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zepskies · 10 months

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Break Me Down - Part 14

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Stick around at the end for a special note — new SB fic dropping soon!

Word Count: 6,000 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! We return to the smut! Plus a healthy dose of fluff, angst, action, moral quandaries, and feels.

Part 14: Safe House

Jon lied in his hospital bed, frowning hard at a computer screen. His arm and collarbone were broken, along with a few ribs. He had a private room, at least, courtesy of Vought.

Stan Edgar strode in following a quick knock on the door.

“Hello, Jonathan. I meant to visit you earlier,” said Stan. Jon stared at his boss, silently simmering. On his laptop played footage of the destruction wrought on the Lower West Side by a major car chase.

“How are you feeling?” Stan asked.

“Why was Black Noir set loose on my wife and daughters?” he seethed through gritted teeth. Damn how the effort of keeping still was almost as painful as moving.

“Ex-wife, isn’t it?” Stan said, raising a brow.

Jon was not amused.

“I gave the order, yes,” Stan acknowledged. “On your eldest daughter.”

Jon was incensed. If he could get out of this bed, he’d very well contemplate strangling the other man. Stan seemed to know it, but considering his personal security guards were standing near the back wall of the hospital room, he also didn’t look worried.

“Why?” Jon asked, genuinely surprised and dismayed. “She’s not a threat.”

“Soldier Boy kept her for a reason,” Stan pointed out. “She brought him to our doorstep, with the intention of helping him assassinate me…eliminating her was a calculated risk.”

Jon shook his head.

“But since Noir has failed, we will have to prepare accordingly,” Stan said.

Jon glared back at him. “You think I’m going to help you?”

“I think you have a job to do,” Stan returned. “It didn’t stop you from breaking your daughter’s ribs, and very nearly her neck.”

Jon faltered, a brief regret weighing his frown.

“That wasn’t…that was to teach her a lesson.”

Perhaps he’d gone a bit too far, but he’d only been trying to subdue you. To get you to listen to him. But you’d always been stubborn.

Stan broke him from his thoughts.

“I am not being attacked, Jon,” he said. “We are. Your daughter is a part of it.”

“Marie and Luisa are not. Leave them out of this!”

Stan merely rose a brow. He folded his hands behind his back and withdrew. He was flanked by his bodyguards as he left the room.

“Rest up, Jonathan,” he said. “I’ll need you soon enough.”

The master bed was actually pretty comfortable, as you and Ben found out.

You clung onto his shoulders after both of you were spent. You panted for breath as he held you to him with his solid arms wrapped around your waist. You two were both kneeling, technically, in the middle of the bed.

Your thighs were molded to his hips, and he was still buried deep inside you. But as of yet, you had no reason to move. You were enjoying your vantage point above him, watching him collect himself with closed eyes.

The simple truth of it was, you’d missed him.

Even when he was being a stubborn pain in the ass, you hated every moment you had to watch him caged, watching him start to think he may never get out.

Your hands slid around to his back. It allowed you to hold him in more of an embrace as you caught your breath.

When his eyes opened, you met him with a smile. You slipped your fingers through his sweaty hair. Holding your free hand at the nape of his neck, you pressed your lips above his brow. Then another kiss to his scratchy cheek. His beard had gotten overgrown.

“You need a trim,” you said, letting out a breathy laugh. You kissed his cheek again. Slow, and with purpose.

Ben let out a sigh through his nose. His eyes closed again at your gentler kisses, your touch. Maybe he reveled in this—being able to hold you back. It felt right.

If he was honest with himself (and this time, he was), you were somehow able to ease the frayed edges of his mind. Edges that had been starting to unravel in that cell.

And there were other things too, that he was beginning to realize, but not yet willing to cement in his mind.

So you reluctantly detangled from one another, but remained in bed. The problem was, for whatever closeness you two had just shared…you weren’t quite sure what to do now.

You hesitated to ask him just what the two of you were doing. Mostly because you didn’t want to ruin whatever this was by labeling it.

So instead, you relaxed against his chest and pulled the blankets over you both. Ben didn’t just tolerate it; he settled a heavy arm across your lower back and over your hip. It made you smile.

“Ben…what do you want from the rest of your life?” you asked.

