
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7770784.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Turn_(TV_2014), American_Revolution_RPF, Historical_RPF, Hamilton_-
      Miranda
  Relationship:
      Benjamin_Tallmadge/George_Washington, Alexander_Hamilton/Benjamin
      Tallmadge
  Character:
      Benjamin_Tallmadge, George_Washington, Alexander_Hamilton, Caleb_Brewster
  Additional Tags:
      Grooming, Gross, Underage_Sex, Feelings, Photography, Alternate_Universe
      -_1990s, Alternate_Universe_-_Punk, Chicago_(City), Masturbation, Dirty
      Talk, Guilt, First_Love, Crossover
  Series:
      Part 10 of Chicagoland
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-14 Words: 2586
****** Still Uneasy ******
by gross_batpanda
Summary
     Title from a Pegboy song. Heed the warnings.
Ben passes through life without anyone really seeing him. He wakes up to an
alarm clock that used to belong to his younger brother, and takes a shower in
the bathroom the boys all share. On the way to school he passes by his mother,
drinking her black coffee with two packets of Equal and staring out the window.
She talks at him, past him. I’m working late this afternoon, you’ll have to get
the bus home. There’s twenty dollars on the counter for dinner. Take the trash
out when you leave.
The bus is terrible. He’d rather walk. Alex has made him mixtapes, and he can
play almost one full side, all thirty minutes give or take, on the way there.
His steps slow as he approaches the building. If he drags his feet then he can
finish the tape. When he shows up late to first period, as he inevitably does,
the teacher’s eyes skim over him. He’s pretty sure she’s never once marked him
tardy. That’s how missable he is even to her. She’d told him once that he
should apply himself more: get a 5 on the exam, test out of his credits for
college downstate.
You want to be close to your family, don’t you? Why would you want to ever
leave Illinois?
Alex got out. Ben wants out too. He’s not smart enough to get into Columbia;
he’s not even smart enough to get that great score on the AP test. Maybe if he
studied every single day and that was all he did, and he’d still end up where.
Urbana? Carbondale?
Ben has no idea what he wants, but he sure as hell knows he won’t find it
downstate. He’d said as much, when she’d suggested he come to her study
sessions on Friday afternoons. He’d rather die.
There are kids at the club, in the scene, who are only a few years older than
him. They’ve done all sorts of crazy shit. They’ve hitchhiked around Europe, or
hopped train cars. Lived in abandoned apartment buildings with no electricity,
no plumbing, got their food out of dumpsters. Ben’s never going to do any of
those things. He hates the idea of not being able to get clean, and he likes
pasta with red sauce, and when his dad does taco night, and Pepsi cans cold
with condensation from the fridge.
Monday through Thursday he goes to school, invisible, unseen, and goes home to
his 7” collection and his homework, and he waits through the interminable week
for Friday night. There’s a show for Halloween weekend but it’s 21+, so Ben has
to hide downstairs until it’s over. He finds he doesn't mind being invisible
like this, George's secret. It makes him feel grown-up. It makes him feel
special. 
They go out the back door into the cold night, George first, already lighting
up before his boots hit the pavement.
Ben and George don’t really talk. When they do, it’s usually George telling Ben
to do something, and him rushing to comply with it. He’s not sure why. He could
put up some resistance, play hard to get. It seems to be working for Alex, but
he’s not like Ben. He has other things in his life; he can go where he wants,
when he wants, and he has a job, and some money, and he can drink legally, and
has his own apartment, and he doesn’t take shit from anyone.
George has done everything, seen everything. Ben wishes he would talk more
about the West Coast, and Berlin, especially. He was there when the Wall came
down, has a chunk of it just lying there on one of his bookshelves. There’s
purple paint on it, some words in German. Ben touches it every time he walks
past on his way to the bathroom.
George doesn’t really seem to care one way or the other whether or not Ben is
clean beforehand. He’s never once mentioned it, and with the state the loft is
in most nights, scattered with empty bottles and takeout boxes, cleanliness
isn’t too high on his list of priorities.
He knows what George would say if he told him why he goes to the bathroom and
swishes mouthwash from the tiny bottle he brings with him, and wipes his
armpits with a baby wipe, and his ass with another.
He’d say What’s the damn point, kid? You’re just gonna get all dirty again in a
minute.
It’s stupid, the same way he’s stupid, but he likes it better if he’s clean,
before. And he doesn’t get all that dirty, not really. He’s watched videos with
so much worse than a little semen, a sticky trail across his face that he wants
so badly to wipe off but George says Leave it there, hang on a second. You look
so good like that Benjamin. God, you’re gorgeous. I’m so lucky to have you.
When the flash goes off it is like the first time in his life that Ben really
truly feels seen. George runs a thumb through the mess on Ben’s cheek and he
automatically opens his mouth to suck on it. His dick is hard and his pulse is
racing as he swallows, and when George goes to take his thumb away, Ben
whimpers, and sucks harder so that he won’t go away, won't leave him alone
again. 
 
