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The first time Randy had brought it up they were lying in bed together. Benson was playing with his hair, it had gotten long in their time away from home. If that had ever really been home. Randy turned 23 recently. Benson brought him a 6 pack of chocolate cupcakes and ate half himself. Things had died down a bit in the world and they could afford to be a little less cautious.
Benson had taken to teasing him and calling him Goldilocks but he loved running his fingers through Randy’s blond curls, now getting close to his shoulders. He brushed them out of the way to admire the collection of hickeys and little finger-shaped bruises that adorned his neck. Couldn’t buy him jewelry but this would have to do.
“I really am your first, huh?” Benson asks.
Randy looks surprised, if not a bit offended. “What? Of course you are.” he says. “Do you not believe me?”
Benson laughs at that. “Of course I believe you, Bambi. It’s just..shit, man. I don’t know.” His face had grown slightly flushed, an uncommon sight for Randy. He thinks for a moment, fitting the pieces together.
“So what then, are you like…into it or something?”
Benson averts his gaze and gestures vaguely, searching for the right words. “I don’t know… I guess I like feeling like I...claimed you, or broke you in or something. I guess that’s pretty fuckin’ sick.” It was something he had long felt conflicted about, this concept of Randy’s innocence. The blood in his brain losing that battle most days.
“It’s not.” Randy lifts his chin to look up at him. “I honestly think it’s pretty normal. Why even have a concept of virginity otherwise?”
Benson huffs, still feeling exposed and embarrassed. “Fine then, you must be into something weird, huh Randy?”
Randy’s eyebrows knit up. For all the time they’ve spent together, some things just haven’t been discussed.
“Well I uh, I don’t know…” Randy stalls, his turn to look away.
“C’mon.” Benson prods, gripping his arm a bit too tight. “And don’t give me none of that masochist shit I already know about either.”
Randy puts on a look of mock-hurt and Benson kisses the top of his head, tells him to fess up already. He looks up at the water stained ceiling, counts the tiles and makes constellations with the spots.
“Okay fine,” He starts. “I do have this fantasy.”
“Oh do go on.” Benson teases.
“It…it’s kind of embarrassing.” He says quietly, eyes still fixed straight ahead.
“Everything’s embarrassing, nothing’s embarrassing. Out with it already.” Benson says with a familiar impatient edge to his voice.
“I have this fantasy about getting passed around by a bunch of guys. Used, fucked, whatever. And maybe you’re watching. Maybe you lent me out to them…”
Benson feels himself bristle a bit, feels jealous and defensive on instinct.
“What, I’m not enough for you?” He spits.
“Benson no, of course you are. It’s just a fantasy. You’re the one who asked.”
Randy tries to reassure him. His jaw is still hard set when Randy finally looks over so he kisses him.
“I just want you.” he says looking him in the eyes. “You believe me right?”
“Yeah okay,” Benson sighs, truth be told he's a lot calmer than he used to be. “I believe you. But you’re a little freak, you know that?”
Randy blushes. “Thanks, I think?”
—-------------------
Once he had time to get over himself, Benson didn’t actually hate the idea. Even jerked off to it once or twice during his rare moments alone. Though it mostly faded into the background until they found themselves on the road again, needing to spend the week at a seedy truckstop motel.
The bathrooms by the gas station end of the lot were surprisingly spacious, even had showers and Benson had accidentally stumbled upon a bit of a scene there. He excused himself when he walked in on three strangers going at it under the weak water pressure, but it got him thinking. Just how serious was Randy about this little fantasy of his?
He toys with the idea for a few days, dropping hints. Telling Randy what he had seen in the windowless bathroom and watching the blush creep up his cheeks. Asks him in passing one night, “If you could do it for real, would you?”
Randy just about chokes on his bag of vending machine chips, sitting cross-legged on the unmade bed. He thinks for a minute and replies resolutely, “Yeah, yeah I would.”
Maybe he was learning to ask for what he wanted after all.
That was half the variables down but it still left Benson with a lot to figure out. He starts going on little walks to smoke where the truckers congregate. Leaning against the off-white concrete wall. He listens in on their conversations and reads the vulgar graffiti in between. Eventually he makes a little small talk. “Where ya from, how long you been doin’ this, must be a tough job - how do you unwind?”
Not exactly subtle but Benson was never really known for subtlety anyway. Some were friendly enough, some eyed him suspiciously. Eventually one of them crushes a cigarette butt under his tattered boot and asks “So what’s the deal with you and that pretty little blond?”
Benson keeps his face as neutral as possible. “Funny you should ask…”
—----------------
Ultimately he had found 2 guys who were down, didn’t have to get right back on the road and didn’t give him the fuckin’ creeps. He was trying to help Randy have a little harmless fun, not wind up on an episode of cold case files.
