cupidsbow (cupidsbow) wrote,

Slash fic: flight

I enjoyed writing this so much, even though it took a lot of work. There's something so satisfying about finishing a story that you feel, in your secret heart, that you've *nailed*.

Title: flight
Author: cupidsbow
Fandom: Afflection
Pairing: Matt Damon/Ben Affleck
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Total and utter fiction.
Notes: For the damonaffleck Quick and Dirty Challenge.



The trouble with a
friend you've had almost as long
as life is boredom:

there's nothing new, just
familiarity and
the same old same old;

maybe even a
kind of slow-motion drifting
that's neither apart

nor together, but
somehow both at the same time.
And maybe that's why

Matt doesn't get how
far their ties have unravelled
until that queer day

he sees Ben's face in
a magazine, and it's not
his Ben anymore.

Instead, it's some smug
stranger: beautiful in a
way Ben never was,

shockingly so, but
also a Ben who is so
blatant, so knowing,

and so unrepentantly
sexual. It makes
something inside Matt clench tight...

like he's been running flat out,
for the last thirty-five years.


Matt's forgotten the
combination for his high
school locker--gone--like

the exact colour
of his first girlfriend's eyes; or
the name of that guy

he fucked against a
wall at a party in Rome;
his tenth birthday cake--

was it a blue ghost?
or a red jeep?--it's lost to
the past, along with

the first time he passed
for eighteen, at some dive in
Boston. It's all gone.

But without even
trying, Matt can remember
Ben's scent (sandalwood);

the swirl pattern of
the hair on Ben's chest; how Ben
holds his smokes (sideways);

the soft curve of Ben's
mouth when he's kissing someone;
Ben's best poker face.

Given the facts, Matt really
shouldn't be so shocked
to find he's in lust with Ben...

but it feels like he's high on
something illegal and dear.


Matt's in fast-forward:
he pounds on the door so hard
it rattles, pushes

in past the P.A.,
and strides through the house. He finds
Ben beside the pool,

pulling faces at
the speaker-phone. Matt leaps a
chaise, says, "He'll call back,"

and stabs at the Off
button. As the P.A. yells
things, dial tone washes

beneath Ben's startled,
"What's wrong?" and Matt reaches up,
fisting Ben's hair tight,

reeling him in, and
then Matt's kissing him and the
world goes soft and still.

When things un-pause, Ben's
hands are bruising Matt's biceps,
a glut of unspoken

words filling their joined
mouths. Matt doesn't want to hear
them, but a lifetime

of friendship buys the right to
speak hard truths, so Matt
reluctantly stops kissing...

and Ben looks just the way Matt
feels: upside down, inside out.


Ben says nothing... stays
pressed close, breathing hard, taking
in Matt's expression.

There's a hush. Like the
numb before pain. Then, without
turning, Ben says to

the P.A., "Go home, Kris,"
while his thumb traces a line
of fire down Matt's jaw.

Ben leans in and breathes Matt's scent.
Matt shivers: undone.

"I had this brainstorm,"
Matt says, voice uneven. Ben
nods, "So I gathered."

"Things were getting a
bit stale," Matt says, and tugs Ben's
t-shirt up and off.

Ben opens the top
button of Matt's shirt, then grabs
and rips. "I'd noticed."

At the first glance of
Ben's lips on Matt's collarbone,
Matt's hips thrust forward.

"I want to fuck you," Matt says.
Ben bites the junction
of neck and shoulder, and it's...

like Matt has done away with
gravity and learned to fly.


Matt's shirt-sleeve rips out;
Ben's zip wrecks open; a shoe
falls into the pool.

They back and fall, chaise
soft beneath Matt's knees; Ben
is hard and begging.

"Come on!" Ben pushes
his cock into Matt's mouth and
makes a sound of joy.

Matt sucks and gropes for
his sachet of lube: slicking his
fingers, slicking Ben.

Images sear him:
Ben panting with pain; light from
the pool fracturing

Ben's skin; his own cock's
thrust/pause/thrust... 'til thought stops and
it's all sensation.

When Matt comes, it's like
he's found something he'd not known
was lost; it's so sweet.

Then Ben groans, and everything
smells hot and bitter.
The world shudders, feels all wrong...

panic coating Matt's tongue like
poison he can't swallow down.


Matt rolls off the chaise,
arm covering his eyes, not
looking at Ben's face.

"So," Ben says, at last,
"what brought that on?" and he sounds
happy, light-hearted.

No easy answer
comes to mind, even when Ben's
dangling hand pets him.

"Thought you'd never come
around to it," Ben goes on,
stroking Matt's belly.

A moment later
Ben stops. Matt can feel Ben's gaze
all along his skin.

"Are you freaking out?"
Ben asks, voice gentle. Matt nods,
heart hammering. "Yeah."

Then Ben's crushing Matt
against the paving stones; knees
holding Matt in place.

Ben kisses him: slow
and deep, and the pressure
eases in Matt's chest.

"Idiot," says Ben, smiling
his old familiar
grin, and he's Matt's Ben again...

as though he's always been Matt's,
as though Matt's always been his,

their friendship just a glossy
chrysalis for this
other, fledgling, soaring thing.

* * *
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