. He wanted a script with meaning, with depth.

Standing to his feet, he crossed a few yards where Joe was standing and sulking and placed his hands on his shoulder’s. “You are a good writer.” He told him, looking at him directly in the eye. “And you’re going to make an amazing film one day. You — Joe Mazzello — will be the Oscar-nominated person. Writer. Director. Whichever.”

Joe laughed again, turning his head away. Ben shook his shoulders, making him look his way. “Laugh all you want, but it’s true. You will do great things, Joe.”

There was a quiet moment between them. Their eyes locked and a feeling of excitement mixed with fantasy-filled the air. Ben had never thought of himself very highly, despite the things people had said. Yet he refused to believe that Joe was anything less than amazing.

They weren’t the best of friends, but Ben believed in him, the same way he believed in Rami and Allen and Gwilym and even Lucy. He knew his friends were talented and he downright refused to allow one of them to think less of themselves.

Even if he couldn’t think highly of himself.

“And you, Ben Hardy,” Joe replied back, his hands lifting up to cup his face. He held him still, his head tilted forward so their foreheads were touching. It was an intimate gesture, one Ben had never expected from any of his friends. “You are going be one hell of a movie star,”

That got Ben laughing. A kind, playful chuckle, escaping his lips. Joe mimicked the sound until they were both standing there, holding onto one another, smiling and laughing at their respected statements.

It was a ridiculous sight, Ben was sure of it. Two grown them, wrapping up in one another. The only thing that could make it wilder was if they closed the gap between them, which is exactly what Joe did.

In an instant, their smiles were gone, wiped away when Joe pressed his lips to Ben’s. It wasn’t excessively wild or spontaneous, but it caught Ben off regardless. He remained still, his eyes shut as Joe’s thumb ran across his cheek gently.

When Joe pulled away, Ben opened his eyes, finding the other man staring back at him. His expression was anxious as he waited for Ben to make a move. There were only two expected of him. To push him away or assault him for daring to make such an advance towards him. Or two, accept what happened and move on from it.

Ben chose the latter, closing the gap once again so they could make the proper adjustments. Ben’s hand slid around the back of Joe’s neck, adjusting him so his head was slightly tilted upwards. Joe’s hands made their way skyward and meshed into Ben’s blond hair.

Ben’s second hand traveled down and bunched at the back of Joe’s suit jacket. He pulled him in tightly, their bodies pressed together with only their suits keeping them apart.

When they pulled apart, they were smiling again. Foolishly so. Giddy even. Joe stepped away, licking his lips as he looked out towards the night sky. “I um. I gotta get to my room.” He gestured toward the hotel they were standing in front of.

Ben bobbed his head and watched him go. He stayed outside a moment longer before heading inside as well. He booked a room for no real reason. He had a loft to get home to, but this was where his friends were. Rami and Gwilym and Allen and Joe. They were all at the hotel to celebrate a wonderful event. So he was there too.

Shortly after returning to his room, Ben had a knock on the door. Joe was standing there in front of him. Gone was his jacket and his shirt had a few buttons undone. Like he had started to undress but stopped halfway through.

“I um. I don’t actually have anything witty or even sexy to say as to why I’m here.” He confessed to Ben.

The blond watched him, moving to lean against the opening of the door. “Aren’t you a writer?” He commented.

Ben rolled his eyes, his shoulders falling as he let out a heavy sigh. “Oh shut up!” He muttered before pushing him inside the room, their lips falling together once more.

Ben had never been with another man before, but from what he gathered, it was more or less the same as being with a woman the physical part. There was sitting and touching. Whispers of sweet words and harsh curses.

He didn’t have lube and figured spit would be fine. It wasn’t, but Joe knew that. He came prepared. A tiny, travel sized bottle fell from his pocket along with a condom. Ben had his own, just in case. Always better to be prepared and whatnot.

There was no thinking or worrying. Just kisses and caresses and lots of fucking. He topped, though that was Joe’s decision. He found a rhythm that fit them both, with his hips thrusting into Joe’s while Joe’s hand work on his own throbbing member. Eventually, he found himself wanting more and he pushed Joe’s hand away and worked on him the same way he would work on himself.

