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After Arsenal took the lead for the third time, all Ben knew was that he just wanted the night to end. A typical London derby near the end of the season, the North London team was out for blood, the youngsters thrashing the ball about and exploiting the obvious weaknesses in the team’s defence. The kind of thing that was torture for Ben to watch. It was the Chelsea men that were getting the fouls, they got frustrated early on. But the frustration wasn’t enough to take the lead themselves in the second half — and to top it off, Azpi fouled Saka, in the penalty area, grabbing onto the body fully in a way that made Ben’s stomach drop — gave the boy a penalty. Either way, that was an invitation for Arsenal to lead by two.
They had been driven to play desperately, the desperation could be tasted in the air in the dressing room after full time. Ben was there, feeling more like a useless part than ever stood behind all the boys, for the moment where Tuchel tried to find the words for what had happened. His own heart thudded from what he hadn’t experienced, that desire to be playing there with them drilled him through and through during losses like this. The ones who’d played looked torn to shreds. A team that had lost its previous games to a few middling teams and were losing their grip in the top four — had done this to them. Chelsea, who’d gotten to the Champions League semi finals, and had been ejected undeservedly, but still. They’d all played like starving wolves.
It was fine. Just a night to forget. The men dissipated quietly to get changed and get home. The third game here at the Bridge ending in disappointment, the silence is colder and harder than ever, experiencing it was like getting dragged along concrete. At Chelsea there seems to be a vague, shameful, yet short lived sense of resentment amongst the teammates, during these moments. It’s incredible how they all get absorbed in their own worlds, it took Ben a few seconds to register the contact of the hand in his own. It was Mason, of course, who doesn’t say anything or doesn’t even look at him. He was there just for a moment, nobody noticing, applying faint pressure to Ben’s palm, then he’s getting ready. There was some discussion amongst the others, all of them walking on eggshells around each other, but one of them could explode anytime soon. Ben left the room, if it wouldn’t help to try to console his teammates any further then there was no point of lingering. He went to his car, and sat there listening to the muffled sounds of the punters getting away from the stadium.
Mason eventually came in, stuffing himself into the passenger’s side. Still not looking at Ben. “Let’s get the fuck outta here,” he mumbled. Ben was rolling out, he’d gotten the ignition on as soon as Mason opened the door.
The roads were quiet, the dark shapes of houses they passed by a solemn, comforting sight. Like a tonic to the experience of the harsh stadium lights and sharp clarity of it all. The sound in the stadium was crippled, as now with the sanctions, the supporters at home games seemed to be drowned out by those in the away section.
“So? You’ve got nothing to say about the performance?” Mason said.
“It... It should’ve been better. You were brilliant... Didn’t have anything to do with the problems elsewhere.”
Mason was looking at his phone, Ben could see from the corner of his eye and didn’t need to look closer to know that the younger man was looking into what was being said about the game.
“City beat Brighton, they’re ahead. We should be the ones contesting them, not...” Mason trailed off, the distant, upcoming match against Liverpool has been smouldering in a corner of his mind. He glared out the windshield, did not let up the tension in his body at all. “I created chances... but I should’ve done more... and I can’t believe, Kai, did he do anything... and Christensen, the bastard, Malang...” Mason went on about the teammates that had played with him, Ben supplied his own views as somebody who had a broader view of the match. “It’s Arsenal. Arsenal, who’ve been defeated by what, Southampton, Crystal Palace, and Brighton, was it? Of course they come back when they’re paying Chelsea a visit. Of course. Yeah, let the losers take it out on us.” Mason laughed sardonically. He had such an intolerance for losing, everyone knew that. But sometimes, Ben thought it seemed that Mason revelled in the pain, when it got to a certain point. He went over each player’s performance again for the rest of the ride home. He asked Ben what he thought Mason himself could’ve done better. They turned on Ben’s street, finally. “Defence needed you, Ben, you don’t fuck up.”
Ben laughed a bit at that, only thinking of the times he did, the memory of messing up at the FA Cup final last year coming up again. “We definitely can be better, but I know you don’t like hearing this, Mase, we try to be perfect but we can’t be absolutely perfect.” They were at the house, and they got out of the car.
Mason looked happier upon getting inside. “Well, let’s forget about it for now, shall we? We deserve a good kip for the night.”
