cupidsbow (cupidsbow) wrote,

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Shiny New Fandom--Afflection

I have succumbed.

The erotica workshop on the weekend was great fun, and it inspired me to take a tiny break from thesis fiction and write some smut.

So, what did I write? It's a haiku story, and it's in my shiny new fandom--Ben Affleck/Matt Damon slash.

BTW, I've dubbed this fandom "Afflection" (thanks go to the witty tunah for coming up with that :), because neither Damon/Affleck nor Ben/Matt roll off the tongue easily. I guess I could have called it Daffleck, or Batty, or... Men :)

Anyway, here's my first Afflection story (if you don't count the smutty little WIP I started posting last week, which I don't :). It's called, appropriately enough, "First."

You know, I think I need a new icon! *hint, hint*

Title: First
Author: cupidsbow
Pairing: Ben Affleck/Matt Damon
Rating: NC-17



The first time Ben said
"I love you," was a night they
hadn't won Oscars.

After watching the
show together on TV,
Matt turned, beautiful

in the flickering
semi-dark, and said, "We could
write another script."

Then the words had birthed
on Ben's tongue, slipped, fallen off
so effortlessy

--almost like acting--
til Matt had rubbed at tears with
the heel of his palm,

and Ben's heart was so
constant, constant, constant, that
he knew it was true.


So impossible
that Ben's lube-slick fingers were
making Matt shudder,

moan, beg, cry out to
God; so utterly beyond
hot and into heart

attack country, but
there was no stopping, because
Ben had to know, had

to be inside Matt's
skin, had to get closer. And
when Matt began to

chant, "now, now, now," it
took everything Ben had to
swap fingers for cock

and feel himself sink
deep into endless, rushing
red and black climax.


The kitchen was where
it happened; Matt pushed him back
against a cupboard,

said, "enough of this
womanising shit," and fucked
their friendship away,

claiming Ben like it
was obvious. Riveting
Ben with hard, thrusting

forever kisses.
And Ben ignited; aching
for more, more, until

Matt dropped to his knees,
yanked Ben's pants down, sucked Ben's cock
deep into his throat

and proved beyond all
doubt that womanising was
a thing of the past.


After a long day
of no progress on the script
of "Good Will Hunting,"

they had fought over
something inane, like free will
versus destiny,

and Matt had stormed off,
leaving Ben to stew over
everything for hours.

In the small of the
night he'd stopped raging; begun
to feel stupid and

then, as hours ticked by,
worried: deep, gutting fear that
Matt wouldn't be back.

Ben had fathomed then,
that Matt was much more than
destiny. Matt was

a great work partner,
the best friend he'd ever had,
constant; and Ben knew,

as Matt's key clicked home,
that all those things weren't enough;
that he wanted what

he could never have;
that he wanted to tumble
Matt into bed and

keep him there; knew he'd
stay silent if it killed him
now that Matt was back--

smiling his I'm-a-fool smile,
and hugging Ben tight--

because Ben knew, heart
deep, that of all the things he
held dear, Matt came first.
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