He felt bad for whoever cleaned the sheets and made a mental note to leave a decent tip.

When the finished, he was spent and content. Joe didn’t leave when it was finished and Ben found that he didn’t want him to. They sat together, wrapped up in the scratchy hotel blanket, their heads resting on the barely fluffed pillows.

How the bloody fuck was this a five-star hotel?

They fell asleep together, nestled closely until morning. Ben left first, having had made plans with Gwilym the following morning. He dressed and left the room. He didn’t kiss him goodbye or make him, but he tucked him in and let him sleep.

When he had breakfast with his friend, Ben didn’t tell him about what happened last night. Informing Gwilym that just mere hours ago his cock was thrusting in and out of Joe’s ass wasn’t exactly something they should be discussing over eggs and avocado toast.

When he got home, he found his phone had died and he put it on the charger. After it regained some life, he saw he had a text message from a number he didn’t know.

It didn’t take much thinking to figure out who it was from.

Brunch tomorrow.

Ben already knew he was free tomorrow and found he had no reason not to go. He didn’t have to and part of him thought about skipping it. Making an excuse but what else would he do? Just sit alone, at home. No dog or cat or goldfish to keep him company.

He agreed and Joe told him where to go. When he arrived, Joe was already there. Looking so casual and in his element. He wasn’t a gorgeous man, not like Ben himself. Average looking, but the best kind. Approachable. Ben wasn’t approachable and he knew that. Sometimes it was a blessing. Sometimes it was a curse.

“I think brunch is my favorite meal. Breakfast and lunch. You can’t lose.” Joe told him once they had settled in.

Ben just stared at him, bewildered yet oddly enchanted by his statement.

They looked through the menu, eventually settling on what they wanted. Ben shifted in his seat and didn’t say much. Joe talked mostly, about this and that. Ben found himself listening to it all, adding his own comments here and there.

It wasn’t until the check came that Ben realized what this potentially was. He froze suddenly, unsure of what to actually do. Joe must have sensed something and gave a small snort. “We can split it, you know.” He told him, waving his wallet up. “Or do you not have American currency?”

Ben shook his head, amused rather than annoyed. “Wanker.” He muttered, tossing down his own money.

They walked out together, shoulder to shoulder. Joe was still walking when they got to the corner and as they approached where Ben had parked, the blond found himself thinking of a subject he hadn’t thought of at all since their time together.

“I’m not gay.” He told Joe bluntly.

It was a strange statement to make, after having only had sex with the man just days ago, but it was truthful all the same.

The other male paused, taking in the words. And then he shrugged and continued walking. “Okay.” He told him, crossing the road carefully. Leaving Ben behind as he did.

Ben watched him go, finally snapping from his trance so he could turn the corner and go to his car.

He didn’t speak to Joe for another few days after that. Not because he didn’t want to, but for once in his life, he found himself somewhat busy. Normally he would make excuses for his schedule, but this time around he actually had things going on.

Finalizing on the loft, making sure it was in mint condition when he left. The last thing he needed was to be billed for something that he had broke without realizing it. He was going through his things, deciding what he wanted to bring back to London and what he should leave behind. He made a small box of things he wanted to give his friends, but aside from that, he was rather clueless.

He found the number in his phone, still unsaved with just three messages from it. He decided to be an old school and call the man. He came over within the hour and was absolutely baffled by the mess that Ben was living in.

He tried to explain himself, insist that he was normally a very tidy person and it was just the situation that was causing his home to be more cluttered than usual. Joe didn’t push and instead took it in stride, helping him on what he should keep and what he should donate.

“Like that Netflix special. What sparks joy, Ben? What does not spark joy?” Joe reached forward, grabbing a random item. “Joy? Happiness?”

“That's literally an apron,” Ben replied, feeling no spark towards the item.

“Do you use it often?”

Ben shook his head. “Free swag from a layout I did. Men dressed in provocative clothing.”

