fic: battery operated, leslie/ben, nc-17
title: Battery Operated
author:
shornt
pairing: Leslie/Ben
rating: NC-17
words: ~2600
notes: In response to this kink prompt: "Ben finds Leslie's vibrator. She's embarrassed, but he asks her to show him how she uses it to make herself get off." So um. This is unapologetic porn. And I've written plenty of kink fic but never posted it under my name so this is weird for me but why not. Thank you fairytiger for the usual.
So, it’s not like Ben’s never seen a vibrator before.
There was that one time in college when Stacy -- the quiet brunette from advanced calculus -- shyly took out a silver bullet from her dresser in the heat of the moment, causing Ben’s hands to shake so much that he broke it.
There was that one time when Chris, upbeat and always sex-positive (“Sex does wonders for your skin, Ben!”), dragged Ben into some dive of a sex shop in southern Indiana to buy something for his latest fling, walking past oddly shaped contractions that looked like they belonged anywhere but a woman’s... place. Animal shaped? Really?
And that awful time where he opened the wrong bathroom cabinet only to be met with more than one of April’s “things.”
So, yes. He’s seen a vibrator before. He just isn’t prepared to see one amidst the mismatched ceramic mugs in Leslie’s unorganized kitchen cabinets bright and early in the morning.
He pauses, hand in midair to reach for a mug. What do you... do in this situation? Does he ignore it and close the door and grab a mug that’s right on the same shelf as a vibrator? Does she know it’s there? Will she know he saw it? Good lord, he had no idea --
He notes that, thankfully, it’s not some crazy spinning contraption with a rodent head. Just a slim, bright orange... thing. It’s kind of cute, in its simplicity. Is that a thing? Can he think his girlfriend’s vibrator is cute? That’s normal, right?
In the back of his mind, he realizes that he’s been frozen in front of the cabinet for probably a good minute or two. And the noise of Leslie getting ready for breakfast behind him comes to an abrupt stop.
“Uh, Ben?” she asks, voice too chipper for seven in the morning. “What’s up? There’s not a mouse or something in there, is there? That’s happened before--”
His nose scrunches up in horror at the thought, and suddenly his mind snaps and he slams the cabinet shut.
“Nope. Nothing... to see here. Nothing. It’s all good.” She gives him a wary look.
“Well, you didn’t get a mug! I just put the coffee on, so.” And she sidles past him with a confused smile, opening the cabinet back up. She reaches in for a mug and suddenly her eyes go wide. “Say... Ben, you didn’t, uhh--”
“I did.” His head nods sharply and strangely, a bit of his mussed hair bobbing with the movement.
“Oh.” He cheeks are tinted pink, and she starts babbling, starts giving excuses that don’t really make sense. “You know, it’s not -- I just thought that the color was, like, and does it even have batteries in it, I don’t -- there was this knot in my back, see, and I needed to, I mean why are you even looking through my cabinets, don’t you need a warrant? And it’s not even mine, it’s -- a friend gave it to me, and I put it there because -- Ann said that all ladies do it, and I -- but I’ve never used it, hardly even seen it --”
“Leslie,” he interrupts, unable to avoid the smile creeping onto his face. “It’s fine. Forget about it.”
“Forget about it. Right.”
---
Except Ben does anything but.
Leslie goes off to work and he hangs around her house to work on her campaign stuff, lots of numbers and poll results and usually that helps him clear his mind a little more.
But all he can think about is how the cabinet in the next room has a VIBRATOR in it. Unless Leslie moved it. Maybe she did when he wasn’t looking. Breakfast escalated into a heated debate about the merits of sausage links versus bacon, both looking to change the subject so badly that they latched on to the first thing that came along, but then Leslie had to rush out the door and had she ever been out of eyesight?
He reads the same line of data ten times before his curiosity gets the better of him.
The squeak of his weight against the linoleum in her kitchen startles him, and his hands shoot up like he’s being found by the police. But its not even noon, no one’s home, and he isn’t going to get arrested for poking around Leslie’s kitchen. Right?
It’s still there, though she shoved it behind a chipped Hoosiers mug in the back corner. He turns the cookie monster mug nearby so it isn’t staring at him -- he is doing nothing wrong.