“Of course, you do.” Ben placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder, and squeezed. The only acceptable end to this nightmarish evening was getting snug in bed with him. He was Ben’s... hardworking midfielder. When they were alone at home: Ben’s favourite, his little toy. He was relieved to see Mason’s smile, having been worried that he’d continue running on this fixation on the events of the game for the next indefinite amount of hours. They had their tireless manager to stay up all night doing that for them anyway.
Then Mason had an idea. “Let’s play a game, up for hide and seek?”
“What?”
“Yeah, you count, and I’ll hide.”
“Hide and seek? It’s late.” Ben couldn’t believe it, last time they’d played, it took him almost 30 minutes to find Mason, who’d run out of patience for hiding and had snuck up on Ben to scare him, for the sake of having at least an entertaining end to the game.
“We’ll go easy mode. Chilly, please, you said I did well in the game, can’t I at least get this one thing?”
It was past ten, a weeknight, but he could see why Mason didn’t consider it to be too late and understood that Mason probably wanted to burn excess energy. “Okay. Sure.”
“You count, yeah? Just to... twenty this time. Easy mode.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I was going to just count to ten.”
“Needs to be easy for me too. Count really slowly?”
“You can run.” Ben smirked, then put his hands over his eyes. Mason dropped his bag. “One... Two...”
After finishing counting, he went through the house hastily. They’d played a few times in the past — one of those weird things Mase comes up with to entertain themselves — which is how Ben learnt to look through his house efficiently. He charged upstairs, eager to get the game finished with. He usually played impatiently, and would hate it when Mason insisted it was his turn to hide, and he’d just find somewhere Mason could easily find him.
Ben came in the bathroom and found the younger man instantly. He was merely sat in the bathtub, his back by the faucet. He was passing the time on his phone, and he turned his gaze up to Ben with his eyes squinting, getting used to the light that Ben had just switched on as he entered.
“Hey,” he greeted Ben.
“Think I found you in record time,” Ben stated, closing the door behind him. The image of Mason in the bright white room, hunched over in the dry tub, fully clothed and deliriously blinking with his phone in his hand, struck him with concern, as well as frustration. Mason had suggested to play a game, but the entertainment that could be gained from it was ultimately limited. It definitely could be more fun, particularly when Mason’s in a better mood, where he’d even get Ben to chase him around the house after finding him.
“Come here.”
Ben obeyed and climbed in. In a bathtub, one let go of the body’s tension by instinct. He sighed, offering Mason a smile. “You like it in here?”
“Yeah. Did you ever think about having a bath with me?”
“...I haven’t.”
Mason looked at him thoughtfully. “Doesn’t appeal?”
“It does when I think about it now.”
Then Mason turned to face away from Ben, and shuffled to get up to him. “Hold me, please,” he mumbled, and Ben wrapped his arms around him, feeling immediately how tense the man was.
“Shall I run you a bath, baby? I’ve got some epsom salts and bubbles if you’d like.” Ben said, hand rubbing Mason’s chest, feeling the heartbeat there.
“Yeah. I’m exhausted.”
“You’re stressed out, it’ll calm you down.”
“Won’t be calm if I’m going to be alone here, stuck with my thoughts and all.”
“No, I’ll stay with you, Mase, of course. Whatever you want.”
Mason leaned back some more into Ben. “Whatever I want? Because I earned it?”
“Yes, of course you did. Absolutely.” Ben squeezed his frame. And he’d always be there for Mason, practically at his bidding, no matter what happened anyway. It’d just be redundant to point that out now.
Mason hummed in contentment, relaxing in Ben’s hold. Perhaps they could fall asleep there in that tub, and indeed it was uncomfortable for Ben, but if Mason was falling asleep there in his arms, then it would have to be tolerable, like how Ben felt obliged to stay still when his dog would fall asleep in his lap when watching a movie on the settee. Funny that the bathtub was the location of choice for rest right after losing a game, Ben reflected. He had a taste for this kind of thing during their downtime, and Ben would be hesitant to disclose what happened between them to anybody else, especially the fact that he enjoyed it. And that Mason was known for being quite mature and assertive on the pitch, but then could be more subdued when it was just the two of them.
Mason brought his hand into Ben’s again. “Undress me and run the bath, would you?”