“How fun.” Joe tossed it to the right.

He decided anything going to the right was to be given to charity, while anything on the left got to stay. They went back and forth, finding things that sparked joy and things that did not spark joy. He came up with a few things he wanted to bring along with him, like little trinkets he had picked up while being in the states. His plan was to send them prior to him leaving and have his family hold onto them until he got settled in.

Most things that weren’t going back with him were clothing and anything too large to keep. Art pieces he bought to spice up the loft, outfits he rarely he worn. There was a small sculpture he was giving to Rami. Several books he planned on giving to Gwilym, which he will leave with Rami to give to the man when he returned from his work. He had already given Allen a small collection of random things he knew the Irish man could appreciate.

Now all that was left were the old films he had bought during his time here. Ben was an old soul, though he didn’t show it often. His agent had gifted him with a projector and a couple of hard printed movie reels. He said it was the best way to experience a film, by watching how it was originally meant to be seen.

Ben had yet to try it out, but he got himself a few different choices to watch on the makeshift screen. To be completely honest he didn’t know how to set the thing up, but Joe was more than capable. The man practically spazzed out overseeing it all and promptly dropped what he was holding so he could put it together for them.

Ben watched, amused and surprisingly charmed by how bloody giddy the man was at watching an old movie.

Joe chose Singin in the Rain. Apparently, it was one of the best musicals of all time, or so he carefully informed Ben once it was set up. Ben didn’t keep much more than beer and protein shakes in his fridge, having gotten rather used to Postmates over time, so they ordered in.

Joe paid without question, ordering their meals on Grubhub. Within half an hour, they were settled on the couch, watching the film play out in the dark. It was different, to say the least. And sometimes Ben liked different.

Joe spoke every now and then, dropping a truth bomb about how hard Debbie Reynold’s had to work while also putting up with Gene Kelly. The man was a genius, there was no denying that but he was also a hardass perfectionist.

Joe sympathized with him, believing that you can’t always be nice when it comes to art. Ben thought of all the photographers that had yelled and called him obscene names when he didn’t do the right pose or give the right look.

The movie played on and the men ate their food and drank their beer. Ben had a couple bottles of liquor he was still figuring out what to do with. He was down to three weeks and he had about six different bottles to go around. All of which were rare, expensive, and unique in their own rights. He thought about downing them in the final days he was there, but his liver quivered at the thought. And then he thought of giving them away but his wallet screamed in anguish.

When the movie ended and the food was finished and the beer was gone, the two just sat there on the couch. Ben hit the button, stopping the projector, leaving them in the dark. Neither made a move to get up and turn the lights on. Instead of choosing to embrace the shadows from the window that the moon brought in.

“Think you’ll miss LA?” Joe asked him quietly.

Ben knew it was an easy question. Of course, he’d miss it. Part of him wondered why he was even bothering to leave when London didn’t exactly offer him anything new or spectacular. He guessed it was due to not having anything here to hang onto. No steady career. All his friends were doing their own thing. Ben didn’t want to just sit by and wait for something to happen.

He would go back to London and see what was waiting for him. Wouldn’t be the first time and probably wouldn’t even be the last.

“It has its perks.” He answered, his voice heavy yet certain.

Joe turned his head, allowing their eyes to lock. Ben wasn’t lying when he said Joe was average looking, though in the low light and the shadows of the outside world coming through, he found that average was looking pretty good.

“What will you miss the most?” Joe asked.

Ben thought about it. What would he miss about this place? Maybe the weather. London could be so wet and dreary. LA had rain too, but the sun shined more often than not and there more so many trees. Ben forgot what it was like being on the beaches and watching the warm rays, sitting under a palm tree.

LA was like a dream that Ben knew was a dream, but he still didn’t want to wake from it.

“A lot of things,” He admitted, holding the man’s glance. Ben, whose arm had been wrapped around the back of the couch, lifted slowly, moving towards where Joe’s head was resting. He traced his fingers carefully along the dark locks of Joe’s hair, just barely touching.

Joe smiled, his eyes fluttering closed. “Three weeks?” He mentioned aloud.