But really. In the kitchen? Was she... doing that, in the kitchen? It sends an unexpected thrill up his spine. She spends nights with him most of the time, but sometimes she gets out of bed after he’s fallen asleep... sometimes she has to come back for work in the morning when she’s at his place, and... well, okay. Maybe she could have in the kitchen. But how...? On the floor? In a chair, on the table? And suddenly his mind fills with the image of Leslie writhing on the dining room table alone, those little whimpers she makes echoing...
Oh god. This is not good. He starts walking in furious circles around the house, willing the strain in his jeans to go away, thinking about Li’l Sebastian and hockey and the most recent episode of Doctor Who, anything to get his mind off that vibrator.
An hour later, he looks again. Still there.
An hour after that, he stops himself with his hand on the cabinet.
Two hours later, he sets it carefully on the kitchen table, then sits down to stare at it. It’s smooth and feels kind of silky, and it’s definitely heavy enough to have batteries in it. His hand reaches for the battery case to look, but he accidentally twists the power instead of the cap and suddenly it comes to life in his hands. He drops it and shoves it across the table, where it knocks over a salt shaker that’s actually full of sugar and continues buzzing.
Looking around frantically, he bolts across the table to turn it off, shoving it back in the cabinet and cleaning up the mess. He goes back to his work, vows to stay out of the kitchen for the rest of the day, and buries himself in Knope 2012 business to keep him occupied.
Eventually his stomach growls. He knows Leslie hides candy in various places around the house, but it’s never in the same place twice and she doesn’t divulge all the secrets of her clutter (clearly). So he has to go to the kitchen, right?
He takes out the vibrator, turns it over in his hand, and studies it. Turns it on just a little, then all the way up (good lord), decides that it’s probably a nice... thing. To have. Thinks about Leslie using it when he isn’t around, can’t decide if he feels weird or turned on about that.
No, wait. Definitely turned on. Shit.
He places it on the counter next to the espresso machine and goes to grab his cell phone to tell Leslie they’ll be eating out tonight. He can’t... think about the kitchen correctly right now. She agrees immediately, of course, with several exclamation points and a smiley face. Two minutes later, he loses the battle with himself.
‘So how did that... end up in the kitchen?’ he texts, hitting send before he can stop himself. They should be able to talk about this stuff, right? It’s not a big deal.
‘I thought we were forgetting about that. What happened to forgetting about that? I supported the forgetting.’
‘Leslie.’
It’s five minutes before she answers him again.
‘I, uh. Used it?’
His breath quickens a little.
‘Where?’
‘God, Ben, I think in my chair? Why?’
He hurries into the kitchen and looks at her chair, the innocent cushion and the dark wood. His fingers shake as he types his next message.
‘Show me. When you get home.’
Ten minutes go by.
‘Okay.’
---
JJs doesn’t happen.
Leslie gets home and greets him with a peck on his cheek, then disappears upstairs with some excuse about a plan for a new park map at Ramsett. She then runs back and forth with pictures she retrieves from all over the house, asking Ben to make something to eat and unintentionally brushing against his hip.
But as she goes on a wild goose chase for some photograph of the Ramsett duck pond, the touches start to feel... less unintentional. Is she being coy? He barricades himself in the kitchen and starts a pot of pasta, confused. She stops bothering him for a while, so as he sets the table, he maybe sets the vibrator amidst the Parmesan cheese and likely-to-be-ignored bowl of salad.
After a sprinkle from the salt shaker, Leslie wolfs down half her pasta before the glint of orange catches her eye. Ben’s been watching her carefully, eyes on her as he spins noodles onto his fork and tries not to stain his shirt with marinara. And he tracks the exact moment that her eyes move to the salad in disgust, and then to the left of it in quiet surprise.
She keeps eating. Finishes her plate way before him but plunks his into the sink anyway, clears off the table and leaves the vibrator there while he sits back in his chair, watching her. Then she returns to her seat and stares him down.
“So,” he starts, but he has no end and his fingers start playing with an errant string on her tablecloth. He looks over at her, and she looks determined, jaw set and eyes prodding. And then she takes off her blouse.
“You know, this would be more exciting anywhere else. The kitchen turned out to be kind of a crappy place.” There’s a glint in her eye, and he can’t even believe he got her on board with this, but of course Leslie’s always up for a challenge and eager to prove herself.
