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“You a virgin?”
Randy squirms in the front seat of the car, dressed in another man’s clothes, with the stink of blood and gunfire burnt into his nostrils. He wants to peel out of his skin, to be nothing but flesh and bone, the way that Benson had stripped Chris of his skull, how he'd flayed Jess open. When Randy blinks, red explodes behind his eyes, he hears the screams. He thinks he’s going to be sick.
“Randy,” Benson trills, “Didn’t answer my question.”
Randy squirms again. “Yep.” He says. He and Lisa didn’t do anything but make out on her couch, and there’s never been any others, it’s not like he goes outside except for work and grocery store runs with his mom.
“Serious?” Benson asks. He’s looking at Randy, and Randy can’t look back at him.
“Yeah,” Randy says. His palms are sweaty, he digs his nails into the skin. The indents on his palm haven't healed in years, crescent moon scars that ache.
Benson seems to think about something for a long time, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Then he says;
“You wanna change that?”
Randy does look at him then, wide-eyed. “What?” He blurts out before he can stop himself.
He must have misheard, or Benson’s fucking with him, making fun of the hundred gay jokes that Randy’s heard every single day of his miserable life. He knows what he looks like, sad, damp, pink-mouthed. He remembers a porno that Hardy had left lying out in the back office, the twink on the front cover had looked exactly like him.
“Do you,” Benson asks slowly, eyes flicking up and down. “Wanna change that?”
“With you?” Randy asks stupidly.
Benson raises an eyebrow. “I got a girl in the trunk you don’t know about?”
Randy feels his face go hot. “I- I –“
“Relax,” Benson drawls. “You’re so uptight, you know that? Maybe a good fuck will cure you.”
He jerks the steering wheel violently, and the car veers off the side of the road, wheels bumping as they drive into the dirt. Randy yelps, grabbing hold of the car door to stop himself smacking his head against the window, and Benson laughs, loud and carefree.
“S’okay.” He says, as they shudder across the dead grass. “You can trust me.”
Randy doesn’t say anything to that, gripping the handle until his knuckles go white. He’s scared, but he’s been scared since he woke up this morning. This is a different kind of scared, the apprehension that someone is going to touch his body without permission. His body is a pale weak thing, a stranger to even himself.
Benson kills the engine, and the world is dead and quiet. There are no cars on the highway, or birds in the sky, the world feels like it stopped ever since Benson came crashing back through the Burger House doors. Benson grins at Randy, and slings one arm across the back of Randy’s seat. From an outsider's perspective, they'd look like friends. From Randy's perspective, he looks like a viper about to strike, and Randy shivers, already feeling the all-too-familiar pinprick of tears.
“Base?” Benson says.
“Wha- What do you mean?”
Benson rolls his eyes. “Base. What base have you got to? How far have you gone, Randy?”
“I,” Randy tries to think, “I don’t know-“
“French, feel, finger, fuck.” Benson counts them out on his hand, fingers stained yellow with nicotine. “Where’d you get to?”
“Uh… French I guess?” Randy can remember the feel of his tongue in Lisa’s mouth, her nervous giggle as his hand stroked down her spine. “Maybe feel – I don’t know what you count as feel, but-“
“It’s not a test,” Benson says, sounding a little irritated, and Randy flushes in embarrassment. “I’m just asking. Stop panicking.”
He leans across, and Randy has the horrible fear that he’s going to kiss him. Instead, he drops his attention to Randy’s jeans, reaching down with his free hand to pop the first button. His other hand, around the back of the seat, brushes against Randy’s cheek, thumb rubbing against him.
“You good?” Benson asks lightly.
Randy doesn’t speak. He’s so hot that he might explode, like the Challenger over the Atlantic Ocean. Big Bird was meant to be on that shuttle, his stupid brain informs him. Benson’s coat looks like Big Bird, oversized and fluffy, soft when it grazes against Randy’s skin. Benson’s hand is slowly pulling down the zip of his jeans, but it’s still too fast, too sudden.
“Hips up,” Benson says quietly.
Randy complies, lifting himself upright so that Benson can tug his jeans down to mid-thigh, exposing the striped boxers that he’s been wearing since yesterday. He’s already chubbing up, a bulge in the fabric that neither can deny. Benson chuckles and lightly strokes his fingers across it, and Randy breathes hard through his nose.
