Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7245469.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Turn_(TV_2014), American_Revolution_RPF
  Relationship:
      Benjamin_Tallmadge/George_Washington
  Character:
      Benjamin_Tallmadge, George_Washington
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, Plot_What_Plot/Porn
      Without_Plot, Grooming, Dirty_Talk, Loss_of_Virginity, First_Time, Id_Fic
  Series:
      Part 2 of Chicagoland
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-19 Words: 2182
****** Hey Suburbia ******
by gross_batpanda
Summary
     Modern predator George Washington, underage Benjamin Tallmadge. What
     it says on the tin.
For all his faults, George is a stickler for legality. Seventeen is the age of
consent in Illinois, and so until that’s reached he keeps his damn distance. He
keeps to himself, finds there’s no need to court trouble. But he sees the
worshipful way Tallmadge looks at him, and the youthful pride that he’s yet to
grow out of. He’s almost too pretty to be truly interesting, but he’s always
hanging around. George tries to give him the brush-off. That only makes him try
harder.
He’s around, he’s interested. He wants to learn, and George is more than happy
to instruct him. He has time to kill when Ben gets off school, a VHS collection
he’s been working on building up since the eighties. Ben’s eyes glaze over when
they watch tapes together; his breath comes in shallow, rapid bursts as he
stares open-mouthed, at the screen. George mail-orders. It’s preferable to the
hassle of getting them in-person. There’s all right shops in Wicker Park, but
they cater to straight tastes, and George doesn’t so much incline that way.
They sit on George’s thirdhand couch, Ben with his blue eyes wide like saucers,
worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. For the most part they’re quiet. Ben
gets through a couple beers, George keeps a constantly lit cigarette between
his fingers, his other hand lightly dangling over his thigh. He keeps it in his
pants, of course. No need for Ben to be distracted by that. Better he learn
from a professional what to do when the times comes.
After hours at the bar is when Ben touches him for the first time. Through his
jeans, with hands that shake so badly the tremors run up his arms. The look of
awed pride when he feels the bulge George has been fighting all night
practically makes him sigh in relief. George relishes the dark shiver that goes
through him, gives Ben a wicked smile. “That’s all you, Benjamin. You did
that.”
Ben’s eyes are heavy lidded as, encouraged by George, he gives the warm ridge a
squeeze. His fingers are delicate, the pressure barely noticeable. He shakes
his head in dismay, gruffs out, “That how you touch yourself when you’re alone?
Come on, Tallmadge, it won’t bite you. Harder.”
Emboldened, Ben opens his palm, flexes it, and then lays it to rest once more
against the denim. “Good boy,” George says, as he squeezes more firmly, and
Ben’s cheeks flush with the praise. George lets him touch as much as he wants
to, through the pants, until he is aching for his own release. He sends Ben
home, though, and lets his own desire subside once he’s back in his own office.
The time will come soon enough, and he can wait until Ben is ready.
Ready takes a good month, during which time Ben slobbers on George’s dick
enough for him to think it’s hopeless. Fucking him promises to be more
rewarding, if the constant whines that drip from his mouth are any indication.
At least it’ll be interesting: virgins always are. Ben is fully naked and laid
out on the double bed, and permits George to spread his legs with his hands.
His calves have a little dark hair but his thighs are smooth and pale, and
yield prettily to the scrape of George’s teeth against the skin. Stroking his
thumbs along the muscle must tickle, as Ben twitches at the touch, and he
laughs, a stupid childish giggle when George touches a finger to his perineum.
The laugh slides sideways into a gasp as George darts out the very tip of his
tongue and touches it to the hard little nub of skin. He laves it over that
spot, sensitive enough to have Ben getting used to the idea, but less shameful
than going straight for his hole.
When his perineum is glossy with spit, puffy from attention, George dips his
head lower. The first taste is always the sweetest, and he wants to savor it as
much as the wanton noises that are coming from deep within Ben’s chest.
Course he barely has to do a thing to get Ben writhing on the tip of his
tongue. It’s exactly as he suspected, he thinks, as he laps the spot with
relish. A religious upbringing will screw with their heads in ways that
manifest only later, and come to blossom under the right tutelage. They never
really shed their shame at feeling pleasure, and George has to admit, he likes
that part almost as much as he does divesting them of their tightly wound
virginity. What’s better than the kid who skips out on Bible study to learn how
to take cock? What sweeter corruption could there be?
Tongue turns to fingers, then both at once as he gives Ben his middle and ring
fingers, flicks around the stretched out rim of his asshole with his tongue.
“Shit,” he gasps out, as George loosens him up. His head is thrown back against
the pillow, stupid hair spread out like a centerfold. He has thought about
instructing Ben to cut it, knows that all he’d have to do is say the word and
it would be shorn off in an instant, but it’s been advantageous to have,
teaching him how to give head to the best of his ability. A damn shame; the kid
looks like he’d be a natural.
What he is, though, is a natural fucking slut. On this count he was correct,
but he’s always been able to peg them. George’s fingers quicken and Ben’s skin
heats beautifully, a wave of pink spreading out from his thighs. When George
finally draws out his own cock, the pressure makes him hiss with denied need.
He’s been beyond patient, opening this kid up, and now he needs to fuck him
until neither of them can see straight.
“Stay there,” he instructs, and reaches over for the condoms. They’re
lubricated, but Ben’s going to need more. It’s a tricky move, keeping two
fingers hooked inside so he stays open, nice and easy, while opening the packet
with his teeth, then rolling it on one-handed. “Can you slick me up?” he asks,
and jerks his head to indicate the KY. Ben gasps as he shifts, gropes over his
head and comes up with the tube. “Put it right on there,” he nods down at his
erection. Ben squeezes it out; cold even through the latex barrier. “Get it
good and slippery,” George tells Ben, who’s already gone wide-eyed at the
prospect. He wiggles his fingers and Ben reacts by clutching helplessly onto
the shaft. “It’s going inside you, princess, can’t be too careful.”
