Behind Closed Doors Fic: The Team - Ben POV (1 of 3)
Length: About 1200 words
Rating: R
Summary: It's the night before the debate, and Leslie has a few things to work out.
She stretches out underneath him, lazily. “Mmmmm, that feels good.”
He shifts his hands, keeps touching her. “Give it to me again,” he murmurs.
He doesn’t so much hear her chuckle as feel it. “Again?”
“Yup.”
Her face is buried in the pillow, but she doesn’t hesitate, and her rhythm and pacing are bang-on.
“I am Leslie Knope. I love this town, and I've worked my whole life to make it great. I believe that I've earned your vote. Bobby Newport believes he can buy it.”
Ben leans into her lower back a little, gently, letting the muscles release beneath the heels of his hands. “I think you’ve got it. Although maybe with a little more energy on the stage.”
She chuckles. “And maybe a few more clothes on?”
“Hah. Yes. Well, maybe.”
She’s stretched out on her front, with Ben sitting half on her ass, half on his heels. She’s still wearing the yoga pants she changed into after their last campaign appearance this evening, but she’s naked from the waist up. He’s in his undershirt and boxer-briefs, his suit already back in his closet, his tie hanging off his chair, still knotted. The bedclothes are still smooth underneath them, because Ben likes to make his bed in the morning and they haven’t been had a chance to get back in here since 6 am.
Their phones are charging on his desk, and finally silent, but just because they’ve turned them off, even though it’s past midnight. The house is quiet, still, waiting.
He loves to look at her back. He loves to look at her front too, of course, but at times like this, he really appreciates the chance to see her stretched out below him, and he really does love her back. So smooth, with its pale golden glow and the strength of the muscle and bone beneath. Sometimes in the mornings, if he wakes up first, he just lets his fingers play against it, stroking it, as he watches it rise and fall with her breath, until he can’t wait any longer to wake her up. She’s got a few freckles, and a couple of smooth moles, almost symmetrical, between her waist and her shoulderblade, one on the left and one on the right. Right now his hands are reddening her flesh a little, but that doesn’t last long.
Something is achingly intimate, to him, about him getting to see this part of her that even she can’t see.
He wouldn’t say it out loud, at the risk of sounding like Chris, but he finds it almost meditative to give her a backrub. He watches as his hands cover most of her back, spanning across her ribcage. He concentrates just on how she feels beneath him, and what her body can tell him about how she’s really doing, and gradually all his other preoccupations, his other thoughts, fade into the background until there’s just the two of them, her warm beneath him, and him feeling more and more connected to her, wanting to make her feel good.
Usually he winds up wanting to make her feel even better. She’s ready for the debate, he’s ready for the debate, and together they have thrown everything they can into this. So now all that remains is to get a good night’s sleep.
And what’s the best way to accomplish that? Go to bed happy and relaxed, obviously. He smiles to himself.
“Umph, Ben, tomorrow....” Her voice trails off, muffled by the pillow.
“Getting nervous?” He can feel the tension here, behind her left shoulder blade. He concentrates on one particular knot.
“No, not exactly... it’s just...”
He shifts to the other side, digs a bit under her shoulder blade. There. “There’s a lot riding on it?”
She sighs. “Yeah. Most of the time I feel fine about it, but...”
He finds the knot, using his thumbs and pressing down to apply the right kind of pressure, gently but firmly. He feels it release just a bit, and eases back, starts to massage around it.
“Look, Leslie, you’ve got this. Just focus on the message and think about connecting with the people in the audience, the people at home. You can set the pace. You get out front early, ahead of the rest of the pack, and let Bobby try to catch up, but then you’ll just kick a little dirt in his face as you round the bend to the tape.”
“Ben, oh my god.”
“What?” He’s stopped tackling the knots and is now working on easing out her muscles with long, smooth strokes, from the bottom of her ribs all the way up to her neck.
“Your sports metaphors. They’re so hot.”
He’s started making small movements with his fingers up and down her neck, so he leans forward and speaks softly into her ear, “Really? I didn’t realize that.”
She chuckles. “Liar.”
He stays near and kisses her neck again, still massaging her shoulders. He props himself on his elbows for balance, and he’s close enough that his t-shirt is drifting across her back. He can feel the warmth of her breath now. He sweeps her hair up so he can kiss the nape of her neck, and then starts kissing her in a line that stretches down her neck and across her shoulders.
He stops even pretending he’s actually massaging her any more, and lets his hands caress her. He slides his hands down her sides slowly, his fingers running alongside her breasts, feeling her shiver as he does. She shifts a little, as if to invite him to slide his hands underneath, but he keeps on going, kissing his way down her spine.
When he gets to her pants, he hooks his thumbs into them and keeps going, and she moves so he can take everything off by sliding his hands down, down over her hips and along her outer legs until she’s naked beneath him.
He kisses himself up the backs of her legs, and he then strips off his own remaining clothes, and settles himself over her inch by inch, his knees between hers so her legs bend a little and he can feel himself getting damp between them. The weight of his body rests against hers, his warmth pushing against her, but her rising to meet him, somehow.
He props himself a little on his elbows and extends his hands along her arms, sliding his fingers into hers and bringing his lips back to the nape of her neck.
He can see that her smile is broad, although her eyes are still closed. “So, Mr. Campaign Manager, is our official workday over then?”
“Well, I think all that remains is our official duty to get a good night’s sleep.”
“Oh, so it’s time to go to sleep?”
“Well, I didn’t say that.”
“What are you saying?”
Not much more, as it turns out.
(At least not much more that’s in complete sentences, he thinks to himself a little while later.)
The next scene in the sequence (Leslie POV) is here.