“Seriously never had anyone before?” Benson asks. His voice is deep and low, making Randy’s stomach hurt.
Randy shakes his head. “Nuh-uh.” He says.
"Anyone ever offered?"
"I don't-" There are bees buzzing in Randy's brain, he can't think. "I don't know."
Benson runs his tongue over his moustache, and glistens it with spit. Then he darts forward suddenly, and wriggles right down until his face is practically shoved into Randy’s crotch, one hand on Randy’s thigh, the other dangling down off the seat. Randy’s heart thunders up into his throat, and he doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t know what to do.
“Randy Randy Randy,” Benson murmurs. He presses his mouth to the fabric, suckles Randy through it, and Randy whimpers at the pressure. He thought that it would feel – like his own hand, but it’s so good, and Benson laps at him until everything is wet and sticky.
Benson raises his head just enough to tug Randy’s cock from the hole in his boxer shorts, flushed and achingly hard. The cold air makes Randy whine, and Benson laughs, his breath hot. Randy watches him, unable to even blink, as Benson drags his tongue up the entire length of Randy’s cock, swirling around the head until Randy chokes out a moan.
“Good, huh?” Benson grins, batting his eyelashes. He licks again, and Randy’s hips jerk upwards of their own accord, bumping his cock against Benson’s mouth.
“Fuck, I’m sorry-“ Randy chokes out, and Benson laughs.
“Oh you want it,” He says. “You want me to suck your cock.”
“No-“ Randy says, but Benson’s shrugging off his coat, leaving it piled in a heap on the car footwell. “Benson-“
“I get it,” Benson grins. “I’d want to get sucked off by me too.”
He drops his head and takes Randy in his mouth, all the way down until his cock bumps the back of his throat, and Randy cries out before he can stop himself. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, the pressure, the tight wet heat, Benson’s head bobbing up and down in his lap. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, doesn’t want to touch Benson in case he stops.
His hips thrust upwards again, and Benson gags, a horrible sound that makes Randy want to do it all again. He chews down on his bottom lip, clenching his fists, and Benson hums around his cock, enjoying this – this debauchery. How many people has Benson sucked off? Randy can see him on his knees in an alleyway, a stranger fucking his mouth, gripping his face to keep him still.
“Benson,” Randy says. “Benson.” He likes the way that the name sounds in his mouth, he slurs it out in one syllable somehow, like he’s trying to spit it out. Like he’s trying to get rid of the taste of him.
Benson pulls off with a wet pop to adjust his position, tilting his head to one side so that Randy’s cock is fucking the inside of his cheek. It means Randy has to do more work, thrusting up his hips, fingers digging into the leather seats as he pants out. Benson’s eyes are crinkled as he looks up at him, dark eyes, like he scrapes kohl pencil across his waterline every morning. Probably does. Probably isn’t scared of being called a fag.
“I’m gonna-“ Randy thrusts again, watching the bulge of Benson’s cheek. “I’m-“
Benson pulls off so abruptly that Randy ends up humping air.
“Please,” Randy babbles out, a mess already. “Please please, Benson, fuck-“
Benson sits upright, his mouth red, a smear of precome on his chin. He’s smirking, and Randy wriggles on the seat like a wet fish. He can’t stop thrusting his hips like a teenage boy, but doesn’t dare put his hand on himself, in case Benson shouts at him. He wants to tell Benson to put his mouth back on him, but he’s not brave. He’s never been brave.
“You think getting your dick sucked means you’re not a virgin anymore?” Benson asks.
“I- I don’t know.”
“Shit Randy,” Benson laughs, scrubbing at the back of his head with his hand. There’s a stick and poke tattoo just above his elbow, the ink bleeding it into a dark blue smudge. “By your rules, I would have lost my virginity at thirteen.”
“What?” Randy says, but Benson is leaning back, reaching to open up the car door. His shirt has stretched up, exposing a thin strip of stomach, hair across his belly. “Wait, what are you doing?”
“Helping you lose your virginity,” Benson says. “C’mon. Out the car.”
“Benson-“
“You want to lose it, right?” Benson says, his voice loud. It makes Randy’s ears ring. “Randy? That’s what you want?”