Ben hummed. Three weeks and then he’d be gone. Who knew when he would return. Maybe a week later. Maybe never. All depended on what fate had planned for him.

“Three weeks.” Joe mimicked. “Twenty-one days.” Ben offered.

“Good number.”

Ben hummed again, moving in to close the gap between them. He didn’t remember if Joe’s lips had always been so soft, but he didn’t bother to dwell on it. Joe’s hand came up to cup his face, his thumb doing that wonderful thing it did, tracing along his skin slowly. He tasted like cheap beer and American cuisine, a strange combination for Ben to take a liking too.

They sat there in the dark, on his couch, kissing and touching like they had all the time in the world. There was no point to rush this out. Ben had nowhere to be as of right now and Joe . . . well, he was here. He could leave any time he needed to, but he didn’t. He stayed and continued their relaxed makeup session long into the night.

They had sex again, but not right away. They undressed there in the sitting room, taking the time to map one another out. Joe’s fingers ran along every hard bump and rugged ridge of Ben’s sculpted body and Ben’s lips outlined every curse and mark along Joe’s.

He had women comment on his looks a time or two. Give his unneeded compliments about how he was created by how and he was so fucking hot. Joe didn’t bother to do that. He would talk — Joe couldn’t stay quiet for long, that much was obvious, but it would never be about Ben himself.

About the moment, what they were doing. Even little things that had nothing to do with the fact that Ben’s hand was currently wrapped around his cock, pumping it rhythmically. Any normal person would find it annoying, but Ben found it endearing. He didn’t know if it was due to nerves or that was just who Joe was as a person, but he liked it.

And the only reason he brought their lips together to shut him up was that he liked that too. Joe was a good kisser. Fantastic. Ben wondered if they had been teens together in London, awkward and new to sex and such if they would have been snugging buddies. Ben wondered if he would have given him a chance back then. Back when he was young and stupid and new.

They didn’t have sex in his bed, not right away anyway. Once again Joe had shown up with a pocket-size bottle of lube, something Ben thought about questioning him for but instead chose to just hold on for dear life as Joe began to slowly ride him into oblivion. He held onto him, his fingers marking up his the skin of his back, ass, and hips.

Ben came inside him (well in the condom inside of him) and Joe finished between them both, making them both wet and sticky rather quickly. They shared a shower and while some lazy kisses were shared nothing more happened there.

Joe prepared to leave but Ben stopped him. It was late and dark. He had never been to Joe’s apartment, so he had no idea how far it was but nobody should have to drive in the middle of the night.

Ben may not be the most social person, but he never kicked a partner out when it was over. If they wanted to leave, then by God, go right ahead, but the option to stay was always there. Joe agreed and they retreated to Ben’s bedroom. Where the mattress was firm and the pillows were soft. The blanket wasn’t scratchy and he didn’t need to worry about some maid who had to clean the sheets.

The bed was decently sized and they both had enough room to lay on their own sides, but they met in the middle. Ben’s head found its way onto Joe’s chest, while Joe’s hand found its way into Ben’s, their fingers intertwined. Ben hummed softly, some song he used to sing back when he was young. There were no real lyrics. Just a nice melody. It lulled them both to sleep.

When morning came, they were still pressed together. Ben once again made the first move, though he thought it over properly. He had condoms in the draw, but no lube. It wasn’t normally something he had to worry about but found perhaps now it was time to invest.

Moving carefully through the sheets, Ben ducked underneath and found what he was looking for. They had both pulled their boxes on, just to be polite, and it was easy to see Joe’s outline through the gray cotton material. Ben had never done this before but knew what he liked for himself and used that incentive.

Pulling down the waistband, he freed Joe from his hold and got to work. One part hand, one part mouth, he went back and forth on the man, finding himself smirking against his cock when he heard Joe wake. When he pulled the sheets back, Ben looked up to him like a greedy child with his hand in the cookie jar (and not like a grown man with his mouth wrapped around the tip of a cock).