“Lead the way,” he offers with a smirk, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt. She throws her shirt at him teasingly, grabs the vibrator and leads him to the bedroom with a chuckle.
“This is better,” she says, bouncing as she flops onto her bed, undoing the button on her slacks. Ben pushes her hands away and takes over, crawling over her on the mattress and leaving kisses where he pulls clothing away. He lets her yank his shirt off and toss his jeans to the floor before rolling away with a quick kiss to her neck, propping his head up on his hand and watching her. She’s naked now, chest heaving with her deep breaths, hands reaching back out for him.
“Alright, Knope,” he begins, reaching around for the vibrator until his fingers close around the smooth surface, handing it to her with a smug look. “Get to work.”
“Romantic,” she deadpans, but her chest breaks out in a flush when she takes the toy in her hand. “I don’t like, just start with that.” She raises her eyebrows at him, suggestively.
“Show me,” he whispers, feeling a surge of pride when she shivers in response. He stays close but refrains from touching her as her hand travels down her stomach, her breath strained as she reaches between her legs. She closes her eyes and hides her face in the pillow as he watches her fingers go to work, circling and stroking. There’s a few minutes of her wriggling around, changing position and her other hand finding her breast and squeezing. It’s definitely the hottest thing Ben’s ever seen, and the vibrator hasn’t even been turned on yet.
Speaking of, once Leslie finally hits a groove and stops moving around, she lifts her head and grasps the vibrator. Looking Ben straight in the eye (holy shit how is he keeping himself together) she settles the vibrator between her legs, her hips pushing against it even though it isn’t turned on. The surface becomes slick as she rubs herself with it over and over, a small moan escaping her lips. And without warning, she turns the top and it jolts awake with a buzz. Ben jumps as Leslie starts moaning louder, moving the vibrator all over down there as her whole body starts writhing.
“You know,” she chokes out, the tip of the vibrator circling around her clit before she dips it down to her opening, “I used this, oh god, that night you fell asleep at your place. You were, shit, supposed to come here and, damnit, you fell asleep.”
Ben’s boxers are becoming increasingly uncomfortable and he quickly rids himself of them, trying his goddamn hardest not to touch her or himself, because this is basically the most amazing position he’s ever been in, and holy shit she just keeps whimpering, moving the vibrator faster against herself as she turns up the intensity.
“It was in the kitchen because -- fuck, Ben -- that’s where we last fucked. I pretended it was you.” She throws her head back with a really loud grunt, and Ben can’t fucking help it. He leans in, runs his tongue along the line of muscle in her neck, bites down when he reaches her earlobe. She yelps.
“Leslie, shit, you are amazing--”
“It wasn’t the same as you,” she says breathlessly, her hand reaching out to his chest. He continues kissing her neck, sucking on her pulse point with one eye on the bright orange between her legs. She’s shaking all over and he can tell she’s close, and shit this is sexy but he can’t, he has to--
“Can I help?” he growls in her ear, and she nods frantically, shoves the now soaked vibrator in his hand and pulls his mouth toward hers. He thrusts his tongue at the same time he thrusts the vibrator into her, and she whimpers underneath him, muttering incoherent words against his mouth as he fucks her with it, the heel of his palm bumping her clit at every thrust. He turns up the intensity even more, fingers slipping against the plastic dial, and she can’t even kiss him anymore. Any noise she’s making becomes one long, drawn-out groan as her hands clutch his arms in a death grip and she bucks against the vibrator. He pushes it in especially hard and suddenly pulls it out, pressing it to her clit and she comes spectacularly, actually screeching as she soaks his hand, shaking all over and pulling him closer, and holy fuck he is in love with this woman.
He switches off the vibrator and tosses it off the side of the bed, enveloping her in his arms and kissing her softly.
“Holy shit, Leslie--” She looks at him, dazed but smiling, a hint of pride. “I just. Wow. Holy shit.” She giggles, reaching her hand down and grasping him.
“How is this still there?” she asks smugly, her hand beginning to slide up and down.
“I have no idea,” he admits, rolling on his back and pulling her on top of him. She straddles him, an eyebrow raised wickedly.
“I have some ideas for getting rid of it.”