The next Ben POV Scene is here.
Rating: R
Summary: It's the night before the debate, and Leslie has a few things to work out.
She stretches out underneath him, lazily. “Mmmmm, that feels good.”
He shifts his hands, keeps touching her. “Give it to me again,” he murmurs.
He doesn’t so much hear her chuckle as feel it. “Again?”
“Yup.”
Her face is buried in the pillow, but she doesn’t hesitate, and her rhythm and pacing are bang-on.
“I am Leslie Knope. I love this town, and I've worked my whole life to make it great. I believe that I've earned your vote. Bobby Newport believes he can buy it.”
Ben leans into her lower back a little, gently, letting the muscles release beneath the heels of his hands. “I think you’ve got it. Although maybe with a little more energy on the stage.”
She chuckles. “And maybe a few more clothes on?”
“Hah. Yes. Well, maybe.”
She’s stretched out on her front, with Ben sitting half on her ass, half on his heels. She’s still wearing the yoga pants she changed into after their last campaign appearance this evening, but she’s naked from the waist up. He’s in his undershirt and boxer-briefs, his suit already back in his closet, his tie hanging off his chair, still knotted. The bedclothes are still smooth underneath them, because Ben likes to make his bed in the morning and they haven’t been had a chance to get back in here since 6 am.
Their phones are charging on his desk, and finally silent, but just because they’ve turned them off, even though it’s past midnight. The house is quiet, still, waiting.
He loves to look at her back. He loves to look at her front too, of course, but at times like this, he really appreciates the chance to see her stretched out below him, and he really does love her back. So smooth, with its pale golden glow and the strength of the muscle and bone beneath. Sometimes in the mornings, if he wakes up first, he just lets his fingers play against it, stroking it, as he watches it rise and fall with her breath, until he can’t wait any longer to wake her up. She’s got a few freckles, and a couple of smooth moles, almost symmetrical, between her waist and her shoulderblade, one on the left and one on the right. Right now his hands are reddening her flesh a little, but that doesn’t last long.
Something is achingly intimate, to him, about him getting to see this part of her that even she can’t see.
He wouldn’t say it out loud, at the risk of sounding like Chris, but he finds it almost meditative to give her a backrub. He watches as his hands cover most of her back, spanning across her ribcage. He concentrates just on how she feels beneath him, and what her body can tell him about how she’s really doing, and gradually all his other preoccupations, his other thoughts, fade into the background until there’s just the two of them, her warm beneath him, and him feeling more and more connected to her, wanting to make her feel good.
Usually he winds up wanting to make her feel even better. She’s ready for the debate, he’s ready for the debate, and together they have thrown everything they can into this. So now all that remains is to get a good night’s sleep.
And what’s the best way to accomplish that? Go to bed happy and relaxed, obviously. He smiles to himself.
“Umph, Ben, tomorrow....” Her voice trails off, muffled by the pillow.
“Getting nervous?” He can feel the tension here, behind her left shoulder blade. He concentrates on one particular knot.
“No, not exactly... it’s just...”
He shifts to the other side, digs a bit under her shoulder blade. There. “There’s a lot riding on it?”
She sighs. “Yeah. Most of the time I feel fine about it, but...”
He finds the knot, using his thumbs and pressing down to apply the right kind of pressure, gently but firmly. He feels it release just a bit, and eases back, starts to massage around it.
“Look, Leslie, you’ve got this. Just focus on the message and think about connecting with the people in the audience, the people at home. You can set the pace. You get out front early, ahead of the rest of the pack, and let Bobby try to catch up, but then you’ll just kick a little dirt in his face as you round the bend to the tape.”
“Ben, oh my god.”
“What?” He’s stopped tackling the knots and is now working on easing out her muscles with long, smooth strokes, from the bottom of her ribs all the way up to her neck.
“Your sports metaphors. They’re so hot.”
He’s started making small movements with his fingers up and down her neck, so he leans forward and speaks softly into her ear, “Really? I didn’t realize that.”
She chuckles. “Liar.”
He stays near and kisses her neck again, still massaging her shoulders. He props himself on his elbows for balance, and he’s close enough that his t-shirt is drifting across her back. He can feel the warmth of her breath now. He sweeps her hair up so he can kiss the nape of her neck, and then starts kissing her in a line that stretches down her neck and across her shoulders.
He stops even pretending he’s actually massaging her any more, and lets his hands caress her. He slides his hands down her sides slowly, his fingers running alongside her breasts, feeling her shiver as he does. She shifts a little, as if to invite him to slide his hands underneath, but he keeps on going, kissing his way down her spine.
When he gets to her pants, he hooks his thumbs into them and keeps going, and she moves so he can take everything off by sliding his hands down, down over her hips and along her outer legs until she’s naked beneath him.
He kisses himself up the backs of her legs, and he then strips off his own remaining clothes, and settles himself over her inch by inch, his knees between hers so her legs bend a little and he can feel himself getting damp between them. The weight of his body rests against hers, his warmth pushing against her, but her rising to meet him, somehow.
He props himself a little on his elbows and extends his hands along her arms, sliding his fingers into hers and bringing his lips back to the nape of her neck.
He can see that her smile is broad, although her eyes are still closed. “So, Mr. Campaign Manager, is our official workday over then?”
“Well, I think all that remains is our official duty to get a good night’s sleep.”
“Oh, so it’s time to go to sleep?”
“Well, I didn’t say that.”
“What are you saying?”
Not much more, as it turns out.
(At least not much more that’s in complete sentences, he thinks to himself a little while later.)
The next scene in the sequence (Leslie POV) is here.
The next Ben POV Scene is here.