You didn’t know what possessed you to ask, but you had to wonder what the end goal was for him, after the issue of Vought was settled. After he presumably kept his end of the deal and retired to South America, or Europe, or wherever he wanted to go, really.

His hand came up to pet your hair. “I just got some of it.”

You huffed a laugh, hiding your face into his chest for a moment. You couldn’t see it, but Ben grinned at how easy it was to embarrass you, for how wanton he knew you could be.

“Come on, seriously,” you said.

“Seriously?” he teased.

“Yes,” you said, despite a giggle.

He let out something of a sigh. Meanwhile, his hand drew lazy patterns up and down your naked back.

“I always thought I had time,” he confessed. “To settle down. Have a family…I actually thought it would be Tess.”

That thought was accompanied by a bitter chuckle. Your brows furrowed in question.

“Crimson Countess,” he explained.

“Ah.” You nodded and rested a hand across his lower abs, playing with the thin trail of hair there that led south. He found it strangely soothing, if a hint arousing.

“Was it difficult killing Homelander?” you asked.

Ben scoffed. “Just chock full of questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You sat up and propped an elbow on his shoulder, so he had to look at you.

“Not physically. Emotionally,” you said. God forbid you ask him about his man feelings, but you really were curious.

Ben eyed you with a raised brow.

“I know he wasn’t really your son,” you said. “He was a raging psychopath and needed to go down, but was there a part of you that…was it hard for you?”

Ben’s mood dimmed as his lips pulled into a frown. “He was a true disappointment. Barely a man.”

That didn’t quite answer your question, but you thought you could read some of his true feelings on the matter. You didn’t think he regretted killing Homelander. But maybe he mourned the connection he could’ve had with a son. From what he’d said about Crimson Countess, you knew he wanted a real family.

That softened you. You brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes with delicate fingers.

“He was told he was a god his entire life. That’s what happens,” you said.

Ben scoffed at that, his gaze cutting away from you. You didn’t know what that meant exactly.

“And you?” he asked, turning back to you. “What do you want from all this?”

“Besides my family safe?” you retorted. But then, you considered his words. “I don’t know. I thought I knew who I was before I met you. Now I’m realizing that I can’t control anything in my life.”

Ben raised your chin, and therefore your face up to him.

“You can control you. You’ve been doing that since I met you.” His thumb swiped against your lower lip. “Especially this fucking mouth.”

You smiled. “But you like that though.”

His lips pulled at amusement, huffing in response.

“Come on,” you teased. You moved, slipping a leg over to straddle his lap. You delved into his hair with both hands, and he let you tug his head back as he now looked up at you.

“Admit it,” you said cheekily. “You like my mouth. Talking back to you…on you…and getting you off.”

All while you spoke, you brushed your lips across his cheek, down his jawline, pressed a nipping kiss along his neck, below his ear. Then you returned to his lips. But you also ground down into his lap, feeling his rising length brush against your wet folds.

He groaned deep as you plied him the way you’d learned to do. And your tongue slipped into his mouth with your next kiss. He gripped your hips tight, wordlessly urging you to lower down into his lap and onto his waiting cock. But you resisted.

“Say it,” you demanded.

When he merely smirked, denying you control, you lowered a hand to take a firm hold of his cock. He let out a low hum of pleasure as you pumped him a couple of times, then held him poised at your entrance.

“I’ll give you what you want,” you said, brushing his lips. “But first, tell me how much you missed this.”

His next breath came out sharp as you squeezed his cock in your hand. You knew you’d find his fingerprints on your hips and ass in the morning, but you didn’t care. Because you were about to fucking win.

“Fine,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Maybe I’ve been craving this, more than a fix. More than goddamn sleep.”

Ben’s eyes were dark with lust, and he thumbed at your lower lip.

“And this fucking mouth. Gets you into all kinds of trouble, baby doll.”

You smirked and finally sunk on top of him. His cock slid past your folds and bottomed out inside of you, making you shudder and Ben groan in relief.

You did exactly as you promised. With your hands braced on his shoulders, you moved over him nice and slow.

Well, nice for you. Torturous for him.

He cast his head back to the headboard as he fought not to make you move.

“You’re fuckin’ killing me here,” he growled.

Your mouth curved into a grin.