Randy nods his head. His cock is aching between his thighs, cock bobbing as he stretches out one leg. He’s never been so turned on in his life, he thinks he could die. He can see the headlines now, his half-naked corpse in Benson’s front passenger seat, jeans around his ankles, dick unsucked. It embarrasses him. He thinks of what his mom would say.
“Then get out the car.” Benson says, and grins.
***
Randy ends up bent over the front bonnet, face pressed against the hot metal, trying not to cry as Benson fingers him. His jeans are around his ankles, and he’s still wearing Benson’s shirt, can smell his sweat on it like cologne. He doesn’t ask where Benson got the lube from, only knows that it’s cold when he dribbles it over Randy’s ass, making everything slippery.
“You ever done this to yourself?” Benson asks casually. Like this is normal, to have one finger pressed inside your coworker’s ass, stretching him open for the girth of your cock.
“Uh uh.” Randy manages to say. His legs are spread wide, cock pressed uncomfortably between his belly and the car. He keeps accidentally rubbing himself, and he’s worried he’s going to shoot his load before Benson wants him to. Before he’s taken his virginity.
“You should try sometime,” Benson says. “When you’re jerking off in your bedroom. Let me guess, Britney posters?”
He does something with his fingers and Randy whimpers with pleasure, cock twitching. He presses back against Benson’s hands, the same hands that shot three people earlier that day. There’s still blood underneath his fingernails. It’s inside of Randy now.
“C’mon, what posters?” Benson breathes hot over the back of Randy’s neck. “Christina? Britney? In that fucking schoolgirl outfit, tits out? Or does your mommy not like those?”
Randy cringes, his mom’s face flashing across his mind. He doesn’t want to think about her right now, not with Benson sliding another thick finger inside of him, making a stream of high-pitched noises escape from his lips.
“God you’re so-“ Benson cuts himself off by mouthing at Randy’s skin, not a kiss, more a bite. His teeth are sharp, and Randy realises he wants Benson to leave a mark, dig in until he breaks flesh.
“Please,” Randy says before he can stop himself.
“Mm?” Benson licks at Randy’s neck. “What was that Randy?”
Randy swallows. “Please.” He repeats. “I’d like – More.”
Benson laughs, grazing his teeth. Then he takes a step back, and Randy’s afraid he’s going to turn tail and leave him there, bent over the front bonnet on the side of the road. Instead, the noise of Benson unbuckling his belt is loud, metal clinking, and the smooth snk of his zipper.
“If you’d told me this morning,” Benson says, “That I’d be taking sweet little Randy Bradley’s virginity, then I’d have laughed.”
He slides his hands down Randy’s back, culminating in groping Randy’s ass, before giving it a hard smack. Randy jerks on instinct, pain exploding behind his eyes, and pre-come dribbles from the head of his cock. He can hear his own heartbeat, head throbbing with it, and his breath catches in his throat when he hears Benson make a guttural sound and spit down onto his own cock.
“Then again,” Benson says, pushing Randy down by the neck so that his ass sticks out in the air, in display for all to see. “I didn’t think I’d get rid of my coworkers today either.”
He pushes inside of Randy, and Randy squawks in pain – he’s being split open, he’s being torn apart, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts-
“Shush baby,” Benson says, his voice sounding far away. “Shush, s’okay. I’ve got you, I’m gonna make you feel fantastic.”
Randy pants open-mouthed like a dog, and tries to relax his body, despite every atom screaming no. Benson is still making soft comforting noises as he fucks Randy open, and Randy chokes out a moan when he feels Benson’s hips press against his ass, meaning he’s all the way inside.
“There we go,” Benson says soothingly. “I got you.”
“Benson,” Randy says, and it comes out as a moan. His thighs are trembling. “Please.”
Benson’s hands wriggle underneath Randy’s shirt and grip his waist, tight enough to leave bruises. Randy can feel a tear running down his cheek, salty wet, and clenches around the cock inside of him. Benson’s breath hitches, and he noses the back of Randy’s neck, where his hair is sweaty.
“I’m gonna make it perfect,” Benson promises, and snaps his hips forward.
Everything is white hot pain, filtering out into undeniable pleasure. Randy feels full and good, something inside of him sparking with desire every time he hears the slap of Benson’s hips against him. He lifts his head to cry out, and Benson laughs in delight, increasing the pace of his thrusts.