Joe cursed softly, a sound that was so strange for such a precious man, and his hand found its way to Ben’s head. He started out careful enough, petting him gently. As he began to speed up the movements, Joe began pulling at the shiny locks, tugging on him in earnest.

Joe finished within a few minutes. He pulled back slightly, allowing him to cum over his mouth and chest. Joe found himself laughing at the sight, not the least bit sorry for the mess he made. In his defense, Ben caused it after all.

Ben laughed along with him and gave the man a small kiss on the stomach before pushing up. It called for another shower and this time around, they did more than mere kisses. Under the hot spray and heavy stem, Joe pushed Ben up against the wall, kissing him deeply as he had worked on his untouched cock. A little thank you for the morning blow job.

They didn’t have sex there, but it sure felt like it. A hand job had never been so intense and Ben felt like he was seeing bloody stars when he finished. His heart was beating out of his chest and as they washed each other off, he found he didn’t want to stop touching Joe.

Ben was only slightly bitter when Joe left later that day. There was no reason to stay anymore. The loft had been properly cleaned and organized. Joe promised to help him donate everything when the time came and Ben was sure to make good on that.

When he left, Ben sat down on the couch that they had only christened hours ago and looked to his calendar.

Twenty days left and counting.

[writeyourownlifestory]

{Love Of My Life} You’ve Hurt Me

Being in the world’s greatest rock band was easy for Roger Taylor. Loving his best friend’s girl....that was hard. 

Based on the picture from above. I had this idea that Roger always had feelings about Mary but kept them to himself because of his love/friendship for Freddie. 

Wrote it as a joke for my best friends @thatspunkydwarf and @omgellenlouise who I love to torment endlessly. Ladies, enjoy! 

Can also be read here on archive! 

He used to see her around from time to time; another gorgeous face lost in the sea of people. Even pushed back behind his drum set, Roger could always spot a pretty lady in the crowd. While to some, there would be nothing overly special about her. Long blonde hair and killer style, nothing new for the times. College girls were a dime a dozen, but Roger would be damned if he didn’t find something spectacular in every girl he brought home.

He never brought her home though. Not that he didn’t try. He would wonder over after a set, making his presence known to whatever group of friends she would be talking to. Sometimes he recognized the girls, other times they were new. He would thank them for coming out, introduce himself and even sometimes Brian and Tim. She would smile along but never fall for any of his lines.

And he had plenty of lines. The very thought of having a love song written about them would make any girl weak at the knees. Not her, however. She didn’t seem impressed by his talent, both on and off stage. Countless times he had tried to flirt with her, mentioning how he had seen her around only for her to respond him a mere ‘i go to school here.’ He had tried to fight that, insisting that yeah school was school, but constantly seeing her at his shows had to mean something.

Apparently, it meant she like music and nothing more.

Roger would never pester a girl. No was no, that much he understood. The very idea of forcing anything on a girl, even his company, would be enough for his mum to come and thump him. Still. She intrigued him. It wasn’t every day a girl would come along, give him one look, and then just keep walking. Roger didn’t like a brag (that's a lie, he loved it, he lived for it) but he happened to be quite popular with the ladies around campus, so it has someone shut him down so easily…well, it had him coming back for more.

Not that he believed she was playing hard to get. Roger could tell when a woman was trying to make him work for her. It didn’t happen often, but it was the little things she did here and there as if it would enchant him into wanting to be with her.

She wasn’t like that. She liked the music and maybe in an odd way, she even liked him, but Roger quickly found he was nothing but a game to her. Someone nice to look at, but never someone to truly play with. There were plenty of other things he could do on a Saturday night, why spend it sitting around thinking about some shop girl? Roger never let it bother him.

At least not until Freddie showed up.

Freddie was so much like Roger. He was bold and brass. He knew the talent he possessed and wasn’t scared to show it. Once Tim was out, Freddie was in and John came along shortly after. They went from this little group that played pubs and uni gigs to working on a real bloody album.

And with Freddie came Mary.

They never talked about it. Sometimes Roger wondered if Mary even remembered him. It wasn’t like Smile was very forgettable but they also weren’t the only band that the school had to offer.