“Alert the media,” you said. “We’ve got the ultimate weapon against Soldier Boy: a slow ride on his dick.”

Ben’s rich laugh rumbled out, crinkling his eyes at the corners and making you smile. You felt the impact of his laughter deep inside you, which wasn’t unpleasant. But you had mercy on him and finally picked up the pace. He grabbed a fistful of your hair for leverage while your lovely tits bounced in his face.

Then his fingers slid between you, parting your folds to rub at your clit. It made your hips stutter as you let out a mangled moan. Your inner walls started to tighten around him, earning you another muttered curse. He couldn’t help but thrust up inside you, mostly in time with your movements.

But he got impatient.

He grabbed your hips tighter and flipped you over, with your thighs wrapped around his hips.

“The moment I saw you, I knew I’d have you,” he gritted out. “Fuck, just like this.”

You gasped as he pounded deeper inside you. You felt like the bed was going to swallow you up. But you pressed your heels into his lower back and held on for the rest of the ride.

Within moments, Ben spilled into you so hard and fast that it took both of you by surprise. It felt hot and tingling inside you, making you shudder again.

Thank God for IUDs, you thought.

And when his fingers found your clit again in time with his last wild thrusts, it was enough to tumble you over along with him.

Afterwards, Ben braced himself on the headboard as a line of sweat dripped down the column of his neck. You grabbed onto his free hand while you caught your breath. His lips tugged at a smirk, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“And we’re not done,” he said. “Not by a long shot.”

Ben woke to the annoying sound of coffee percolating. A normal man would have slept right through it, but thanks to his sensitive ears, he was up at…

Christ, it’s 11 in the morning. He noted the digital clock on the nightstand and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He actually slept all night. And all morning.

Up until recently, that had been impossible.

He heard puttering in the kitchen, knew it was you because of your soft humming. It drew a smile to his face without him realizing.

He climbed out of bed, showered, shaved and trimmed off the wilder parts of his beard, and dressed casually with the clothing he found in the closet. Wasn’t a perfect fit, but it would do for now.

This house was also not what he was used to. It was small, and too “suburban dad” for his taste. But he guessed it was better than an underground glass prison cell.

He ventured into the kitchen, where the smell of good food made his mouth water, and the sight of you frying bacon (trying not to get burned by the sparking grease) deepened his grin.

All you wore was his discarded shirt from yesterday, presumably over your underwear as it hung around your thighs, and a pair of slippers you must’ve found in the closet.

Maybe you heard him coming, because you glanced back over your shoulder and met him with a smile. But it soon edged into a more serious look as you turned and leveled him with your spatula.

“Okay. I don’t want any smartass remarks,” you warned. “I did make breakfast, because I’m a nice person, but don’t expect this for every meal.”

Ben raised a wry brow.

“Morning to you too,” he drawled. He rested a hand on your lower back as he looked over your shoulder, surveying the plate of cooling bacon, the pan of scrambled eggs, and the toast ready to be buttered on the counter, next to a jar of strawberry jam. “Looks good.”

You watched him steal a piece of bacon, your lips quirking.

“Is that a thank you?” you asked.

He purposefully bit into the bacon instead of answering. You gave him a narrowed look, but you were still amused.

“Even a child can say please and thank you,” you pointed out.

Ben turned to you then and hooked an arm around your waist, suddenly pulling you tight against him.

“All right. How about this?” he replied. His head bowed and kissed you thoroughly. He tasted coffee and jam on your tongue. A surprised moan caught in your throat, and you clung to his arms on instinct. Meanwhile, free hand went to your hip, bunching the material of the stolen shirt.

When he broke from you, he looked down on your somewhat dazed expression and had to temper his smile. He gave you a nice slap on the ass, shocking a yelp out of you.

You shot him a dry look.

“Is that please, or thank you?” you teased.

Ben rolled his eyes and kissed you again, trapping you against the counter this time. But he didn’t allow himself to get carried away (yet). He swept back strands of your hair and let his fingers skim across your cheek, feeling your skin warming under his touch.

He finally settled on brushing his thumb across your bottom lip, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you,” he said.

It had a deeper meaning, you realized from the gravity of his gaze.

“That fucking bitch probably wanted to put me on ice the second they brought me in,” he said.

You could only assume he meant Grace.

