Chapter Text
Yale is everything and nothing like Ben expects.
The fact that he even gets into Yale at all is a miracle--he’s not a legacy admission, nor is he athletic in the slightest, and he’s whiter than the paint on the picket fence in his parents front yard. But for some reason Yale wants him, the middle-class son of a minister and a school teacher.
Getting into Yale is a dream come true. Affording Yale, on the other hand, is a nightmare.
His parents might be comfortable but they're not rich by any means and Yale tuition is definitely out of their reach. The idea of spending the next thirty years of his life paying back his student loans is nauseating, and there's no way in hell he can get a campus job that will pay enough to make a dent in the sixty thousand dollar tuition bill.
Ben works his ass off over the summer and manages to write his way into a few scholarships; it’s enough to get him through half of his tuition for the year, but he’s still got the rest of the year to pay for, plus books and living expenses.
His money problems become even more of a factor once he moves into the dorms. It doesn’t help that his first introduction to the two guys living next door to him is listening to one of them talk about his summer in the Mediterranean, and how disappointing it was that the yacht was smaller than last year. Mercifully, Ben has a single and only has to interact with them if there’s a line for their shared bathroom, so he doesn’t have to pretend that he knows what it’s like to have a summer home in Italy or whatever it is that rich people do with their money.
And the more time he spends around his other classmates, the more Ben starts to realize that he doesn’t exactly fit in with the prep school crowd; his clothes are from Target, his smartphone is whatever he got for free with his cell plan, and the most traveling he’s done has been driving through most of the Northeast on his way to church youth group retreats in high school. In short, he’s got nothing in common with most of the people he’s surrounded by all day. It’s incredibly isolating.
Ben makes it through the first few weeks of classes by just keeping his head down and trying not to draw attention to himself. His parents call a few times to check on him and he fakes his way through the painfully awkward conversations (“everything's fine, I’m making friends, yes I’m eating something besides pizza”). The first time Caleb calls him, he’s a little less guarded.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he confides to his childhood best friend, leaning against the plain wooden headboard of his standard issue dorm bed. “I heard some kid yesterday talking about spending ten grand on a suite at the Beyonce concert. I can’t even afford to buy her album on iTunes.”
“You listen to Beyonce?” Caleb asks, his voice tinny through the speaker of Ben’s ancient phone.
Ben groans, his head falling back to hit against the headboard with a loud ‘thump’. “That’s not the point, Caleb! I shouldn’t be here.”
Caleb scoffs. “You deserve to be there more than any of the guys who got in just because six generations of their family have puked in a Yale toilet after shotgunning too many beers.”
“That’s a charming image,” Ben says dryly, but he can’t help but smile. Caleb’s always been good at pulling him out of a funk ever since they were kids, but tonight even Caleb's brand of humor can't quite flush away all the anxiety still lingering at the edges of his thoughts. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m not even sure I can pay next semester’s tuition.”
“You’ll figure it out.” Caleb's confidence in him is nice, but not exactly helpful. Ben opens his mouth to tell him so, but Caleb continues before he can speak. “Hell, if nothing else you could always do porn?”
Even though he’s alone in his dorm room, Ben feels his face turn bright red and he glances around, then hisses into the phone “I am not doing porn!”
“Hey, don’t knock it til you’ve tried it!” Before Ben can protest, Caleb laughs and says goodbye, hanging up and leaving Ben sputtering.
The idea of doing any sort of porn is outrageous and laughable, but for some reason it sticks in his mind for days afterward anyway. Maybe not actual sex-with-a-partner porn, because who would want to watch someone fuck a skinny, awkward nerd like him? But that’s not the only way to make cash with his body. And it’s not like he has any better ideas at this point.
Ben goes back and forth, warring with himself over the sheer stupidity of the idea before he finally looks up a few webcam sites--some are obviously just fronts for expensive porn subscriptions, but he stumbles across one that's actually seems less horrifying than he imagined. It has the ability to block certain states from being able to see a stream, which is a plus in Ben’s book: the last thing he needs is someone he knows finding him on a porn site.
A little judicious Google searching leads him to a support forum for cam models; it’s mostly geared at women, but there's a whole subforum just for male models and Ben spends an entire Tuesday night reading every thread he can find, to the point where he finds himself taking notes like this is some sort of class he's studying for and not him contemplating the idea of his own foray into amateur porn.
