Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Blackout - Reflections	By : BrixtonShade Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Savage Garden Views: 863 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Savage Garden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Blackout - Reflections
- 1
Author: Lau
Rating: NC-17, Lee POV
Disclaimer: I don't own Ben or Lee, but imitation is the highest form of compliment.
Note: This takes place at the exact same time as "Blackout - Shadows."
Archive: Please tell me where, first
Feedback: Yes please! Jaded0713@aol.com

I was out on the balcony.

It was beautiful, letting the rain needle down on my face, my bare torso, feeling my ratty jeans slowly glue themselves to my thighs. The denim shaded darker and darker the longer I sat there, changing me. All the lights were out in the room behind me, the only light from the buildings surrounding me and the street, stories below.

So when it happened, it was unexpected, but detached. It felt as though it were happening all around me, but that I remained untouched. It was a solidifying thought, and it warmed me against the stinging nettles of raindrops. I watched lights extinguished in a wave, starting with my building and rippling outward like a surge of radiation from a war film. Soon the city was black for a mile in each direction, and only at the horizon could pinpricks of yellow be seen.

Lightening cracked, fizzling in the sky, and I let my head fall back to wait for the thunder. I could feel it rumble through the metal chair I sat in, the vibration making my wet skin tingle.

I wondered if my fillings would melt my teeth together if I was electrocuted.

I stretched my legs out from where they'd been tucked under me and set my bare feet flat against the wet pavement. I could feel my calves beginning to soak through, too. My fingers drummed restlessly upon my thighs, feeling the slight squish of the dark blue material under my cold, wet fingers, but I didn't move. I couldn't move. This had to work.

It was an experiment, you see. Ben had gone to Karl's room to watch movies. I had gone outside to watch the rain. So either Ben was going to spend the blacked-out night at Karl's, or he was going to come back here. If Ben comes back, it means he's finally ready to face me. Lee The Boyfriend, not Lee The Easy Fuck.

The door.

My grin seared the sky with another bolt of lightening. My back is to the glass of the sliding door, but I can almost see him searching the room for me. I can hear the door in its groove, being pushed back, and suddenly there's a flashlight beam on the concrete ground next to me. It sweeps back and forth, finally comes to rest on my back. I can feel it burning over the waterdrops that roll off my body.

I let my head loll back and squint from the light. "Turn that off."

"Come inside," Ben said quietly.

"I like it out here," I protested, watching his upside-down figure in the doorway. The room seemed black behind him. A green flashlight cast a pool of daylight onto the stone. "Besides, I'm soaked to the bone. I'll just get everything all wet."

"Come inside, please," Ben amended.

I right my head so that he's no longer in my view, and look out over the city. "Why did you go to Karl's room toni"
"

"Practice," Ben answered. He wasn't being clipped or short, he was just being himself. Ben could be a man of few words. I was not.

"Practice," I sneered to the rainfilled sky. Staring straight up, the drops seemed to stab right down toward me. "Why would you want to practice, so soon after the concert?"

"New idea. Needed someone t'hear it."

"Why not me, Ben?" I said quietly, my voice lost in the rain pattering on the balcony. "Why never me? I'm a musician too, you know."

"Come inside," Ben said a third time, and the voice made me jump, because suddenly it was right next to me. I looked up, and there was Ben, standing beside my chair, melded in the shadows, raindrops spattering his black tee-shirt and pressing down his hair.

I reluctantly rose, pooled water cascading off my body, and followed the bouncing flashlight beam back into the hotel room. Ben slid the door shut behind me, and looked me over. "Y'might want to change before you catch cold," he suggested. I nodded, hesitantly, and rummaged through the luggage for a clean pair of pants. After so many hotel stays, we don't bother to unpack anymore.

I began to peel off my sodden pants and Ben turned away, awkwardly staring at his own bag. The blatant dismissal gave me pause, sent me supporting myself against the dresser, my back to him. I looked up and met my own anguished eyes in the mirror, setting my jaw in anger and averting my gaze. The man in the mirror was pathetic. The man in the mirror was soaked through the bone, wearing only wet, white underoos. And the man in the mirror was about to cry.

My knuckles turned white from gripping the dresser. I would not cry. If this was the way things had to be, with Ben thinking I was disgusting, then fine. No matter. It had just been a meaningless fuck, I could deal with that. I stared at the grooves of time made in the wood beneath my palms. Problem was, I was hoping that this time, maybe...just maybe, Ben would be the one.

A teardrop of rainwater fell onto the wood. I stared at it in shock, watching it catch the reflections from the lightening and flashlight, and wondering how I had possibly betrayed my promise to not cry. No, no, not tears. Just rain.

