Every day that Dean didn't reach out increased his anxiety, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it. Ben had never felt like this before, and he couldn't explain it, but it was driving him crazy. Dean monopolized his thoughts if he let them drift, and even sometimes when he didn't.
A week went by before Dean contacted him, and it wasn't what he'd been hoping for. Instead of the text about dinner plans that he wanted, Dean sent him an image of his desk. Yoda and Darth Vader were fighting again, but this time Darth Vader was lying down, Yoda standing over him in victory. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't respond, though he typed out several texts and deleted them.
All that night he kept looking at Dean's text, wondering what it could mean, other than to be frustrating. He had to stop looking at it. He closed his text window and opened a browser, then began a voyage through his favorite porn sites. Nothing seemed interesting tonight. Blond chicks getting pounded into various furniture. Two girls with one guy. A million boring blowjobs, all to either terrible elevator music or terrible techno. More blond girls getting pounded, occasionally brunettes.
A woman in a black dom outfit, poured-on black leather pants and a matching corset, towered over a man, his head in a sack, tied to a workhorse. He couldn't have said why he'd clicked on the link, violence wasn't his thing. It played automatically when it opened in the new window. He went to close it, but the camera zoomed into the man's body and he froze up. The dom moved into the scene, but only her torso was visible.
Both he and the man jumped the first time her crop came down on the man's ass, the sound sharp and crisp. The camera was close enough to show him the red line it left across the man's rump. She brought the crop down again, and was soon beating out a strict cadence across his cheeks. The redder the man's ass grew, the louder his moans were. Still, the dom continued her swift, even strikes. The man twitched and the dom laughed.
His loins ached, and he was legitimately surprised at how aroused he was. It was shameful, and he felt his face burn, but he couldn't look away as the dom continued to subdue the man tied to the workhorse. His hand found his cock, and even though he was embarrassed, it didn't stop him from pulling it out.
He stroked it slowly, unable to look away. Her hits were landing harder now, the man was writhing under her skillful strikes. "Have you had enough punishment?" the dominatrix asked the man.
"No, mistress," he moaned. Ben moaned, too.
"Good," the woman purred. "Ask for more."
"P-p-please, Mistress," the man moaned, sounding winded. Ben couldn't tell if it sounded like the man was crying or not. "Please punish me more."
The woman fingered her crop suggestively. "You are such a good boy," she purred, running her hands over his blazing cheeks. He moaned.
The video ended, and Ben found himself restless. He wanted to know how it ended, wanted to know how much punishment the man ended up receiving. He realized what he was thinking, and the shame was too much to bear. He backed out of the video and put on a blowjob video, a girl with sandy brown hair.
The woman looked up at the camera, sucking a well-endowed penis into her mouth. She sucked it in, then released it, giggling vapidly. Ben watched her suck the dick for another few seconds, but it wasn't interesting. Disgusted with himself, he threw his phone onto his nightstand, then turned out the light.
His cock ached, and seemed hotter and harder than usual. As he stroked himself he thought about the woman giving the blowjob he'd just watched, but it wasn't doing anything for him. His traitorous mind replayed the video, and his rebel cock throbbed in his hand. He pushed the thought away, imagining himself getting blown by a model he'd seen in a magazine at the dentist's office, but her image was hazy in his mind.
His mind drifted back to the dominatrix video again, except he was the one getting punished. He couldn't see anything, could only hear the crack of the crop against his ass and the ghosting fingers between each series of smacks. He gave up trying to push it away, he was too close to coming to care. His hand sped up as the scene played on in his head.
"Do you want me to punish you?" Dean asked in his fantasy, and then his cum was shooting from him in ropy strands, his hips lifting off of the bed and his toes curling. His orgasm was more intense than anything he'd had in ages, and it left him feeling lightheaded.
When he came back down and realized what he'd done, and who he'd gotten off to, shame filled him. He wasn't used to feeling like this, he'd never had issues before, but now he felt ashamed and confused.
Dean's voice continued to haunt him until he fell asleep, half-hard again.
Dean sent him another text the next day. This time it was a Deadpool Funko Pop dressed as Bob Ross. It made him think of the art on Dean's wall, and he had a sudden urge to feel the paint under his fingers. He replied this time, and before thinking it through.
'Where did you get the painting on your wall?'
Dean's reply was another picture, this time of an actual Bob Ross figurine.
Frustrated, Ben put his phone away and tried to focus on his work, but the urge to see Dean's painting again, and the echo of Dean from his fantasy's words continued to distract him. He couldn't concentrate, he had to do something. So, naturally, he texted Dean back.
'Bob Ross painted it?'
'LOL' was Dean's response.
He wanted to storm over to Dean's side of the building and talk to him, to demand that Dean stop tormenting him and go to dinner with him already, then realized exactly how gay it sounded. He sighed, Dean's texts still on his screen.
"You wanna get some lunch?" Justin asked him. He jerked around, startled, instantly hiding his phone from sight.
"Shit, Jus, you scared me."
Justin shrugged. "You looked like you needed a break, and it's kinda lunchtime. Did you pack, or do you wanna go out?"
"I need some fresh air," Ben decided. "Let's go to Sam's Deli."
Justin nodded. "Sure. Let's go grab Hugh."
Ben was surprised to find he didn't want to see Hugh, but he didn't say anything. They went for sandwiches.
"Guess who I saw yesterday," Hugh announced scandalously, nibbling his pickle slice.
"My mom?" Justin asked with a snort. "She said your dick's too small to please any woman, by the way."
"That's only cause she's so fat that even my twelve inch woodie couldn't get inside. No, tard, I saw Parker Brown," Hugh said, leaning in closer. "Saw him at the brewery that just opened up over on Watkins Avenue."
"Who?" Ben asked. He'd finished his sandwich already. "Parker Brown?"
Justin elbowed him as he crumpled his wax paper into a ball. "Parker Brown. You remember, the guy who, ah, you know. With Dicksucker Dean." Justin made a blowjob motion, accenting it with his tongue pressing his cheek out in time to his hand jerks.
"Oh," Ben said, his belly tightening. It shouldn't make him uncomfortable, he'd never felt like that before, but now it filled him with the sudden urge to be back at his desk. He flicked the screen of his phone and it came to life, Dean's text window front and center. He shut the screen off quickly, then pocketed his phone just so he didn't do it again.
"Just 'oh'?" Hugh said. "He was with his wife, so they musta worked things out. Poor Dean, trying to turn people gay. He'd fuck anything with a dick." Hugh shook his head disapprovingly.
Ben tried hard not to show annoyance on his face. Any other day, any time before he'd woken up hung-over in Dean's bed, he'd have been right in with Justin and Hugh, making fun of a man they didn't even care to know. Now Dean was a person. He was real, and this was cruel.
"You mean he'd let anything with a dick fuck him," Justin countered with a laugh. "He's definitely the guy who takes it up the ass. He's too skinny to be on top."
Ben's fingernails were pressing painfully into his palms. "Stop," he said, forcing his face into a look he hoped resembled normal. "That's old news, you should move on."