“You like that?” He asks. “S’good baby?”
“So- so – so – “ Randy babbles out, blood thundering in his ears, threatening to burst. “Yeah.”
“Yeah, you know it,” Benson says, punctuating his words with sharp movements that make Randy’s cock throb. “You know I’d do it right for you.”
Benson fucks him hard and fast over the car bonnet, cock pumping in and out until Randy can barely keep himself upright. He feels like he’s drowning, despite the dirt underneath his feet, and the wind whipping both their bodies, brain unable to focus on anything but Benson. It still hurts, everything hurts, but Randy craves it. He wants Benson to hit him again. He wants Benson to bite him.
“I’m so close,” Randy pants out for the second time, his cock so hard that he’s scared to come. “Please, Benson-“
“You gonna cum from just my cock?” Benson’s voice is wrecked, and Randy thinks I did that to you. “I make you feel that good?”
“Yeah,” Randy sobs, and he’s seconds away from coming, he’s going to make such a mess. “Please, please.”
“Do it,” Benson says, and pulls Randy flush against him, the sudden change in position making Randy cry out. “Show me.”
Randy shoots rope across the front of the car bonnet, whimpering as he watches his cum splatter against the paintwork. Benson groans from behind him, watching, and drags his hand down to wrap around Randy’s cock, milking the last few drops. Randy’s trembling, and he can't stop twitching against Benson, body wanting to come over and over until he’s a fucked out mess.
“God you’re fucking pretty,” Benson says, and licks his ear. “All that just for me, huh?”
Randy hiccups in reply, and Benson roughly pushes him back down against the car, come smearing over his shirt. He can smell it from here, and it makes his eyes sting as Benson continues fucking him.
“You’re so tight,” Benson says, wondrously. “Never fucked anything so tight before.”
He gives Randy’s ass a stinging slap, laughs at his own actions. Randy clenches, because Benson seems to like that, and Benson groans in response, massaging his palms across Randy’s skin.
“Look at you,” He says. “Could eat you up. You’d like that, huh?”
“Yeah,” Randy whispers, but Benson hears him all the same.
“Pretty.” He says again, and noses the back of Randy’s neck. “You smell good.”
Randy doesn’t respond, focusing instead on the steady movements of Benson’s cock fucking in and out of him. He’s losing his virginity, he thinks, which is a stupid thought to have in the moment. Benson is taking something that he can never get back, no matter how hard he tries. Benson’s got part of him forever.
“Hey,” Benson’s teeth press against his skin. “Can I come in you?”
Randy didn’t think that Benson would come anywhere else. “Uh-huh.” He says, and feels Benson grin.
“Good,” He says, thrusting forward hard enough to force a yelp out of Randy. “Getting the full experience here Randy. Told you I’d do it.”
“Yeah,” Randy says shakily, “You told me.”
Benson laughs and wraps a hand around Randy’s throat, not tight enough to suffocate, but enough that Randy feels like he’s collared. His cock twitches at the new sensation, and he moans, pushing back against Benson.
“You like that?” Benson asks, voice low. “Like my hand on you?”
“Yes,” Randy says, and Benson flexes his fingers.
“Good boy.” He says, and starts pounding into him.
Randy can’t tell how long Benson fucks him, only that he loses sight of where his body ends, and Benson’s begins. Everything is hot, the stink of sex in the air, and Benson grunts in his ear, better than any porn star Randy’s ever heard. Randy can’t believe he was missing out on this the whole time, that they could have – that they should have-
“Gonna-“ Benson pants, “Oh fuck, gonna-“
He moans Randy’s name as he comes, and Randy experiences someone spilling inside of him for the first time, wet and sticky, filling him up just like he wants. He’s always wanted this, he realises, always wanted someone to take control and pump him full of come. He cries out as Benson fucks out the last dredges of come, and Benson lathers him with spit, breath hot against his ear.
“Jesus.” Benson drags out the word. “Randy, fuck.”
He half collapses on top of him, a hot heavy weight that pushes Randy down against the car. Benson’s cock is still inside of him, softer now, and Randy doesn’t want to move, wants to stay here forever with Benson buried in his ass. He blinks away wet tears, and listens to the quiet of the world now that they’ve stopped.