That was when I noticed the flashlight had moved, and Ben was wrapping a fluffy white towel around my shoulders, holding me tight against his body. The man in the mirror looked up at him in mild surprise.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I tried to not lean against him. "Nothing," I insisted. "Cold and wet."

He gave one of his charming smiles, full of not only teeth but a laughing glimmer in his eyes. "We can fix that." And he proceeded to rub me dry, brusquely scrubbing me with the rough terryfold material. I felt my outer cold gradually seep away, even as he was insisting I lift one foot and then the other and scouring up my legs and down my back.

It was when he was mopping through my wet hair that he spoke again.

"Now what's really wrong?" he asked in a secretive whisper, wrapping the towel and his arms around me again, his chin resting on my shoulder as we both studied my white-draped body in the mirror.

"Nothing," I insisted.

"Liar," he contended with a glamour of a smile. The flashlight made me feel under a spotlight, its brilliance reflecting a thousand times in the mirror.

"Turn off the light," I pleaded, a little desperately to my own ears.

With a little frown, Ben shifted away from me to reach foe gre green plastic. "Why?"

I was watching his hand intently, his thumb poised on the off switch. Hesitating. Damn him...I couldn't bare to stare into this glass anymore, see his beauty copied and pasted next to my own ugliness, my own mortality. It simply wasn't fair. I clutched the towel closer over my shoulders, huddling into it like a nightmare-ridden child. He was watching me for an answer and the machine of my mind was buzzing with excuses, reasons I knew he wouldn't believe anyway.

"I'm ugly."

In the split second it took for him to make the connection between the flashlight, the mirror, and my comment, I had shattered my remaining barriers and was proceeding to break my only promise to myself.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

And then he had me back in his arms. But it was too late, because my truth had finally been voiced, and it seemed all so much more horrible and precise out loud.

"Say something," I snuffled into his chest, feeling how his head rested against my own, his soft breath against my ear.

"Say something?" He sighed in resignation. "Lee, you're such a fool."

I squeezed my eyes shut and burrowed further into his embrace. Into the arms of the enemy. His head lifted and I could feel him staring down at me, though in adoration or maliciousness, I had no idea.

"Lee, look up," and before I could protest I felt myself being ripped from his embrace, spun again so I stood in front of the hated mirror, one of his hands on each of my thin shoulders. "What do y'see?"

At first I looked away, refusing to submit to this torture. But when I realized he would hold me there until eternity if I didn't answer his question, I forced myself to meet my own gaze in the mirror. "I look horrible," I said, and looked down again.

"That's not what I see," he insisted, sliding the towel away from my body. The cloth collapsed on the floor at my feet, and I studied the intricacies of its folds. His light touch on my shoulders shifted again as he stood right behind me.

"Your reflection isn't real, Lee," Ben insisted. "The only thing that's important is this." He patted my shoulder. "The truth. The reality. You're beautiful because you're you."

"I'm not," I insisted.

"How will you know if you never let yourself imagine it?" He dropped a soft kiss on my shoulder. "And imaginin' it makes it true." Ben paused a moment, looking down. "Still cold?"

"A little," I answered quietly.

A sharp smack on my ass made me yelp and I spun and looked at him with indignation.

"It's the underwear," he explained with a smirk. "They're wet."

I frowned at him, hating both that he was right and that he had been able to, even momentarily, make me forget my self-loathing.

"That's a clue to take 'em off," he said conspiratorially, stepping up, leaning me into a soft, warm kiss. His hand smoothed the skin at my hip where the offending article of clothing lay. "May I?" But I hadn't even formulated a protest when the damp fabric was suddenly gone, and I was bare to the world and my hate.

But Ben covered me again, with his own body, shifting me up against the dresser. I found myself looking in the mirror again. I watched, detached, as he was smoothing my hair, staring at me with a kind of adoration I hadn't ever been on the receiving end of.

"If you could only see what I see," he mourned quietly. He reached around me and tapped the glass. "This Lee can't feel it when I kiss him. Can't hear when speak, or see when I love. That's not the real Lee." His other hand came around to my front, strumming down my stomach muscles to anchor me to him at the waist. I quivered delightfully. "Be real. Be this one." He planted his lips right behind my ear, whispering touches down from there. "Don't be the reflection watching reality. I don't want reflections."

"You want me?" I rasped, his tirade finally registering. I twisted around so I could see him, not his double, for conformation.

"You even have to ask at this point?" He smiled wryly at me and grabbed one of my hands, pulling me sideways against him, placing my hand blatantly at his crotch, and pantomimed a pose. "Don't y'see what you do to me?" he demanded overdramatically, with a poorly hidden grin.

I smiled and gave him a risqué squeeze at the groin, at which his eyes narrowed and he captured his mouth in mine again.