                                      \\\
                                        
Caleb likes to sit backwards in his chair during study hall. He also likes to
drum on the desk with the gnawed up eraser end of his pencil. The incessant tap
tap tap is driving Ben up the wall. He’s trying to read about the canal system
and failing miserably, when Caleb pokes him in the back with the pointy end of
the pencil.
There’s a bruise just to the left of where the point falls, and he winces when
it glances off the sore muscle. “Ow,” he glowers, twisting around in his seat
to glare at his friend. 
“Do you want to hang out with us tonight?” he asks. “Anna’s parents said we
could use the basement. They have Showtime.”
“I can’t,” Ben says automatically, and turns back to his reading. Then hearing
Caleb’s dramatic sigh he swivels back around. “Next time,” he tells his friend,
“okay?”
Caleb folds his arms around the back of the chair and glowers. “Whatever. If
you don’t want to be seen with us anymore then that's your deal, I guess." 
The study hall teacher shushes them and Ben goes back to his textbook. His eyes
won't focus. 
I like you fine, he wants to say.But you still treat me like I'm the kid you
grew up with, and I'm not like that anymore. I've had experiences now. I've
seen some shit, kinda. I can't tell you what, exactly, but it's a big secret.
The guy I'm seeing is a big deal in the city. Everyone knows him, and I mean
everyone. 
But nobody knows, and they have to keep it that way. 
 