“Hmm. Lazy now, are we?” Ben smiled and noses at the crown of Mason’s head, Mason giggled as Ben’s hands danced down and slipped under his shirt. He pulled it off, felt down Mason’s torso and tugged his bottoms down, pulling those away too along with his socks, leaving him in his underwear. Ben gently removed himself and sat on the edge of the tub, removed his own socks, turned the hot water on and plugged the sinkhole. Mason shuffled up the tub, away from the stream, and smiled sweetly up at Ben, who dipped down again and removed the last of his pants, collecting all the clothes in a neat pile on the ground.
“Good temperature?” Ben asked as a shallow layer of water gathered around the other man.
“It’s good.” Mason was holding his knees to his chest. Ben doesn’t know if seeing Mason like this will ever feel normal for him, affecting him with that low, hard tug of attraction. Mason probably still gets somewhat self conscious too. He poured some bubble bath liquid in, and shook his hand in it to get it to lather. The water could get scaldingly hot, and it felt near that point. He scooped up a bit of bubbles and water and dropped it atop Mason’s head, his face scrunched up as the water fell over his eyes, and he brushed the foam away. Ben leaned over to kiss the top of his damp head, the short hair there made spiky, and Mason looked up at him. He brought his hands around the nape of Ben’s neck, pulled him down to kiss his mouth. Ben groaned into the kiss, and the hold was tight on his neck, Mason was forcing his body against the edge of the tub.
“Come on. In.” Mason grinned at his mouth, tugging his shirt.
“Just let me—“
“Ben, now.” He pulled at Ben some more, and they laughed as Ben gave in, letting himself get dragged into the tub. The water was shockingly hot, made him feel heavy with the clothes still on his disoriented body, a great weight atop of Mason, but the younger man held on to him, laughing diabolically, as though he’d caught something rare and valuable.
“You’re a great deal of trouble, you know,” said Ben. Mason splashed at him in response.
“I think you mean, I’m a lovely bundle of joy.” He shoved Ben off of him, and reached over for the bubble bath liquid. “Where’d you get this? It’s nice. Lavender, bergamot and sandalwood?” He poured some more under the running water.
“Dunno. Mum must’ve gotten it for me, always bringing me these kind of things since she doesn’t believe I own anything nice. Could be from John Lewis, could be from TK Maxx.”
"Yeah, I should get something like this. I don't own anything nice either."
Feeling ridiculous, Ben tugged his clothes off, and dumped them on the ground. Then he turned off the tap, the tub filled near to the brim, and Mason snuggled up against him again, sighing happily, relishing the soft feeling of skin contact through warm water.
“Comfortable?” Ben asked.
“You’re so caring,” Mason teased. It made Ben’s face heat up, even more so than it had become from the bath, he felt slightly dizzy.
“Yeah, you’re so... delicate.”
“Delicate, am I? That’s how I come across to you, Benjamin?”
“Like I’d spoil your night further if I fail to make everything perfect for you.” He meant it as a joke, and Mason chuckled darkly along.
“Well, yeah, you will if you do. Doesn’t mean I’m delicate. Now, wash me, would ya.”
Ben threw more water on him, and Mason hummed happily as Ben massaged shampoo through his hair. He wasn't dirty at all -- he'd already washed himself after playing, this was just something else entirely, Ben laughed thinking about it.
“Do a thorough job,” Mason instructed him. It was the shortest his hair’s ever been, it didn’t need any work — but Ben understood and pressed his fingers harder against the man’s scalp, his actions rewarded by a low moan from Mason. He put soap on his hands next and rubbed it into Mason’s back, groping at the taut muscles.
“That’s good Ben. Nice and clean,” he whispered. After that, he cuddled Ben as he cleaned himself too, hand resting on Ben’s stomach in the cooling water.
When they got to the bedroom, Mason jumped in the bed and tucked himself under the neatly made sheets. He looked at his phone for a second, before putting it on the side table. Ben crawled in beside him, drying his hair with his towel again.
“You’re still thinking about it,” Ben observed. Mason just closed his eyes and pouted.
“So, distract me, then.”
“What do you want?”
“You know.”
Ben threw the towel to the side. He cozied up next to the younger man and stroked his cheek, Mason twitched and remained displeased. Ben touched the rest of his body, the skin clean, fragrant, and flush under the covers.