Maybe it just wasn’t worth bringing up. The last thing Roger needed was for Freddie to know he had to hots for Mary. He probably wouldn’t even take it seriously. Nobody ever took Roger or his relationships serious. Not even Roger.

Sometimes, in the darkness, Roger found himself wondering why. Why him? What was it about Freddie that caught Mary’s attention. Roger was, rather bluntly, everything a woman in their era could want. He was gorgeous and talented. Clever and bright. Someone to bring home to mum and dad.

Alright, maybe the last part was a stretch, but it was true in some sense.

They were a good looking group of lads, everyone could agree on that. There were some differences though. Roger and Brian were conventionally handsome. They had the hair and the style. Jawlines and perfect teeth. They had their college degrees (mostly). They had household names. They were boyish yet sexy. Every woman’s dream.

Freddie and John weren’t exactly ugly but sometimes it just made sense why some women would throw themselves at the drummer and lead guitarist. They had their fans, of course. There were always women out there so sought off the less than perfect looking person.

It wasn’t a judgment call, not in the least, just facts. Who would they be without their talents, of course? A dentist? A designer? An astrophysicist? And whatever John wanted to do.

Electrical engineering.

Mary loved the way Freddie looked. She was partially his inspiration for some of his chosen outfits. She would help him with his makeup and his flair.

Mary came with them nearly everywhere, not that any of the members minded. For a while, it seemed as though she and Freddie were tied at the hip. Roger wasn’t lying when he said she had the face worth writing a song about.

Love of My Life was a hit. How could it not be?

A beautiful song was written about a beautiful woman.

Mary was more than beautiful, however. And Roger, well he learned that the hard way. There would be nights when they would be talking. Wasn’t like they ignored each other or anything like that. They were friends, so to speak. Roger had never been friends with a woman before. He had lady friends he would bring on tour with him or other women he’d pick up while on tour, but never an actual female friend that he talked to about things that didn’t regard the music.

Mary was smart. Incredibly so. She also had her own special touch for design. Roger wondered if that was one of the things Mary and Freddie were in one another. Their eye for fashion.

Roger liked to believe he was a snappy dresser. Sometimes Deacy would call him out for something he’d wear, or Brian or even Freddie. Mary was always there to comment on it. Make sense of his choice and show the others that Freddie wasn’t the only icon in the group.

Sometimes she’d even join in on the teasing. Ever since he wrote I’m In Love With My Car, he had been utter shit on by the band. He wasn’t proud of how he reacted when it first went down, but he liked to believe they grew up since then. He accepted the teasing as it came, but when Mary did it, it felt different. There was no cruelty in her tone. No common reminder that he locked himself in a bloody cupboard over which side it was on. Just fun teasing.

Mary was also funny, and clever and kind. She was an amazing person and sometimes Roger wondered if Freddie forgot all about that.

Sometimes he would stop by her shop just to chat. He would make up a line about having to come up with an outfit for something. Queen was getting so big that a thing wasn’t even really a lie. He’d wear the outfit she chose to a party or interview or even on stage. She would make him laugh and they’d tell jokes. It was fun. He liked it.

He liked her, but that was a different story.

There would be times when they were alone. Gone were the quips and the comments. Flirting with Mary would be a sin now as she belonged with Freddie. Every single time she’d enter a room, the ring would flash as a blinding reminder who she chose.

As if he was ever really a choice.

Mary would corner him and question him about their tour. If Freddie was having fun. Like a child on holiday. Or if he was happy. Could he be faking the smiles and cheers? It seemed Mary believed so. Sometimes, when it was dark and no one was around, she would ask him if he ever met someone on tour.

Roger wasn’t perfect. He had cheated on girls before. Even Brian wasn’t blameless when it came to courting multiple women. They were romantics in a romantic sense, but at the end of the day, they were still men with needs.

Not everybody could be Deacy, stick with one person and be happy with it.