Getting started is deceptively easy--the hardest part turns out to be picking a username. Finally, after way too much time spent waffling over the decision, he settles on ‘Tallboy’ and signs up for an account. It’s a stupid name, but he refuses on principle to use anything that sounds too crass or blatantly pornographic. He’s already got a webcam on his laptop, and his suitemates are usually too busy out partying with their fellow rich kids to give a crap about Ben, so the only thing stopping him is his own (completely reasonable) hangups about people watching him get naked for money.
For some reason though, the longer he thinks about it, the less troubled he is by the thought of strangers jerking off to him--it’s not that much different from being a stripper, and he’s heard plenty of third-hand stories about girls stripping to put themselves through law school. If they can do it, why can’t he?
But it’s the email from the bursar’s office, reminding him that his first spring tuition payment is due in two weeks, that is the final boost of encouragement he needs. If it goes badly or he hates it, he can always try something else. But if he doesn’t at least try, he’s going to regret it. Especially if it means leaving Yale and give up on the one thing he’s always wanted.
Tomorrow, he decides. He’ll do his first show tomorrow.
-
Ben is so nervous that he almost doesn’t go through with it. Eventually, he makes a bargain with himself that he doesn’t have to get naked this first time; this is just a test run, a chance for him to figure out how things work so when he does it for real, he doesn’t look like a total loser.
He starts out fully dressed--just a soft, plain t-shirt and cargo shorts, nothing he wouldn’t normally wear. His hand shakes as he adjusts the camera, watching himself in the little video window on the screen until his upper body and face are in focus.
Pushing back the urge to just delete his account and pretend he never even considered this path, Ben clicks the little button on his screen to go live, and waits.
It's late afternoon, so he knows it'll be slow, but he feels awkward just sitting around doing nothing. He's got some music playing in the background so it's not totally silent, but he's still just sitting there, trying to ignore the churning nausea in his gut as his brain comes up with horrible scenarios for him to fret over.
A few users pop in and out of his chatroom so quickly he doesn't even have time to react, but eventually someone sticks around long enough to post “hey sexy” in the chat. It’s pretty cliche, but it’s the first interaction he’s had and Ben jumps on it.
“Hi there,” he says a little awkwardly, smiling at the camera and giving a little wave.
Another user pops in and drops a “show us ur dick :)” and Ben feels his cheeks heat up. It's not like he didn't know that sort of thing was coming, but having it actually directed at him is an entirely different experience.
“It's my first night,” he says, surprising himself by how flirty his voice sounds despite the way his stomach is twisting with nerves. “Maybe we'll start of slowly, let you all get to know me first.”
To his surprise, someone actually tips him for that and he feels a thrill race down his spine, eating away at the edge of the nausea. It’s only two dollars, but it's a start. “Thank you,” Ben says, peering at the username on the screen “...MrUncut58.”
His first tipper leaves a smiley face in the chat and just like that, something clicks in Ben’s brain and he finds himself settling into the role he's created for himself. He spends the next two hours casually chatting with the people who pop in and out of his chat, careful not to reveal anything that might lead back to his real identity. A few people leave small tips, especially when he reminds them all that he's still very new to this--it’s not much, but it gives Ben the confidence to continue.
Eventually someone tips him enough that he feels obligated to do something more than answer questions, and he rolls his chair back, giving the camera a good view as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. It's warm in his dorm room anyway, and it's not like he hadn't been shirtless in public before. This is just a little more public than he’s used to, that’s all.
There’s a slew of appreciative (and dirty) comments from the chat in response, and he laughs as he settles back into Q & A mode. The lack of shirt definitely brings more people into his chat but, unsurprisingly it also brings in some assholes and he has to use the ban function a few times to keep them from getting out of hand.
Ben only anticipated being online for an hour max, but by the end of hour two he's finally relaxed enough to be enjoying himself just a bit, so when someone tips him a more substantial amount and asks him to pinch his nipples, Ben doesn’t have to think too hard about obliging.
His eyes drift shut as he rolls one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, a little gasp escaping his lips before he can swallow it back. He's always had sensitive nipples, but there’s an extra thrill knowing that dozens of strangers are watching him that heightens the sensation even more.
He hears the soft chime noise that indicates another tip has come in, followed in rapid succession by a few more. Surprised, he opens his eyes again and looks at the list of tips on the screen. If just that little bit of touching got that much reaction...
“Wow, you guys really liked that huh?” He smiles at the camera, feeling a little giddy until he looks at the clock on his desk. It's well past time for him to sign off: he's supposed to meet up with his group for his intro to psych class for a study session in ten minutes on the other side of campus. “I did too. But that's all for tonight. I'll be back tomorrow though.”