“You’re probably the reason that didn’t happen,” he continued. “And that I’m here now.”

Emotion threatened to choke you, beginning to sting your eyes. You cleared your throat and soothed a hand along his forearm.

“You made the deal,” you pointed out. Ben shook his head.

“You were right. I want the fucking target off my back, once and for all,” he said. He touched where a smattering of bruises from the car accident colored your temple and part of your cheek with fading purple and yellow.

“But I’m getting it off you too," he said gruffly. "You want a deal? Here it is: no one’s fucking touching you again as long as I’m around.”

Your breath hitched as your heart began to hammer in your chest. You wanted to ask what that meant. You wanted to ask if, maybe, he wanted to be with you. If he…

But you lost your nerve.

“The eggs are gonna get cold,” you said in a coarse whisper.

Ben smirked.

“That’s really what you’re fucking worried about?” he asked, shortly before he cut off your would-be reply with a heated kiss.

Your arms twined around his neck, almost of their own volition. He already had you by the waist, and from there he hefted you effortlessly onto a small clean portion of counter space in the kitchen. His hands burned up your thighs, underneath the overlarge shirt. When he encountered nothing but bare ass, his lips curved against yours.

“What a naughty girl. You’re out here cooking with no fucking panties on?”

It was your turn to smirk as you held a hand to his cheek. He did in fact trim the beard.

“You like that, don’t you?” you remarked.

His dark chuckle was your answer as he spread your thighs wider. Your breath came out a bit shakier as his hand went smoothly up the inside of your thigh and slipped between your folds.

“Already wet for me, I see,” he said. His smirk only grew as you whined with pleasure at the invasion of his fingers. First just teasing inside your entrance, working you up. Your grip on his neck tightened, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Ben…”

“How many fucking times I gotta tell you to be patient?”

“Ugh.” You dropped your forehead into the crook of his neck. “You are the worst.”

His resulting chuckle reverberated in your chest and tingled down into your lower belly. Combined with his teasing, it made your inner walls tighten on nothing from anticipation…until two of his fingers suddenly sunk deep into your heat. You cried out into his ear in surprise.

“Ben,” you breathed, but it ended on a moan as he finally began to give you what you wanted. His thumb found your clit and circled slowly while he thrust and turned his fingers inside you. You gripped at his hair, holding on tighter and tighter as your walls clenched on his hand.

“That’s it, baby doll. I gotcha,” he muttered. Though you teased a grunt out of him when you snaked a hand between you to palm at the bulge in his jeans. If he was going to give you a good morning, you’d be sure to return the favor.

He kept working on you, but with shaking hands you unzipped his pants and aimed to free him from those tight boxer briefs.

Unfortunately, your cell phone ringing halted both of your plans. It was on the kitchen counter, and it vibrated across the tile next to you.

Butcher calling…

Both of your heavy breathing accompanied the shrill sound. But when you noticed the caller ID, you gave Ben a rueful look.

He frowned in annoyance, but he withdrew from you, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before he grabbed your phone and answered it (even if it took him two or three angry tries on swiping the green button). You put it on speaker.

“What?” Ben grouched into the phone.

“Apologies for interrupting what I’m sure is a dewy morning after,” Butcher said with all due sarcasm. “We’ve got a lead on Neuman.”

You raised a brow at that. Tugging down your shirt back over your thighs, you answered, “Where is she?”

“She’s giving a speech at NYU this afternoon.”

You frowned. You knew for a fact he hadn’t run that by the whole team.

“It’s not a good idea to catch her there. Too exposed. Too many people could get caught in the crossfire,” you said.

“Her next scheduled outing is a fundraiser for the homeless. That any better?” Butcher asked with mock cheer. “At the least the college kiddos won’t be coughing up a lung because their hepatitis A’s on a flare up.”

Ben’s lips twitched at amusement, but your frown only deepened in irritation.

“You’re unsavory, you know that?” you said, rubbing at your temple. “…Fine. We’ll catch her at the college.”

“Wasn’t really up for fuckin’ debate,” Butcher replied. “We head out in two hours.”

This isn’t going to be easy, you thought.

You were teamed up with M.M., Annie, and Hughie on surveillance, sitting in Frenchie’s van on one of the side streets outside the auditorium where Victoria Neuman was giving her speech.