---
When she finally passes out asleep next to him, early for Leslie but understandable given... that, he idly begins to wonder what he might find in the abandoned lower drawers of her china cabinet.
author:
shornt
pairing: Leslie/Ben
rating: NC-17
words: ~2600
notes: In response to this kink prompt: "Ben finds Leslie's vibrator. She's embarrassed, but he asks her to show him how she uses it to make herself get off." So um. This is unapologetic porn. And I've written plenty of kink fic but never posted it under my name so this is weird for me but why not. Thank you fairytiger for the usual.
So, it’s not like Ben’s never seen a vibrator before.
There was that one time in college when Stacy -- the quiet brunette from advanced calculus -- shyly took out a silver bullet from her dresser in the heat of the moment, causing Ben’s hands to shake so much that he broke it.
There was that one time when Chris, upbeat and always sex-positive (“Sex does wonders for your skin, Ben!”), dragged Ben into some dive of a sex shop in southern Indiana to buy something for his latest fling, walking past oddly shaped contractions that looked like they belonged anywhere but a woman’s... place. Animal shaped? Really?
And that awful time where he opened the wrong bathroom cabinet only to be met with more than one of April’s “things.”
So, yes. He’s seen a vibrator before. He just isn’t prepared to see one amidst the mismatched ceramic mugs in Leslie’s unorganized kitchen cabinets bright and early in the morning.
He pauses, hand in midair to reach for a mug. What do you... do in this situation? Does he ignore it and close the door and grab a mug that’s right on the same shelf as a vibrator? Does she know it’s there? Will she know he saw it? Good lord, he had no idea --
He notes that, thankfully, it’s not some crazy spinning contraption with a rodent head. Just a slim, bright orange... thing. It’s kind of cute, in its simplicity. Is that a thing? Can he think his girlfriend’s vibrator is cute? That’s normal, right?
In the back of his mind, he realizes that he’s been frozen in front of the cabinet for probably a good minute or two. And the noise of Leslie getting ready for breakfast behind him comes to an abrupt stop.
“Uh, Ben?” she asks, voice too chipper for seven in the morning. “What’s up? There’s not a mouse or something in there, is there? That’s happened before--”
His nose scrunches up in horror at the thought, and suddenly his mind snaps and he slams the cabinet shut.
“Nope. Nothing... to see here. Nothing. It’s all good.” She gives him a wary look.
“Well, you didn’t get a mug! I just put the coffee on, so.” And she sidles past him with a confused smile, opening the cabinet back up. She reaches in for a mug and suddenly her eyes go wide. “Say... Ben, you didn’t, uhh--”
“I did.” His head nods sharply and strangely, a bit of his mussed hair bobbing with the movement.
“Oh.” He cheeks are tinted pink, and she starts babbling, starts giving excuses that don’t really make sense. “You know, it’s not -- I just thought that the color was, like, and does it even have batteries in it, I don’t -- there was this knot in my back, see, and I needed to, I mean why are you even looking through my cabinets, don’t you need a warrant? And it’s not even mine, it’s -- a friend gave it to me, and I put it there because -- Ann said that all ladies do it, and I -- but I’ve never used it, hardly even seen it --”
“Leslie,” he interrupts, unable to avoid the smile creeping onto his face. “It’s fine. Forget about it.”
“Forget about it. Right.”
---
Except Ben does anything but.
Leslie goes off to work and he hangs around her house to work on her campaign stuff, lots of numbers and poll results and usually that helps him clear his mind a little more.
But all he can think about is how the cabinet in the next room has a VIBRATOR in it. Unless Leslie moved it. Maybe she did when he wasn’t looking. Breakfast escalated into a heated debate about the merits of sausage links versus bacon, both looking to change the subject so badly that they latched on to the first thing that came along, but then Leslie had to rush out the door and had she ever been out of eyesight?
He reads the same line of data ten times before his curiosity gets the better of him.
The squeak of his weight against the linoleum in her kitchen startles him, and his hands shoot up like he’s being found by the police. But its not even noon, no one’s home, and he isn’t going to get arrested for poking around Leslie’s kitchen. Right?
It’s still there, though she shoved it behind a chipped Hoosiers mug in the back corner. He turns the cookie monster mug nearby so it isn’t staring at him -- he is doing nothing wrong.