Ignoring the protests from the couple dozen users in the chat, Ben says his goodbyes into the camera and turns it off, then checks his tip total again. Almost thirty dollars for two hours of just sitting around talking with his shirt off. Not bad for his first attempt.
He's semi-hard just from that little bit of playing but he's already going to be late for the study group, so he ignores his boner for now and puts his shirt back on. If he’s doing this cam thing to pay for college, he should probably actually study once and a while and not just jerk off all day.
--
Ben does two more shows before the weekend, each one about two hours long. To his surprise, he starts to recognize some of the usernames in the chat, the same people coming back to see him again and again. It’s oddly gratifying.
By the second show, he’s finally worked himself up to getting fully naked on camera, slowly jerking himself off between chatting with his viewers. He’s has been lazily edging himself for almost a half hour when a notification pops up on his screen, indicating that someone wants a private show.
The cam model forum he lurks on is full of stories about weird requests and creepy people asking for private shows, but as Ben skims the listed request, he’s pleasantly surprised.
[Work yourself up however you'd like, I just want to watch you come.]
It’s from someone new that he hasn't seen speak up in the chat yet, but it doesn't come with a request for a cam-to-cam which is something he’s still not wild about the idea of doing. Combined with the amount of money being offered (more than double what he’s made total so far), Ben doesn’t really have a good reason to turn it down.
He waves to the camera and tells the main chat he'll be back before taking a deep breath and flipping over to the private stream.
“Hi there,” Ben says, smiling shyly at the camera as he sits back in his desk chair, giving the camera a good view of his cock. It's gone a little soft as he's been distracted, but it won't take much to work himself back up again. He’s already getting a little excited just from the novelty of performing for someone one-on-one. “And thanks. You're my first private show, so I hope this is okay.”
He wraps his hand around his cock, giving it a few slow strokes to bring it back to full hardness as he lets his eyes drift shut for a moment. He's still very aware of the camera and that there's someone watching him, but it’s different performing for one stranger instead of hundreds. And it is a performance, no matter how much he finds himself actually getting into the exhibition aspect of being on camera.
It’s his first show and the guy (he assumes it’s a guy) dropped almost a hundred bucks to watch him jerk off, so Ben decides to give him his money’s worth; normally he’s pretty quiet when he does this on his own, mostly out of habit, but the privacy of his dorm room gives Ben some leeway to let himself get a little more vocal. He moans softly when he brushes his thumb across the head of his dick, swiping through the slick pre-cum that’s gathered; on a whim, he lifts his thumb to his open mouth and drags it across his tongue.
The ping of a message alert catches his attention and he glances back at the screen. The private show has it’s own chat, and there’s a message there for him from the guy who’s watching.
[You’re beautiful. Keep going, don’t be shy.]
Some day, he’ll stop blushing when somebody compliments him, but today isn’t that day. Ben flashes another shy smile at the camera and wraps his fingers around his cock again, spreading his legs wider in the chair as he starts to stroke himself again. He catches a glimpse of himself in the video window on the screen and it feels like he’s looking at someone else; his eyes are half closed, mouth half-open, his hips thrusting upward as he fucks his own fist.
He doesn’t know why, but he’s getting even more turned on watching himself on the screen. And he’s definitely not the only one enjoying it--his audience of one leaves him message after message in the chat box.
[That’s right, touch yourself]
[Don’t stop, let me hear you]
[Come for me, beautiful boy.]
The last message is what tips him over the edge; choking on a moan, Ben’s eyes slam shut as he comes hard and messy, painting streaks across his stomach and chest. It takes him a minute or so to settle, shaking a little from the surprising intensity of his orgasm, but he finally comes down enough to crack one eye open when he hears the notification sound from the chat again.
[That was stunning. Thank you.]
“No, thank you,” Ben says, a little breathless. And he really is honestly grateful; he had expected much more vulgarity or uncomfortable requests, so to have someone who seemed perfectly content to just watch Ben and encourage him to get off is a relief. “That was a really nice way to end my night.”
[Well, then I’m glad I could help. Enjoy the rest of you evening, tallboy.]
“You too.” Ben makes a mental note of the guy’s screenname, Virginia2202, and hopes (pathetically) that he comes back to Ben’s room again. If he can get one or two decent guys to be kind to him in a sea full of freeloaders and creeps, it’ll go a long way towards making this whole cam model thing worth it.