Kimiko and Frenchie had formed a perimeter with Butcher on the campus. After the speech came to a close, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had worked out where Victoria would likely be escorted out to get back to her limo.

But you forced yourself to take deep breaths. You watched the various camera angles you and M.M. had been able to hook up to the monitors inside the van. On one of the screens was Ben in his full Soldier Boy gear, sans helmet, waiting for his cue.

You felt M.M. glancing at you, and you met his stare. His expression was tight, but mostly stoic. Still, you had a feeling you knew what he was thinking.

“He can do this,” you said.

M.M. shook his head and faced the screens. “You think you can fucking change him.”

“No,” you said. “But he just might surprise you.”

You weren’t trying to change him, nor were you trying to free yourself anymore. He’d caught you, in more ways than one.

Now, you were just trying to help him. And maybe, help yourself.

“I don’t give a fuck,” M.M. bit out. Annie and Hughie glanced at both of you in thinly veiled concern. You just quirked a humorless smile.

“I think you do,” you replied.

“All right, look alive,” Butcher said on the comm. Victoria’s speech was over. She was shepherded off the stage by her bodyguards while the president of NYU got up to make closing remarks.

She got as far as the hallway leading to the back door of the auditorium before Frenchie and Butcher sniped out her guards. You watched Victoria gasp and flinch at the bullets flying all too close to her. She looked around sharply, but finding no one there, she made a run for the exit.

That was when Ben ambushed her from the side, grabbing her from behind and shoving her through the door of the next room before she could aim her gaze at any part of him.

Ben stalked in after her. You adjusted the camera monitors to connect to the science lab they’d burst into. Every muscle in your body tensed as you watched.

Meanwhile, Ben was wary but not afraid as he kept his shield in front of his face. Victoria raised a hand to a her now bruised arm, but she scrambled in her navy pencil dress and heels to pick herself up.

She looked up at the supe striding toward her, taking in his head protecting his upper body. So she focused her gaze on his right thigh, making him falter as her power made her eyes roll into her head and blast at his suit.

The skin underneath was durable though. It felt like a nasty sunburn, one that Ben could ignore. He approached until he could grab her by the hair and turn her face away from him. She cried out, clawing back at his hand.

He placed his shield onto the holster on his back and got a hold on the back of her neck. He forced her onto her knees while he made her keep looking at the ground.

“Soldier Boy,” she panted. “Haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Cut the fucking chit-chat. Where the fuck is Stan, that dick tease?”

He was about to start squeezing his grip, when he was suddenly thrown into the far wall. He fell into a mess of student desks, beakers, and various scientific instruments.

“Zoe!” he heard Victoria shout. Apparently the woman’s daughter was a supe too. A telekinetic, by the looks of it.

With an angry growl, he picked himself up and shook off the glass from his shoulders. By the time he looked up, Victoria was ushering her daughter out the opposite door.

Ben ran after them, following them into what seemed to be another classroom. This one was full of students busy taking a test, and a professor grading a large stack of papers. Ben zipped through and ignored the gasps and shocked faces, along with a couple of kids that recognized him and immediately took out their phones.

He also didn’t care that his elbow knocked the stack of papers to the ground (to the professor’s outrage).

He bulldozed his way into another empty classroom, where he threw his shield at Victoria’s back. With a cry, she tripped and fell into a desk, and was separated from her daughter.

“Mom!” Zoe cried and reached out for her, but Victoria raised a frantic hand.

“Stay there!” she shouted back at her. Her attention focused back on Ben.

She razed at his face and chest with her powers. Ben winced as heat flared across his skin, blistering to the point of second-degree burns on his arm after protecting his face. He strode forward and grabbed her again, this time with a thumb pressing over one eye.

“You wanna keep your fucking eyes, or you want to tell me where your father is?” he demanded.

“No!” Zoe shouted. She raised her hands, and a violet glow of energy spread between them. Ben picked up his shield, ready to use it as a projectile against the girl.

Until your voice sounded in the comm in his ear.

“Go easy, Ben. She’s not the target,” you warned. He hesitated, his lips twisting in annoyance.

“Zoe,” Victoria warned. His thumb still pressed threateningly against one of her eyes. The other looked up at him, defiant. But her lower lip was trembling.

