Always

Author's Note - this is a one shot/short story, meaning that nothing is coming after this. Rating for um, stuff that you'll find out later. Slash.

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This was the boy who had thrown sand in my hair in first grade, who had put a worm in my lunchbox in fifth grade, calling me a sissy when I screamed. I had known him all my life and hated him for as long. Why, then, did I keep sneaking glances at him? Sure, he was near naked, in only a pair of swim trunks. And he had a nice, toned abdomen – unlike me, a skinny little nothing, wearing a t-shirt so I wouldn’t scare people with my scrawny chest. Whose idea had it been to come to the beach?

“Aren’t you going to get into the water, Quinn?” Ben asked. He put his hands on his hips, his hair dripping wet.

“Um… not yet,” I stuttered in reply. I hoped that he hadn’t caught me eyeing Mike, who was over there with his friends, flirting with some large-chested girl in a pink bikini. Sighing, my best friend unfolded his towel and dried himself off. Even he had muscles, I thought to myself, even with him being anti-jock and all. Why did I have to be the skinny one? The weak, sissy, hopelessly gay one?

Ben sat down on the beach blanket next to me, stretching himself out. He wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest with showing off his stomach and his legs and everything. I didn’t understand why Ben was friends with me. He was good-looking – curly, dark brown hair and blue eyes, plus those muscles that he didn’t have to work for – and he was funny. I didn’t really have any redeeming qualities – except that I was quiet, which can be a good thing, I guess.

“Since you don’t want to swim, what should we do? Go home and watch Lost? Cruise for dudes?” he asked, glancing at me. I hated how Ben teased me about being gay. He pretended like we were both gay and that we liked checking out guys together or something. But he wasn’t gay. I brought my hand to my mouth and started biting on my thumbnail.

“Stop that!” Ben exclaimed, grabbing my hand away from my mouth, “Let’s go. You drive.” He stood up, tossing me the keys to his jeep. I didn’t answer, but I helped him pack up our things.

When we got to Ben's house, he decided that we should watch Lost, because he had the first two seasons on DVD, and was currently obsessed with watching them all the time. After the fifth episode, though, I got bored and got up to go to the bathroom. Ben didn't even stir when I rose from the couch, but why would he?

After I peed, I glanced at my reflection in the full-length mirror on the door. God, I was ugly and scrawny. I wasn't that ugly underneath my clothes, was I? And because Ben was in the other room watching TV anyway, I took off all of my clothes and looked at myself in the mirror again. Even naked I was ugly. I had skinny thighs, bony legs, and even my dick was too small. I started going through the doors in the bathroom, looking for – well, I didn't know. Then I found a blue plastic razor. It was shiny and sharp, and it looked like it would hurt. I started with my left thigh, pressing the razor in and dragging it across. It hurt, like a really bad paper cut, and I kind of whimpered.

"Quinn, are you okay in there?" Ben asked from the other side of the door. I looked down at myself. Drops of blood came from the spot where I'd cut myself, and they were mixing in with the hair on my legs.

"No," I answered dully. Before I could even move, the door was pushed open, and Ben was on the other side. He stopped in the doorway, looking at my ugly naked body, the tiny line of blood on my thigh, and the razor in my hand.

"Quinn, why don't you put your clothes on?" he asked in a strangled kind of voice, picking up my pants and holding them out to me. I dropped the razor on the tiled floor and took the pants but didn't put them on.

"Ben, what's wrong with me?" I asked him. He stopped staring at the floor and met my gaze, studiously avoiding any part of my body. God, I was ugly.

"Quinn, buddy… there's nothing wrong with you," he said softly, and then he came forward and wrapped me in a hug. He was all warmth and muscles and I hugged him back. Then I was crying into his neck, sniffling like a little baby. We stood there for a while and he let me cry until I was done.

"Okay, Quinn, let's put your clothes on," he said again. I'm so ugly that even Quinn doesn't like looking at me.

"Why? What if I don't want to?" I asked, making a measly attempt to sound defiant, even if I didn't really feel that way.

"Because you're teasing me, and I don't know what I might do," he said, and the look in his eyes, the atmosphere, maybe it was the way he was talking, what he was saying, but something gave me the courage (or the stupidity) …

"Ben, kiss me," I said, my voice suddenly and surprisingly strong as I looked right at him. There was a long pause as he looked at me in disbelief. I held his gaze until he finally stepped forward and put his hands on my hips. Slowly, excruciatingly, he moved his mouth down and brushed his lips on mine before backing away. I made a noise and pulled his head back towards mind, kissing him harder, teeth clicking when he opened his mouth. I pushed my tongue in and he started sucking on it and I remembered that I was still naked and he wasn't. Without breaking away, I reached down and tried to unbutton his pants. Ben broke away and he looked at me.

"Um, Quinn, maybe we shouldn't be doing this in the bathroom," he said, looking sheepish.

"Let's go upstairs," I said, getting impatient. Ben was beautiful, and he tasted nice and now I was a little hard. Ben grabbed my hand and we practically ran upstairs to his bedroom. After he closed the door, I went back to trying to get his clothes off.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked me, looking nervous.

"Yes," I said, wondering where this courage had come from, why I was suddenly the one taking charge. I decided not to worry about it, and reached for his zipper. Ben put his hands over mine and unzipped his pants. I pushed them down and stared. He was wearing briefs instead of boxers, and they outlined his package nicely. I could tell that he was bigger than me and I wanted to touch him.

"Take your shirt off," I said, never removing my eyes from the bulge in his underwear. He took his shirt off and tossed it on the floor, and I reached for the waistband of his underwear. I pulled them down and he kicked out of them. My mouth went dry. He was bigger than me, and hard, too. I reached out and brushed my thumb over the head. Ben trembled and grabbed my wrist.

"Quinn," he moaned, but he didn't ask me to stop, so I wrapped my hand around it and started stroking it. Ben made more of those strangled moaning sounds, and I wondered how it would taste if I put his cock in my mouth. I gave it a few more strokes and then knelt down and took him in my mouth. It was an interesting flavor, and the noise he made was instantly gratifying. I couldn't fit the whole thing in my mouth so I used my hand to stroke him while I licked and sucked the head. He said my name again and I knew he was close, but I didn't take my mouth away and I swallowed all of it. I stood up, and Ben was barely holding him up, his eyes half-closed. I put my hands on his waist and held him up.

"Oh my God, Quinn," he breathed out, opening his eyes to look at me, "that was amazing," he said. He put his hand on my cheek, brushing his thumb across my cheek. "I love you, Quinn. I love you so fucking much. I'm sorry that I didn't say anything…" He kissed me and we slowly walked backwards until I felt the back of my knees hit the bed, and I fell backwards, putting Ben with me. He pulled away and looked at me, using his elbows to prop himself up.

"God, you're so fucking gorgeous," he said, pressing a kiss to my neck, my collar bone, my chest, my stomach … and wrapped his lips around my cock. I'd never had an experience like that before. Electricity shot through my whole body, and I clutched the sheets as he took me deeper into his mouth. After I climaxed, he slid up to lie next to me.

"I'm here for you, Quinn," he said, "I'll always be here. I love you," he repeated.

'"I love you, too," I whispered back, and I fell asleep with my head tucked into the crook of his neck.