But really. In the kitchen? Was she... doing that, in the kitchen? It sends an unexpected thrill up his spine. She spends nights with him most of the time, but sometimes she gets out of bed after he’s fallen asleep... sometimes she has to come back for work in the morning when she’s at his place, and... well, okay. Maybe she could have in the kitchen. But how...? On the floor? In a chair, on the table? And suddenly his mind fills with the image of Leslie writhing on the dining room table alone, those little whimpers she makes echoing...
Oh god. This is not good. He starts walking in furious circles around the house, willing the strain in his jeans to go away, thinking about Li’l Sebastian and hockey and the most recent episode of Doctor Who, anything to get his mind off that vibrator.
An hour later, he looks again. Still there.
An hour after that, he stops himself with his hand on the cabinet.
Two hours later, he sets it carefully on the kitchen table, then sits down to stare at it. It’s smooth and feels kind of silky, and it’s definitely heavy enough to have batteries in it. His hand reaches for the battery case to look, but he accidentally twists the power instead of the cap and suddenly it comes to life in his hands. He drops it and shoves it across the table, where it knocks over a salt shaker that’s actually full of sugar and continues buzzing.
Looking around frantically, he bolts across the table to turn it off, shoving it back in the cabinet and cleaning up the mess. He goes back to his work, vows to stay out of the kitchen for the rest of the day, and buries himself in Knope 2012 business to keep him occupied.
Eventually his stomach growls. He knows Leslie hides candy in various places around the house, but it’s never in the same place twice and she doesn’t divulge all the secrets of her clutter (clearly). So he has to go to the kitchen, right?
He takes out the vibrator, turns it over in his hand, and studies it. Turns it on just a little, then all the way up (good lord), decides that it’s probably a nice... thing. To have. Thinks about Leslie using it when he isn’t around, can’t decide if he feels weird or turned on about that.
No, wait. Definitely turned on. Shit.
He places it on the counter next to the espresso machine and goes to grab his cell phone to tell Leslie they’ll be eating out tonight. He can’t... think about the kitchen correctly right now. She agrees immediately, of course, with several exclamation points and a smiley face. Two minutes later, he loses the battle with himself.
‘So how did that... end up in the kitchen?’ he texts, hitting send before he can stop himself. They should be able to talk about this stuff, right? It’s not a big deal.
‘I thought we were forgetting about that. What happened to forgetting about that? I supported the forgetting.’
‘Leslie.’
It’s five minutes before she answers him again.
‘I, uh. Used it?’
His breath quickens a little.
‘Where?’
‘God, Ben, I think in my chair? Why?’
He hurries into the kitchen and looks at her chair, the innocent cushion and the dark wood. His fingers shake as he types his next message.
‘Show me. When you get home.’
Ten minutes go by.
‘Okay.’
---
JJs doesn’t happen.
Leslie gets home and greets him with a peck on his cheek, then disappears upstairs with some excuse about a plan for a new park map at Ramsett. She then runs back and forth with pictures she retrieves from all over the house, asking Ben to make something to eat and unintentionally brushing against his hip.
But as she goes on a wild goose chase for some photograph of the Ramsett duck pond, the touches start to feel... less unintentional. Is she being coy? He barricades himself in the kitchen and starts a pot of pasta, confused. She stops bothering him for a while, so as he sets the table, he maybe sets the vibrator amidst the Parmesan cheese and likely-to-be-ignored bowl of salad.
After a sprinkle from the salt shaker, Leslie wolfs down half her pasta before the glint of orange catches her eye. Ben’s been watching her carefully, eyes on her as he spins noodles onto his fork and tries not to stain his shirt with marinara. And he tracks the exact moment that her eyes move to the salad in disgust, and then to the left of it in quiet surprise.
She keeps eating. Finishes her plate way before him but plunks his into the sink anyway, clears off the table and leaves the vibrator there while he sits back in his chair, watching her. Then she returns to her seat and stares him down.
“So,” he starts, but he has no end and his fingers start playing with an errant string on her tablecloth. He looks over at her, and she looks determined, jaw set and eyes prodding. And then she takes off her blouse.
“You know, this would be more exciting anywhere else. The kitchen turned out to be kind of a crappy place.” There’s a glint in her eye, and he can’t even believe he got her on board with this, but of course Leslie’s always up for a challenge and eager to prove herself.