“You really want your daughter to be a part of this?” Ben asked darkly.

You were on pins and needles. While you watched the screen, M.M. glanced at you.

“We need to do something,” Annie said. She had been antsy the entire time, and when Hughie tried to grab her shoulder, she shrugged him off.

“We can’t extract the girl without Neuman seeing us,” you said. But you weren’t happy about it.

Annie gave you an incredulous look. “So you’re okay with that psycho killing a little girl?”

“Of course not, Annie!” you snapped. “But this is the reality of catching criminals. They rarely go down by themselves.”

She frowned angrily at you.

“That sounds like an excuse for murder,” she said.

There was a tense moment, in which you and Annie stared back at one another. You eventually relented.

“Okay, go. But stay on standby with Kimiko and Frenchie. They’re outside the classroom, 112B,” you told her. She and Hughie raced out, and you let out a breath while you turned back to the tense scene in front of you.

“Look, I don’t know where he is,” Victoria said. “We haven’t exactly been on speaking terms.”

“Then get him on the fucking phone,” Ben snapped.

A tear streamed down her eye, the one that briefly closed, then looked up at him.

“He’s not a bad man,” she said. “Not…entirely.”

Ben snorted in response. “Well, aside from trying to replace me with a bullshit knockoff, shipping me off to motherfucking Siberia. He stole from me. My life. And the bitch of the whole bunch, tried to kill me with a fucking clone, with the help of my own DNA. So excuse me if I’m past the fucking point of forgive and forget.”

“Fine! Fine,” she said, when he started squeezing in earnest. “Let my daughter go, and I’ll help you.”

Ben glanced up at the girl. She was frightened, with her glowing hands still poised to try and take him out. He still had half a mind to knock her out first.

“She’s just a kid, Ben. Let her go,” you said in his ear.

After another tense moment, Ben nodded.

Annie burst into the classroom, followed by Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko. Annie reached Zoe with a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she shared a look with Victoria.

“She’ll be okay,” Annie told Victoria, who nodded as more tears slipped down her cheeks. Ben held her firm by the shoulders when Butcher came with a device, no doubt provided by the CIA. It looked like a large metal band that clicked into place around Victoria’s head, covering her eyes.

Kimiko and Frenchie led her out, while Annie and Hughie did the same for Zoe. Butcher shared an appraising look with Ben, who stared back at him coolly.

Meanwhile, you let out a deep breath. You sat back in your seat and ignored the way M.M. gave you some cursory side-eye.

Thank Christ that’s over.

Back at Supe Affairs, Victoria gave them addresses to her adoptive father’s known safehouses. Not because they expected to find him there, but because they might find even more material to leverage against him before they attempted to arrest the man.

While Butcher and the rest of the team ran down the leads, you and Annie made sure Victoria’s daughter Zoe was put in protective custody, again, with Grace’s help.

Afterwards, Ben was waiting for you in the car that would bring you both back to the safe house. You rode there in silence.

When you got inside the house and made your way to the bedroom, Ben followed you. It seemed he couldn’t help himself. His arms were crossed, and his face was tight. You waited on him to speak as you started rummaging in the dresser for a shirt and pair of jeans to change into after a shower.

“I don’t need you yapping in my ear when I’m trying to get shit done,” he said.

You paused in your search, and you turned to him, raising an incredulous brow.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to stick to the plan. Targeted kills only, remember? Zoe wasn’t the target.”

His frown soured. “She hit me first.”

You stared back at him. Then you raised your eyes heavenward, praying for strength. And you let out a breath.

“She was trying to help her mother, Ben.”

“If you’re grown enough to throw a punch, you’re grown enough to take one,” he argued.

“You’ve never hit me once,” you pointed out. “Is it different because she’s a supe? Were you really going to kill a child?”

“I never said that,” he said, glaring at you.

“Would you have killed Ryan too?” you asked.

Ben expelled a sigh of exasperation. “Would you shut up already?”

“No,” you refused. And you followed him into the living room when he stormed out. “You’re not going to weasel your way out of this. Would you have killed Ryan?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped. “He was Homelander’s fucking kid.”

“And that makes it all right?”

“Yeah, are you gonna say that in a few years? If he turns out just like Homelander, are you going to come crying to me to take him out?”