Does he feel different, without his virginity? He’d always imagined losing it with Lisa, or one of the girls who came into the restaurant on their lunch break, who laughed when he stuttered trying to take their order. Randy always thought he’d have sex out of pity, the same way you might snap an injured mouse’s neck to put it out of his misery. He wasn’t expecting anyone to fuck him because they wanted him.
Benson is tracing the shell of Randy’s ear with his tongue, before moving down to suckle at the lobe. Benson tests out his teeth, a sharp pain like a piercing gun, and Randy shudders, but doesn’t push him away. He wants to put his own teeth on Benson, wants to explore the soft skin of his stomach, his inner thighs. He runs his tongue over his canines, and imagines them sunk into Benson’s cheek.
A bird sings overhead. A fox screams. Faintly, there are sirens.
Benson grunts at that, and slowly drags himself off Randy’s body, one hand on Randy’s waist as he pulls out. Randy whines at the loss of fullness, then squirms as he feels come trickle out of his ass and down his thigh. He can feel Benson watching him, admiring what he’s done.
“How do you feel?” Benson says, which Randy wasn’t expecting.
“I don’t know,” Randy says. It’s not a lie. He’s empty, yes, but that’s not a feeling. It’s not an emotion.
“Can you stand?”
Randy follows instructions, legs aching. He bends to pick up his trousers and boxers, wincing at the ache inside of himself, and redresses, going through the motions. Benson is still watching him carefully, eyes fixed on Randy’s trembling fingers as he zips himself back up.
“There we go,” Benson says, when Randy’s finished. “Good boy.”
Randy tries not to preen at the praise, tugging down his shirt. It’s stained with come, white smears across the fabric. He wonders if it will come out in the wash, if he can smuggle it into the machine before his mom notices, asks where the shirt has come from. She doesn't like him wearing graphic shirts, prefers him presentable, the perfect son.
“Sorry,” Randy says.
“Shut up,” Benson replies. He tugs up his own pants, re-buckles his belt. He makes post-sex dressing look effortless, hot even. Randy’s stomach lurches at the idea of finding Benson hot.
They stand there, looking at each other. Randy can still feel Benson’s come inside of him, staining him. He’s no longer a complete person – but was he ever complete in the first place? The Randy Bradley of yesterday was barely human. The Randy Bradley of today is something else.
“You feel different?” Benson asks bluntly.
“Yeah,” Randy replies.
“Good or bad?” Benson asks. He twitches his neck, like he already knows the answer. Randy doesn’t think he does. He doesn't think that Benson knows him as well as he assumes.
“Good,” Randy says, and Benson blinks. “I feel… yeah. Good.”
“Serious?” Benson says. He goes to put his hands in his coat pockets, then realises he isn’t wearing it. His hands awkwardly fumble, before he drops them down by his sides again.
“I’m serious,” Randy says. His ass hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt. Like pressing down on a bruise, or biting the inside of your mouth. He could get used to this. He could ask Benson for more. “That was… yeah. Thank you.”
“Thanks me after sex,” Benson says to nobody in particular, rolling his eyes. “You’re a fucking dork, you know that right?”
“I know,” Randy says, and Benson steps forward to roughly punchly him on the shoulder. It reminds Randy of the football players who would come into the restaurant after games, drunk and overly affectionate with each other, roughhousing for the sake of touching other men.
“C’mon then lover boy. I’m gonna take you to the mall.”
“The mall?” Randy asks, but Benson’s already moving away, heading for the front seat.
“Post-sex present!” He calls over his shoulder, jangling his keys in one hand. There's a keychain that Randy hadn't noticed before, a stress ball in the shape of a heart, comically smiling. It makes Benson seem human. “You deserve it, you took cock like a champ back there. C’mon.”
I took cock like a champ, Randy thinks, and feels strangely proud. He might not be going to college, he might not be doing anything with his life, but he can bend over and let Benson fuck him stupid. He could do it again maybe. In a hotel room. Could sit on Benson’s lap like he’s seen in porn, bounce up and down like a good little toy.
The thought sends an illicit thrill through his body, and then he’s heading off after Benson, hand already outstretched for the passenger door.