“You’re so sweet,” Mason said.
These statements were meant to taunt him. Mason opened his eyes again, half lidded and lazy-looking, peering at Ben and then his hand reached to play at his fluffy fringe. “My Chilly. My mean Chilly. Don’t you like teasing me,” he mumbled.
“Yeah.”
“‘S not enough.”
Ben studied his face, a hand on Mason’s hip, thumb drawing circles there. When they did this before, he’d grab Mason’s hair, which was longer then and easy to yank. His grip on Mason’s hip would be hard enough to leave the bruise. Mason would have to keep urging him to go on, even if it seemed to cause him discomfort, just go on and enjoy the power. He’d said it was like being able to foul someone and not getting any penalty for it, even being encouraged to do it. Just cheat to get what you want.
Ben kissed him forcefully, holding the side of his face in place. Mason shuddered as he bit his lower lip, and Ben pulled away and kissed down to his neck, left a hickey by his collarbone while Mason cradled the back of his head. He moved down more, groped at his chest, mouth finding the tattoo on the soft inside of his arm and nipping hard along there too.
“Oh, god,” Mason whispered. It really did get on the nerves, to watch a game like that, witnessing the team get beaten down every time there seemed to be hope. It really did screw the nerves up. No, it wasn’t something that would be ultimately bothering them for the long run, but for the night, the pain it inflicted was blistering. They needed to do something about it, get the pleasure out of scratching the wound while it was fresh.
Ben pushed Mason up the bed, having him hunched over a bit at the headboard. Part of the cover was bunched in his hand. Ben mouthed at the insides of his thighs. He moved slowly, and Mason was sensitive to the feeling of Ben’s scruff there, and his hands stroking the hair on his leg, then at his dick.
“There we go,” Ben said, rising somewhat, as Mason thrust into his hand.
“Come on, Ben,” he insisted. Ben shifted up so that he could bring his face to Mason’s, he grabbed onto one of Mason’s wrists and continued jerking him off. In fact, it could be quite easy to know what he wanted with Mason, he’d just be hard-pressed to admit what it was. Mason might be embarrassed to state what he himself wanted too. He wanted Ben to fuck him then, Ben knew that, but he squeezed his grip, and put his hand over Mason’s mouth when the man started whining his name again. Frustrated, Mason tried rocking his hips against Ben, but the older man shifted more of his weight on his body, pinning him down like captured prey. He began jerking him again, fast and reckless, then slow again when he felt Mason get close, and then letting go completely, while still covering Mason’s mouth.
“Hands off. And I’ll let you finish.” Ben instructed. The younger man followed the order, he always did what he was told. Mason was breathing sharply against his fingers, which were so tightly pressed that they’d slipped under his lips, making slight contact with the teeth there. He stared at Ben, eyes sternly, silently pleading. Ben grabbed his dick again and jerked him until he came over Ben’s hand, a cry strangled in his throat.
Mason threw his head back as Ben removed the other hand, panting loudly. He loosely reached for Ben’s crotch. He was still aroused, he invited Ben to grind against him, and he got them both off for what a dizzying eternity.
“Don’t you... don’t you want me. More of me,” Mason breathed, as Ben held his hand. “Don’t you expect more of me.”
Ben didn’t answer, he just let himself come against the younger man as he felt him tense up beneath him. When he opened his eyes, he saw Mason’s dark gaze still on him, heavy as falling water.
“Do you ever run out of energy?” Ben asked at some point as they laid there, Mason’s hands rambling about, finding the small of his back.
“I’m out of energy already, I said we need good rest, didn’t I.” But he was still pressed eagerly against Ben’s thigh, hoping for more. Ben felt sweaty, a little gross, he wanted to please Mason for the rest of the night, however long it lasted, while also wanting to just clean up and fall asleep.
“I mean, was it not enough?”
Mason hummed thoughtfully. It didn’t seem like it was — Mason wanted him to be as merciless as the game could be. He wanted to be subjected to the callous whims, there was just something comforting about it when it came from the hands of a friend, something tangible and familiar and knowing. Ben just had to get used to it. He wanted to. They could hear the faint sound of wind just outside the window. “Can never get enough. Of you,” Mason answered.
Ben held him close, listening to the dry sounds of breathing and distracted by the feeling of slick skin as they drifted asleep.