They hadn’t exchanged names, just set a time and a place, a couple of ground rules.
That night Benson walks a nervous Randy over to the far side of the lot, hand resting on the small of his back. They stop outside a nondescript metal door with a sign that looks like it used to say “Men” but hasn’t for a while now.
“You sure you wanna do this?” Benson asks. “Can still change your mind.”
“No, I want to. I’m sure.” Randy tells him as he pulls open the door and steps into the harsh fluorescent lighting.
The place looks empty at a glance but they hear voices echoing off the walls as they step further inside. Past the stalls and into the shower area - which Randy thinks looks like a cross between a highschool locker room and a prison. It makes his stomach twist, but he likes the implications. The two men are standing right where they said they would be, shooting the shit against the back wall.
They’re definitely older than Randy but not old-old. Late 30’s, early 40’s? Hard to say. The first one has dark stubble and tanned skin. A baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His build is solid but not particularly tall. His hands are in the pockets of his well-worn jeans and Randy studies his muscular forearms.
The second man looks older. Unkempt brown hair and a long beard. Physically larger overall, broad shoulders and big hands. His open flannel shirt betrays an obvious bulge in his pants when he gestures broadly with his right arm.
The conversation dies down when they’re spotted. Benson and both the men exchange a cursory nod. Randy feels eyes sweep over his thin frame like hands groping in the dark.
The man in the hat wolf-whistles at him. “Looks even better up close.”
“Prettier than any I had in a while.” replies the man with the beard.
Randy takes a cautious step forward like a fawn still learning how to use its new spindly legs. Benson puts a hand between his shoulders and shoves him into the center of the space. He cocks an eyebrow at him.
“Go on, give ‘em what I promised.”
Randy offers a nervous little smile as he’s approached from either side. A hand on his shoulder, one in his hair, one cupping him through his pants. The man with the hat starts to pull Randy’s shirt off and he lifts his arms to oblige. It’s cold in the room and he’s shaking ever so slightly.
“Aw baby, you nervous? We’ll treat ya real nice.”
The two men exchange a laugh.
“I’m not - I’m not nervous.” Randy says. But he can feel his heartbeat in his chest like a trapped bird.
From his perch on the back wall Benson calls out that he’s always like that, shaking like a leaf.
They tell him to strip and he obeys in a hurry, the only one so exposed this soon.
“You want him first?” The shorter man asks his friend.
“Nah,” replies the other. “I need a minute. You go ahead and warm him up for me.”
Randy yields to the hands pressing on his shoulders and feels his knees hit the cool tile floor. The man above him unzips his pants and takes his half-hard cock out, stroking himself while Randy watches, mouth watering. He’s only ever done this with Benson before. He looks up into dark eyes with trepidation as he parts his lips.
“He’s got an awful gag reflex,” Benson tells the guy. “Been trying to train it out of him but we got a long way to go.”
Randy feels indignant, ignores him and licks a long stripe up the underside of the cock above him. He tastes the distinct tang of fresh sweat and doesn’t really mind. The man tangles a rough hand in his curls and yanks his head back, slaps him across the face.
“That alright?” He asks - to Benson, not Randy.
Benson snorts, still leaning on the wall, arms crossed. “Yeah, he fuckin’ loves that shit.”
Randy already feels so turned on and so lightheaded he thinks he might faint. The man above him laughs at Benson’s answer, showing a sharp flash of teeth. He presses both hands to the back of Randy’s skull, slowly pushing his cock into his mouth. Randy stretches his lips and swirls his tongue around the head like Benson taught him. The man moans low in his throat and thrusts shallowly into Randy’s mouth.
He works what he can’t take with his hands and tries to breathe through his nose. Eventually the guy hits the back of his throat, pressing his face into coarse black hair. He stays dead still for a second, pulls back a bit and does it again. Randy gags and sputters, his eyes start to tear. He tries to be good for as long as he can but finally he has to tap out, silently begging for a break. He pulls back and lets Randy catch his breath and spit on the floor, slaps his cock against his cheek.
“You alright?” Benson asks.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” Randy croaks in response, his throat already feeling raw.
The man in the hat nods to his friend, “You wanna get in on this or what?”
The one with the beard has long since unzipped his pants but he shrugs off his flannel now. Orange and black pooling carelessly on the damp floor. Randy hears the fall of steel toed boots as the larger man steps forward.
“Can I fuck him?” He asks, again to Benson, not to Randy. It kinda gets him off, being ignored like this.
Randy looks over to Benson who flashes him a little smile and a wave.
“Do your worst.” He tells the guy.