“Lead the way,” he offers with a smirk, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt. She throws her shirt at him teasingly, grabs the vibrator and leads him to the bedroom with a chuckle.
“This is better,” she says, bouncing as she flops onto her bed, undoing the button on her slacks. Ben pushes her hands away and takes over, crawling over her on the mattress and leaving kisses where he pulls clothing away. He lets her yank his shirt off and toss his jeans to the floor before rolling away with a quick kiss to her neck, propping his head up on his hand and watching her. She’s naked now, chest heaving with her deep breaths, hands reaching back out for him.
“Alright, Knope,” he begins, reaching around for the vibrator until his fingers close around the smooth surface, handing it to her with a smug look. “Get to work.”
“Romantic,” she deadpans, but her chest breaks out in a flush when she takes the toy in her hand. “I don’t like, just start with that.” She raises her eyebrows at him, suggestively.
“Show me,” he whispers, feeling a surge of pride when she shivers in response. He stays close but refrains from touching her as her hand travels down her stomach, her breath strained as she reaches between her legs. She closes her eyes and hides her face in the pillow as he watches her fingers go to work, circling and stroking. There’s a few minutes of her wriggling around, changing position and her other hand finding her breast and squeezing. It’s definitely the hottest thing Ben’s ever seen, and the vibrator hasn’t even been turned on yet.
Speaking of, once Leslie finally hits a groove and stops moving around, she lifts her head and grasps the vibrator. Looking Ben straight in the eye (holy shit how is he keeping himself together) she settles the vibrator between her legs, her hips pushing against it even though it isn’t turned on. The surface becomes slick as she rubs herself with it over and over, a small moan escaping her lips. And without warning, she turns the top and it jolts awake with a buzz. Ben jumps as Leslie starts moaning louder, moving the vibrator all over down there as her whole body starts writhing.
“You know,” she chokes out, the tip of the vibrator circling around her clit before she dips it down to her opening, “I used this, oh god, that night you fell asleep at your place. You were, shit, supposed to come here and, damnit, you fell asleep.”
Ben’s boxers are becoming increasingly uncomfortable and he quickly rids himself of them, trying his goddamn hardest not to touch her or himself, because this is basically the most amazing position he’s ever been in, and holy shit she just keeps whimpering, moving the vibrator faster against herself as she turns up the intensity.
“It was in the kitchen because -- fuck, Ben -- that’s where we last fucked. I pretended it was you.” She throws her head back with a really loud grunt, and Ben can’t fucking help it. He leans in, runs his tongue along the line of muscle in her neck, bites down when he reaches her earlobe. She yelps.
“Leslie, shit, you are amazing--”
“It wasn’t the same as you,” she says breathlessly, her hand reaching out to his chest. He continues kissing her neck, sucking on her pulse point with one eye on the bright orange between her legs. She’s shaking all over and he can tell she’s close, and shit this is sexy but he can’t, he has to--
“Can I help?” he growls in her ear, and she nods frantically, shoves the now soaked vibrator in his hand and pulls his mouth toward hers. He thrusts his tongue at the same time he thrusts the vibrator into her, and she whimpers underneath him, muttering incoherent words against his mouth as he fucks her with it, the heel of his palm bumping her clit at every thrust. He turns up the intensity even more, fingers slipping against the plastic dial, and she can’t even kiss him anymore. Any noise she’s making becomes one long, drawn-out groan as her hands clutch his arms in a death grip and she bucks against the vibrator. He pushes it in especially hard and suddenly pulls it out, pressing it to her clit and she comes spectacularly, actually screeching as she soaks his hand, shaking all over and pulling him closer, and holy fuck he is in love with this woman.
He switches off the vibrator and tosses it off the side of the bed, enveloping her in his arms and kissing her softly.
“Holy shit, Leslie--” She looks at him, dazed but smiling, a hint of pride. “I just. Wow. Holy shit.” She giggles, reaching her hand down and grasping him.
“How is this still there?” she asks smugly, her hand beginning to slide up and down.
“I have no idea,” he admits, rolling on his back and pulling her on top of him. She straddles him, an eyebrow raised wickedly.
“I have some ideas for getting rid of it.”
---
When she finally passes out asleep next to him, early for Leslie but understandable given... that, he idly begins to wonder what he might find in the abandoned lower drawers of her china cabinet.