                                      \\\
                                        
He only wishes that Alex were there. When they’re together he feels more
fearless, less afraid. Alex shows him what he’s supposed to do, and if he fucks
it up then he’s never angry. George gets angry sometimes, when they’re alone,
and Ben isn’t really sure if it’s for real or like the videos they watch
together, so he just goes with it.
He’s not angry now though. His dick is pressed out stiff and hard on the front
side of his jeans, and he’s looking at Ben hungrily, the camera held lightly in
his tattooed hands. “Fuck,” he says, as Ben sticks his own fingers in his mouth
and works them in and out like George would do. There's a wet noise like spit
that makes him feel dirty, but he kind of enjoys it. The camera is lifted, and
he feels a little surge of pride at his audacity before the flash goes off. Ben
isn't sure if he likes being slutty, but he knows he likes the attention that
acting slutty gets him. 
The picture is laid to the side on the coffee table with the growing stack. All
of Ben: parts of Ben, his face and ass and knees and toes. Ben knows by now
that George has done this before, with lots of other people. There’s shoeboxes
under his bed that can attest to that. Faces he sort of recognizes, body parts
in poses that look familiar. George was Ben’s first, but the opposite is far
from being true. If he can’t be the first guy that’s done this, then Ben at
least thinks he can be the best.
So he arches his back like the guys in George’s tapes, and pinches his nipples
like Alex has done to him, and moans like a porno when he slides the slicked-up
plastic dildo into his ass. It’s smaller than George by at least an inch, but
somehow it seems to hurt even more. He’s too eager to show off. His legs are
spread too wide and he can’t get it in very far, so he’s forced to dig in his
heels and tilt his pelvis forward.
George makes an approving noise when he bites his lip instead of whimpering
again. He leans over close to Ben’s feet and takes another picture. “Not so
fast, baby. You don’t have to rush it.”
His stomach hurts when it goes in, one slick inch at a time, and for a horrible
second he thinks he might actually throw up. But then he closes his eyes, and
lies still for a long minute. He smells smoke. Worried that George has lost
interest he wrenches them back open only to find that George is completely
transfixed by the sight before him. Pride surges up in him again, and he
watches George swallow heavily, drag his eyes away from Ben’s lower half and up
to his face.
George grins, and moves a little closer. He taps his cigarette against the
ashtray. Ben inhales deeply, lets the smoke seep into his lungs. He doesn’t
like to smoke himself, but this feels like something else. As if he could
inhale George and the way George looks at him, sees him, and hold it all in his
chest forever.
Instead he thinks about what Alex would do, or one of the video guys, and he
lets his breath hiss through his teeth and says, in a squeaky voice, “God, I’m
so tight.”
“Goddamn it,” George chokes on an inhale. He lifts up the camera, pauses.
“Listen to you, you dirty little thing. Who taught you how to talk like that?”
You did,he thinks,you and Alex and all your dirty tapes. And now I think about
it all the time, too.
Ben smiles, gasps. He swivels his hips, pushing the toy further inside himself
from where it threatens to pop out. It hits a spot that feels good, one Alex
helped him find but that he can’t reach with his own fingers. His forehead is
sweating even though it’s cold in the apartment. When he speaks again his voice
feels tinny, distant.
“I wish it was you fucking me instead,” he lies. George is strong, and his dick
is really big, but Ben doesn’t need a whole lot in that department. He was
telling the truth about being tight. All he ever gets to put up there are his
own thin fingers, and it's never enough for him. What's best is something in
between; a hot, hard dick that doesn't shred his insides when he's getting
fucked. 
He pulls it out a little,  twists it with a flick of the wrist as he pushes it
back in. He can't help the moan that slides out from his lips. Alex, he thinks:
of dark hair falling over the side of his face, and his kind eyes, and his dick
that's a good size, not so big that it's intimidating. If he were here he'd be
smirking at George, saying something smart-ass about liver disease, and he'd
kiss Ben's ears, and nuzzle his neck, and hold his free hand while he worked
himself over with the toy. He might jerk Ben off, or lick his stomach, or play
with his nipples until they turned all pink and puffy. He would be there, and
he would see Ben, too. 
But right now there is only him and George, and the camera. He licks his lips,
bats his eyelashes as George extinguishes his cigarette and crawls on top of
Ben so he can get a better shot. The dildo keeps sliding out, though, and Ben
has to shove it back in on his own. It's not nearly as good as getting fucked,
it really isn't, so Ben spreads his legs wider like he's seen in some of the
other pictures, and grabs George around the wrist, guiding his hand to the flat
base. 
"Can you do it?" he asks, breathless, and George looks up at him, surprised
that he's asking for something. Ben only ever takes what he's told to. The man
looks pleased, though, and says, "I can't do it and watch you at the same time,
kid." 
"Don't care," Ben says, and bears down with his body so that George is pushing
the dildo in purely by virtue of holding it there. Sparks scatter across his
field of vision when the tip nudges that good place inside of him, and his hips
buck involuntarily. "Please, please, I need it." 
"God," rasps George, as he fucks Ben with the toy. Hard and thorough, exactly
like he deserves. He's good, he's good. He's a slut, George is right. This is
all he's good for, but it's all right, because he's so good at it. He can make
someone like George lose control if he looks the right way, says the right
stuff, and he wants more, he needs more. 
"I want your cock," Ben says, "please. Let me have that big dick of yours in my
tight ass." 
The effect is instantaneous. Before he even knows what's happening he's on the
ground, on all fours. The dildo pops out because he's not even trying to hold
it in, and normally George would be annoyed, but Ben must have done something
right this time, because he's saying such nice things instead gorgeous little
slut and perfect, you were made for this. Ben's forehead hits the floor and
then he is full, filled to the brim and he can't hear anything over the blood
rushing in his ears. 
 
                                      \\\
                                        
When he gets home that night he has to climb up the pine tree outside his
window so that he can crawl inside. The pane rattles as he bumps up against it,
but he makes it in without being found out. Still, he shucks off his clothes
and scrambles under the covers as quickly as he can. His heart is racing and so
even though the room is very dark, it takes him forever to fall asleep. He
comforts himself with thinking about what he'll write to Alex in his next
letter.
I'm studying for the AP exams. It's terrible. School is super boring. It snowed
last week. I'm not ready for winter yet. I don't know where I'm going to go to
college. I think I need to leave this place but everyone else is staying put. I
want to come see you in New York. I listen to your tapes every day.
I wish you were here. 
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