You glared at him. He was making a valid point you couldn’t refute, but that didn’t change what he was trying to do.

“You’re unbelievable.” You shook your head and crossed your arms. “You’re actually justifying this.”

“Whether you want to admit it or not, a supe is a supe,” Ben said, raising a finger. “No matter how old they are, they’re a threat.”

“It doesn’t mean a child shouldn’t be protected, Soldier Boy,” you countered. “A life is a life.”

“Hey, if you want to be sanctimonious, good for fucking you,” he shot back. “But don’t tell me how to do my fucking job.”

“I’m asking you to keep your word,” you said. “For both of our sakes.”

That managed to shut him up. With a sigh, you tried to ease up and take his hand. His glove was busted, the skin underneath was red and raw. He allowed it, but he still looked down on you with reserved irritation.

You knew you didn’t have to remind him what breaking Grace’s agreement would mean, for both of you.

“Just follow the plan,” you implored. “Targeted kills only. No collateral damage.”

After Ben came out of the shower, he went into the bedroom to change with a towel wrapped around his waist.

You were already cleaned up, a messy bun atop your head, wearing a plain shirt and some shorts, and sitting up in the bed with your new laptop. But you subtly watched him move around the room.

You noticed the burns across his chest. You were still irritated with him, but you couldn’t help it. You set your laptop aside and went to him.

Ben saw you coming through the large mirror above the dresser. His head turned to you just as you raised a tentative hand near the burns across his chest.

“Does it hurt?” you asked with furrowed brows. Your fingertips were light in touching his chest.

It did sting, but it wasn’t that bad.

Still, all Ben said was, “No. They’ll probably be gone in a few hours anyway.”

Your lower lip stuck out a little, like you didn’t quite believe him as you inspected the various burns.

Ben eyed you. He still couldn’t fucking figure you out.

He knew you were into him…and evidently, you cared about him.

Still, you fought him on virtually everything. There were times when you seemed almost disgusted by him, but when he fucked you, you acted like he was the eighth wonder of the world.

Even now, that perfect damn mouth of yours was frowning while your fingers moved delicately over his skin.

“You want some aloe vera?” you asked.

He knew by your face that you were completely sincere. It made him chuckle. You looked up at him in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

Not unlike this morning, he picked you up (smirking at your squeal) and set you down on the dresser. His hands rested on your hips while yours laid gently on a non-burnt area of his chest.

“For someone as breakable as you, you seem to be real concerned about me,” he said. “...You’re really not afraid of me, are you?”

Your fingertips ran down his skin, unintentionally raising goosebumps. Though you considered his question with a tilt of your head.

“Why, are you going to break me?” you teased.

Ben huffed in amusement. His lips drew near yours, hovering but not yet claiming. He wanted you to come to him this time. Wanted you to let him know if this thing, whatever it was between you two, was heading where he thought it was…

And you didn’t disappoint him.

You reached out and framed his face with both hands, and pulled him into a kiss. For once, neither of you were in a hurry as one languid kiss turned into another.

Your tongue slipped into his mouth, and he welcomed you with a deep, reverberating hum, along with your thighs slipping around his hips. He took a firm grip of you there, while your fingers carded through his hair.

“Still not tired of this?” you whispered against his lips.

He backed off enough to look at you. Really look at you. His brown hair fell above his brows, and as was your habit, you swept some of it out of his eyes.

You read his answer there without him having to say it in words.

So you pulled him back in.

AN: 😏 Was their reunion everything you wanted it to be? Let me know in the comments!

(And do you wanna know where we're going next?)

Next Time:

“Good morning,” Stan greeted, raising his mug. “Care for a cup? Perhaps a donut.”

“Still fucking smarmy,” Ben said. He stood in front of the man’s desk, flexing his half-gloved fingers. He glanced up at the walls of this office, this tower in the sky. “We’ve been doing this dance for a long time, you and I.”

“And yet, on entirely different tempos,” Stan replied. “How can I help you, Soldier Boy?”

Keep Reading: PART 15

Special Note:

I'm releasing a new one-shot soon, set in this story-verse called "Love Actually." It's part of @deanwinchesterswitch's Christmas in July fic event running this month!

Go here to check it out and participate (as a writer/artist or a reader)!

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