WILD THING (18+) - COMPLETED

HIM TOO

Ben pulled up into the driveway of Jonah's apartment, his arrival barely heralded by the expensive purr of his car's engine.

He got out of the car then started when he noticed Jonah's Mustang parked in its often empty spot. He looked at the date on his phone's calendar, then looked at the car again.

It was definitely practice day. Usually, that meant Jonah would be out with his teammates till late, and it was just - another glance at his phone - 10.30pm.

What was he doing home so early?

Was something wrong?

Was he throwing a loud-on-the-inside-quiet-on-the-outside party?

Damn.

Whatever it was, it probably meant Ben wouldn't be able to get in the quality sleep he needed in the guestroom Jonah had set aside for him for those nights he worked late and didn't want to drive the long way home.

Ben scrubbed at his face with an exhausted sigh and trudged up the walkway to the door.

At the very least, he'd get a coffee to sober him up before the drive home.

The moment he entered the dining area, he was assaulted by the delicious and very rare smell of Jonah's cooking.

"You have company," he said in an awed voice, taking in the two empty glasses on the island countertop behind Jonah's back.

Jonah jumped, nearly a mile high, and turned with a shushing finger furtively pressed to his lips.

"You're going to wake her!" he whispered harshly, and Ben laughed, plopping down on a stool.

"So it's a she," he murmured, feigning thoughtfulness. His eyes tracked the sheen over Jonah's bare shoulders, and he added, "You wore her out, huh?"

Jonah huffed out a laugh and turned back to what he was cooking.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"To sleep. Alone, unlike you, ladies' man."

Another laugh escaped Jonah. "Sometimes, you make it so obvious that you're old as fuck, man. You know where your room is."

"Feels like you're trying to get rid of me."

Before Jonah could offer up a rebuttal, their banter was interrupted by a sleepy feminine voice saying, "Ugh, you woke me with the smell of your cooking, Gordon."

The gears in Ben's mind ground to a screeching halt at the sight of Cara Cooper descending the stairs in nothing but a large T-shirt - obviously not hers - the messiness of her hair proclaiming her freshly fucked state.

Her legs went on for days, and he could glimpse flashes of lace under the hem of the T-shirt when she moved.

His presence seemed to register late in her mind as she froze at the bottom of the stairs, her mouth opening and closing on nothing until she finally said, "Shit. Fuck. Professor Kincaid?"

"Eloquent, Miss Cooper," Ben drawled. "And this is Jonathan, not Gordon."

Cara's eyes rolled a little, and Ben bit back a laugh.

"Yes, I know," she said. "Private joke. Can I... can I just run up and change into something more... more?"

"Not on my account," Ben said, sliding off the stool. "I was just leaving anyway."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, we're all adults here," Jonah groaned. "You don't have to go anywhere, Ben. I'm sure the walls are thick enough to insulate you from any sounds you might not want to hear."