Roger didn’t have an answer for her. Never had he seen Freddie out and about with a fan. He didn’t have the time for such things. He was always business. Sometimes he’d be a real shit, but at the end of the day, this was his life and he wasn’t going to mess it up for something stupid like an affair. At least not publicly.

Paul, the little prick, existed, but even Roger couldn’t say for sure if the two were doing anything behind closed doors.

So Roger did what any best friend and family member would do and reassured Mary what Freddie loved her. It wasn’t a lie and never would be.

There was a glimmer in Mary’s eyes when he said it. A shimmer of truth that she knew was real even if it didn’t answer her question.

Seeing her in pain utterly destroyed the drummer and for a short moment, Roger Taylor hated his best friend and cursed the name, Freddie Mercury. The man who thought he was a legend and was untouchable. The man who was so careless about everybody else feelings but his own.

They were bitter thoughts and Roger felt terrible for feeling them, but it was all the same in the end.

Eventually, the truth had to come out, however. Freddie, well he couldn’t stay hiding forever. He had to be true to himself, and to the band, and to his fans, and to Mary. His life and his career depended on it.

The engagement was off and while Mary still wore the ring, she stopped coming around. Roger still saw her from time to time. She lived next door to Freddie after all.

Sometimes Roger would pop over to see how she was doing. Freddie was having one of his moments and while Brian and Deacy always knew how to handle it, Roger learned sometimes it was better to bow out and let him have his way.

They would talk about life and how they were each doing. She was going on dates and Roger was happy for her. He was married by this point and honest and true, he did love Dominique. Was he loyal to her? No, but Roger wasn’t loyal to himself. Only to the band.

His one true love, apparently.

She took interest in his son, his pride and joy. To Rufus, she was Aunt Mary. Maybe someday when he gets older, Roger would tell him how in the darkness of nights, he would think about her and how there could have been the slimmest of chances that she would have been his mum.

It was ridiculous and he knew that, but it was still thought all the same. She found a new guy named David. He was a bit boring and he didn’t dress well at all. Freddie hated talking about it and so did Roger. They both thought she deserved better.

Roger and Freddie thought Mary deserved the whole fucking world twice over but neither of them was any good at giving it to her.

Eventually, life caught up with them and it wasn’t very pretty. Fights were had and for a short while, friendships were lost. When Freddie went out on his own and Paul refused to let him answer the bloody phone, Mary got desperate.

She called Roger, begging him to seek Freddie out, but he refused.

Maybe he was bitter over losing the only family he truly loved?

Maybe he was bitter over Freddie winning the only women he could never have?

Part of Roger begged for him to snap. To snap and tell Mary everything he has always longed to tell her. How beautiful she was to him when she would sit on the edge of the stage and watch them perform. How funny she was, making him laugh so effortlessly. How her voice was one of the most beautiful sounds and no song would ever be worthy of her.

No amount of words in the English language could ever fully capture how much his heart truly felt for her.

And how Freddie fucking Mercury never deserved her and never would.

But he didn’t snap. Instead, Roger said Freddie could fuck off with the wind and she took care of things on his own.

They forgave each other, as expected.

Freddie came back and the band got back together. Roger understood over time why Freddie did what he did. Why he had to get away.

When Freddie told them what he was dealing with, Roger did cry. Alone in his room, angry tears slipped down his face. He was angry and ashamed for feeling the way he did, though it made no difference that the feelings were true.

When they performed at Live Aid together, they did it as a family. As a unit.

And when Mary was off to the side. Blushing and bashful and happy, with her slowly swelling belly and her lover by her side, Roger was happy.

Not for him, but for her.

Mary Austin was the women Roger would never have, the women who always had men make excuses for her. And here she was, with her love and her growing babe, watching the man who would always be the love of her life.

Maybe it was a sad sight, but Roger didn’t want to think so.

And when their eyes locked on the stage and Mary was smiling at him, for a small moment, Roger believed that the love Mary shared wasn’t just for Freddie and wasn’t just for friendship, but for him as well.

It was a passing thought, but it made him happy none the less.

Regardless, they’d always have their music. They’d always have their fans.

And Roger Taylor would always have Queen.