Penetration provides minor relief, but it pales in comparison to the sweet
expression of pain that twists up Ben’s face. George barely gives him anything
at all, and even with all that prep, he’s pushing George out as much as, if not
more than, George slips in. “Gotta relax,” he says, and leans down to kiss
Ben’s useless mouth. The movement nudges the head of his cock a tiny fraction
deeper, until only the warm tip finds home. “Open up, Benjamin, open up for
me.” Ben allows George to draw his tongue into his mouth, to suck on it.
It takes some doing, but he gets all the way in eventually. Ben’s sweat has
left smears on the pale sheets; it stands out in beads against his forehead.
“There you go,” he soothes. “Look at you, so fucking proud of you. You take it
so good, sweetheart. I’m gonna push now, relax, relax.”
Ben’s entire body convulses as George thrusts home, fingers nestled in the
divots above his ass, resting there like the frets of a guitar. He’s gone soft,
he notices as he looks down. The head of his cock is an angry bright red, made
all the more visible in contrast to the milky white skin of his stomach, as it
drips against his belly.
“Is that normal?” Ben’s head is thrown back but he cranes his neck up to look.
“Is it supposed to--?”
George feels his patience tried, but Ben has been silent as a tomb, hasn’t
whined a single word of protest until this very minute, so he supposes he can
explain what happens the first time.
“It’s fine,” he grits out between his teeth. “You’re good.”
He leverages himself back out and scrutinizes Tallmadge. His chin has the
defiant jut of a know-it-all, a mouth that’s prettier than it is useful, and an
ass that had taken his fingers extremely well. They went in easy, his hand
turned so that the thumb faced upright, and Ben winced at the stretch but his
cock had grown hard nonetheless, stayed that way as he scissored them. He’ll
firm back up soon.
“I can tell,” says George, as he plunges back in so slowly that Ben has no
choice but to yield, to open for him, “that you’re going to need to be fucked
all the time, aren’t you Benjamin?”
A small guttural noise works it way out from Ben’s chest and George reaches
over, gives his cock a perfunctory tug. It straightens to attention nicely. He
leans back; satisfied. With a roll of his hips he sheathes himself once more in
the hot confines of Ben’s ass. Beneath him, Ben squirms as if he means to
escape, his pink mouth falling open in a cross between a sigh and a cry. The
helpless look goes straight to his own cock, iron-hard and heavy between his
legs. “I know,” he soothes, and slows his tempo to a crawl. “I know. It feels
good, doesn’t it?”
“Oh,” Ben cries out, and his stomach muscles twitch in response. He gulps down
a breath, sucks in air between his teeth. George admonishes him, “Asked you a
question, kid. We can always stop if you don’t like it.”
He leans heavily on one forearm then and makes as if to pull out abruptly. It
would be cruel, especially since Ben’s only now eased him inside, but then
again, if he has to stop, the hot clamp of his asshole will feel just as good
the second time around. He’ll have to mind his own advice these next few
months. Ben gives off every indication that he’s gagging for it, and will be
happy to bend over any time George wants him to. He’s certainly taken to
sucking cock with that kind of unmitigated enthusiasm, though George would
trade all the excited slobber in the world for a handful of solid skills,
however. Such a fucking waste.
“No!” Ben exclaims, his eyes widening at the implication. “I mean, yes.” He
sighs again when George slides back home, as if he’s relieved not to be
abandoned. “Yes,” he swallows down the grimace and gives George a defiant
response. “Yes, I like it.” His eyes slide closed in pleasure.
“Can you tell me that?” he coaxes, and Ben turns his head, afraid to say the
words. “One time, baby, can you tell me what you like?”
Ben stammers charmingly over the admission. Yes, he likes George’s tongue, his
hands, his cock.
“You like getting fucked? That what you like?”
“Yes,” Ben chokes out. “Yes, I like it, I like it when you fuck me.”
“Good,” says George, and takes Ben’s hands in his own, pinning them over his
head. There’s a squishing sound from beneath his stomach as lube trickles out
and onto Ben’s bare leg. The stuff is well warmed up, but Ben shivers
nonetheless. “That’s really good, Benjamin. I knew you’d like it, knew you’d
like taking cock. Was I right?”
“Yes,” gasps Ben, and it’s the hard-won truth. He’s passed the point where pain
matters anymore, and he’s taking George so beautifully now that it takes
everything he has to rein himself in. “Can you come like this?” he asks, and
then shakes his own head. He can’t expect so much so soon. Too early for that
party trick. Instead he allows the weight of his stomach to press down against
Ben’s shaft, the solid pressure enough to tip him over before he even knows
it’s happening.
He swears a blue streak when he comes, and George, tired of holding back,
follows him quickly there, his orgasm roaring out with a grunt and a tremendous
load into the condom. Also a fucking waste, he thinks, as he gingerly eases out
and ties off. There’s plenty more where that came from, however.
Ben’s gone a bit cross-eyed, and he shakes his head at the cigarette George
shakes out for him. He pulls his knees to his chest and winces at the movement.
From here the damage doesn’t look too bad, but George will inspect him in a
minute. He’s not a fucking monster. He’ll drive him to the train station, even,
because no goddamn way is he spending the night with a seventeen year old in
his bed. Can’t have him mooning over George like they’re boyfriends or
whatever. The line is tricky, but he’ll walk it. Always does.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!