Oh, the bliss that can pour from one man's lips.

He pulled away and urged me back around to study my own reflection again. "Look at that," he pointed to the mirror. "Do you still think that's ugly?"

I didn't answer.

"I have the pleasure of seeing that every day," he went on, nuzzling my neck, pressing up against me. Ben peeked up under one cocked eyebrow and spoke to my reflection. "And quite often, the *extreme* pleasure of seeing it at night."

I blushed. I actually blushed. Ben and I had only been together once...

"I dream about you," he whispered, studying my body, claiming it with his gaze. His hands slid, suddenly, from my shoulders to my hips in a delicious rustle of movement.

His words were working. A shiver rushed over my skin, a luscious tingle working its way out from the pads of his fingers. "You dream...?" I asked lamely, feeling a consolidation of the day's desire and torment flow through me.

"About you," he finished, with a good-natured squeeze at my waist. "Did you think last night was a fluke? You seemed to enjoy yourself..." His whisper was laced with mirth.

"I...I don't know." I really wasn't sure anymore. The night before, Ben and I had spent all hours exploring. So much so, it hurt to walk for most of the day today. But in the daylight, things are not always what they seem.

"You're beautiful," he said resolutely. "And I'm going to prove it to you, if you'll let me." His dry hand slid across my torso, gliding to cover my heart.

I said nothing.

"Please."

I looked up, his form framing my trifling structure. "What do you mean?" My body knew exactly what he meant.

"Let's reroute your bloodflow," he said in a clinical tone. I let out a noise in surprise when his lips attached to my throat and his hands began a dangerous pattern of stroking and teasing.

The world shifted as my eyes skimmed shut and my head dropped backwards to his shoulder. His touch sparked me, his hand lowered and...

Coherent thought fell away. I let out an angry hiss of approval.

"Look at yourself," he urged, lips pressed to my skin causing little vibrations when he spoke. He shrugged his shoulder to hoist my head, and I found myself staring at...

"Jesus, is that me?" I gaped and he laughed against me, his lips trailing down my shoulder again.

"You're amazing," he promised, and continued his mind numbing ministrations below my waist. "Didn't I say? All short of breath, hair screwy, everything gone awry. You're edible."

"Your own damn fault," I managed before my head slid back again. It was too much. His smell, his touch, his voice, so fast...I was drowning in Ben.

"The lube," he said urgently, and his voice made my hips buck into his hand. I grappled with my eyes closed for the small bag I knew was somewhere on the far end of the dresser.

"You packed it?" he said with agitation as I finally secured and handed over the tube.

"I didn't think-" I stammered helplessly, just praying he wouldn't stop.

"I know," he said, pressing a kiss to my throat. "Don't worry about it."

And then he fell silent, working one handed magic, losing clothing and applying the lubricant. A momentary pause which disrupted his rhythm was disregarded; I was too far gone to notice anything but direct touch. Not that there was a shortage of such.

And suddenly his hardness was in place of his cold fingertips, and I was filled with reality. My eyes shot open for the umpteenth time that night, but finally, finally, the man in the mirror was gone. Ben withdrew slowly and moved forward again with agonizing timidity, and in that moment time snapped. It was Lee Novak's face who contorted in pain and pleasure, and Lee Novak's body that was now slung over the dresser.

I was the man in the mirror. Me.

In a charge of arousal and completion, sensations came rushing together. Ben sheathed himself again, luring me along with his other hand, and all leisure disappeared from our actions.

I watched and felt as he sped along, my body matching his need to prove to me that I wasn't ugly

He wanted me.

I was more real than the reflection.

"Lee-" he grated with a thrust, and I sucked in a startled breath.

"I know," I gasped, gripping the edge of the dresser again, our weight throwing it comically against the wall again and again.

"I'm-"

"Come," I begged. The word alone was enough to set him off, but with a growl of denial he instead quickened his now slick hand along my erection.

"Together," he demanded...and I had no more argument.

"Oh, God..." I managed, arching against the cold, wooden countertop one last time as Ben's grip tightened at last and I released indulgently into his caress.

He let out a small cry and I felt myself filled again with his warmth, my inner chill finally gone, as well as the outer. He slumped against me, gasping quietly.

"Ben?" I asked.

"Ya.." he accomplished with effort.

"Thank you," I finished.

He struggled to lift his head off my shoulder and looked my reflection in the eye. "No more a' this ugliness, then?"

I smiled. "I don't know, I'm not entirely convinced..."

He hooked me around the waist and dragged me away from the mirror, toward one of the beds. "Might be time to convince you, then," he pledged, and kissed me softly.

.end.
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Blackout - Reflections