Calloused hands haul him up from behind and direct him to a bench on the far side of the wall of shower heads. As he’s bent over, Randy catches a glimpse of those hands, soot and oil under his nails. He smells strongly of it, tobacco too. Different from Benson’s brand - he can tell. Large, rough palms travel down his back to grip his ass. Hard enough to elicit a whine and both men laugh at him again.
“Bet he’s a real good time.” The larger one says to Benson, who simply replies
“Yeah, that’s why I keep him around.”
Randy hears the distinct snap of a plastic cap and feels a slick finger press into him with no real warning. He thinks about the dirt under the man’s nails and presses his palms harder into the old wood of the bench. He watches the shorter man in front of him touch himself and stare down from under the brim of his hat. God, he’s not sure he’s ever been this into anything in his whole life, dripping pre cum on the floor.
Randy arches his back and whines. Benson laughs and calls him a slut as another thick finger presses into him. A hand from behind coils tightly in his hair and he leans back against the one working him open. Discomfort gives way to pleasure,still with the hint of a burn.
When he feels those fingers withdraw and both hands move to still his narrow hips, he thinks idly about how he hasn’t even seen what he’s in for yet. And maybe that’s a good thing cause his eyes go wide as he feels the head of this stranger’s cock start to press in. Definitely thicker than Benson. Holy shit. Randy drops his head and grits his teeth.
Fingers dig into his hip bones as shallow, firm thrusts feel like they might split him in half. His mouth falls open, panting, shaky. When the guy finally bottoms out Randy can’t hold back a pained whimper. He meets Benson’s ever-watchful gaze in time to see him take a half step forward. But Randy gives him a little nod, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead and Benson steps back. He watches him like a fox might watch a rabbit.
The man in front grabs Randy’s chin and turns him back, pressing his cock to his lips. Randy opens his mouth and hopes he does better this time. Just wants to please, just wants to be good.
Benson stares at Randy from the wall, fully naked between two mostly dressed men he’s only just met. Cock in his mouth, cock in his ass. He doesn’t feel jealous like he expected. He thinks Randy looks…busy and relaxed in a way he never really does. He was pretty sure the kid had fucking bees in his head most days.
Randy’s body moves like a ragdoll between the thrusts. The older guy has a curve to his dick that’s just right, has Randy whining around a full mouth. He hears himself gag, feels the tears prick his eyes and the spit drip down his chin, but honestly, he could stay here forever.
The guy in front cums first. Holding Randy’s head in place, telling him to be a good boy and swallow. He gives him an appreciative little slap on the cheek when he pulls out. Just enough to sting. Randy struggles to catch his breath. His lips are swollen and his throat is raw.
The man still fucking him picks up the pace and Benson is just delighted with the timing. He gets to hear those stuttered, high pitched moans spill from Randy’s lips unobstructed. The one in the front remarks that someone is gonna hear him and come in.
“Let ‘em,” Benson says, leaning back against the wall and stroking himself. “You’d like that wouldn’t you, Randy? For the whole damn place to see you like this.”
Randy manages a desperate little “mm-hmm.”
Benson hadn’t thought this would do much for him really, thought he was doing Randy a favor. But he gets himself off listening to Randy's moaning and the slap of skin against skin in the echoey room. Wonder’s how he got so lucky, wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Randy drops down on one elbow to reach back with his other hand and touch himself. It’s getting unbearable not to, feels like he’s been on the edge for hours. The other man’s thrusts nearly knock him off balance and he cums across his knuckles and the bench below with a strangled cry. His whole body clenches as the man with the oil stained hands follows quick behind him, burying himself balls deep with a bruising grip on Randy’s hips and a guttural groan.
He collapses when the guy pulls out, slipping to the floor like sludge. The two truckers clean themselves up while he sits there panting. They tell him thanks for a good time. He thinks one of them calls him princess but he can still hear his own blood whooshing in his ears. Maybe it is time for a haircut. One of them shakes Benson’s hand on the way out. What a weird world.
As soon as they’re alone Benson crouches next to him on the questionable floor.
“How do you feel?”
“Good,” Randy replies breathless. “And sore, and exhausted. Like I need a shower.”
“Good thing we’re already here.” Benson gestures.
Randy squints at him. “No way. Back in the room please.”
“Alright, come on.” Benson helps him up and gets him dressed.
Randy leans most of his weight on him on the walk back. The air is crisp and the stars are clear, the sounds of the highway not far off. They stop at the vending machine and Benson buys him a bottle of water and one of those shitty packaged honey buns. Lets him have a few drags off his cigarette, the cherry glowing red in the dark.
“Everything you hoped for?” Benson asks.
“Yeah.” Randy replies, head resting on his shoulder.
He has no idea what time it is when he’s finally showered and back in bed, doesn’t matter.
He’s got all day tomorrow to sleep.