Adventures with Ben and Jerry
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🔽 🔼 Playing Hooky
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Uses the prompt word (grumpy) left in the comments of the previous week’s Flash Fiction Friday post, and 18 prompt words (sunshine — breakfast — coffee — alarm clock — school bus — Large Haldron Collider — sweltering — studio — purple dildo — leather — shovel — hornet — dominate — hot chocolate — rhinestone — leash — flake — If you do that one more time…) from the original posting of this FlashFic.
Told from Ben’s 3rd-person POV:
Ben turned on the coffeemaker and pulled a box of corn flakes out of the cabinet. The alarm clock had gone off way too early this morning and he wanted lots of caffeine with his breakfast.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Jerry’s voice was as sunny as the day. “Coffee smells great, but I’m in the mood for hot chocolate today.”
“Hot chocolate? Really? It’s gonna be sweltering.”
Mr. I-love-mornings winked at him. “You’re drinking coffee.”
Ben couldn’t refute that logic so he poured his cereal, sat down, and willed the coffee pot to drip faster. “You going in to the studio today or the office?”
A school bus rumbled by, and he missed Jerry’s reply. It involved an eye roll, though.
“What?”
“I said, what’s the point? The earth’s going to be swallowed by a black hole today anyway. Might as well stay home for it.”
Ben shook his head at Jerry and his Large Haldron Collider worries. “You’re pretty chipper this morning considering the world’s coming to an end.”
Jerry smiled. “Well, I don’t really believe that. But don’t you think it would be a fun excuse to stay home? You know. Say ‘to hell with it all, we’re playing hooky today.’”
Ben grinned. Jerry was a free spirit and sometimes his attitude was contagious. There wasn’t anything he needed to do at the office today that couldn’t be put off a day, was there? “What excuse should I use?”
“You could just tell old Prather a hornet stung you. You’re allergic to freaking everything so that’d work. He’s such a flake anyway you could tell him anything.”
“What about you? Jenkins is always grumpy. I can hear him now: ‘if you do that one more time…’”
Jerry laughed. “He always says that. I’ll just tell him I’ve got the stomach flu and I’ll work from home. I’m pretty much done with that project anyway.”
Ben wasn’t going to tell his boss he’d been stung by a hornet, but he could see a case of the stomach flu buying him a day at home. “What do you want to do with our day off? We can’t go out and risk being seen after calling in.”
Jerry had a playful glint in his eye. “We’re being bad. I think we should be really bad. Remember those gifts Randy gave us when we moved in together? The ones you put in the back of the closet?”
Ben’s jaw dropped. “The leather collar?”
“And the rhinestone studded leash.”
“Oh yeah.” Ben grimaced, but Jerry had such a hopeful look in his eyes. “Ah, okay. Who’s going to wear it?”
Jerry gave him an eyebrow wiggle. “Wanna dominate me? Or would you rather be dominated?”
Ben wouldn’t know where to start. The idea of Jerry getting all Dom on him was kind of intriguing, though. Hot even. “Uh, you can be in charge.”
Jerry’s eyes turned serious. “I’ve got a purple dildo with your name on it.”
Ben choked. A what? Was it too late to back out? He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Jerry walked calmly over to the coffee pot and turned it off. He poured a cup and set it in front of Ben. “Drink up and shovel in some cereal. You’re going to need the energy.”
What had he gotten himself into?
🔽 🔼 Picnic Plans
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Uses the prompt word (tinsel) left in the comments of the previous week’s Flash Fiction Friday post, and 25 prompt words/phrases (woodpile — kindling — hearth — watermelon — mango — heat — howl — brother— stars — cincher — stallion — snow — ice — windy — bitter cold — jingle bells — fruit cake — colored balls — squirrel — pudding — toaster — sir — chocolate — grin—batteries not included) from the original posting of this FlashFic.
Told from Ben’s 3rd-person POV:
“I’m not calling in sick to play hooky again!” Ben was adamant.
But, Jerry’s grin was mischievous. Ben was learning to get nervous when that grin appeared. “I’m not saying right now. We can plan it for Saturday.”
“But a picnic? In December? I don’t know. It’s pretty darned bitter cold out there. Not to mention windy as hell. All we’d need is snow and ice to make it the craziest picnic on record.”
Jerry laughed and looked at him like he was the one that was nuts. “Not outside. We’ll spread out a blanket in front of the fireplace. I’ll scrounge through what’s left of the woodpile for logs and kindling. The heat from a roaring fire will be just the thing to make us forget the howl of the wind outside.”
Some of the tension drained from Ben’s shoulders. That sounded pretty good, actually. Ben could get behind a cozy little hearth-side carpet picnic. “I wonder if I can find a watermelon in December? Or mango. I love mango.” Especially since learning it was an aphrodisiac.
“Yeah, and pudding. I love chocolate pudding.”
“Well yeah, I can make pudding, but that’s not picnic food. Heck, we might as well break out Aunt Gertrude’s fruitcake if we’re not going to stick to the theme.” He’d much rather squirrel that heavy monstrosity away somewhere in case they both lost their jobs and were starving. Really starving, ’cause damn.
“Oh, okay.” Jerry rolled his eyes. “Hey, let’s do it after dark so it can be like we’re camping next to a campfire. The Christmas tree lights reflecting off the colored balls and tinsel will be like we’re looking up at the stars.”
Well maybe for someone with Jerry’s imagination, but Ben could go with that. Night would be better for getting frisky in front of the fireplace, and he could certainly get behind that. “Fine.”
“One more thing…”
Oh brother. “What?”
“Wear that waist cincher I got you for your birthday? You haven’t worn it for me yet.”
Ben’s mouth opened but nothing came out. Well, okay, he could do that. He’d had way more fun than he’d ever expected to have the last time Jerry’d gotten a wild hair in his ass, and Ben had ended up with a purple dildo in his. He nodded.
Jerry’s grin widened. “Good. I’ll have you open that present with the gold jingle bells on it, too. Hey, make sure we have some double A’s.”
“Double A’s?”
“Yeah, batteries. The box you’ll be unwrapping said ‘batteries not included’. We’ll definitely want to have some on hand.”
Ben took a deep, steadying breath. Jerry hadn’t steered him wrong yet. He blushed to admit it, but he liked it when Jerry turned all dom on him like that. Jerry turned into such a—for lack of a less cheesy word—stallion. “Okay. I’ll make sure we have some.”
“Oh, and the toaster. We’ll need to bring the toaster out here, too.”
Ben’s eyes widened. “Do I want to ask?”
“Probably not.”
“You going to make me call you ‘Sir’ again?”
“That a problem?”
No. It sure wasn’t.
🔽 🔼 For Spooner
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Uses the prompt word (exhausted) left in the comments of the previous week’s Flash Fiction Friday post, and 11 prompt words/phrases (nooner — blindfold — camera — intense — numb — ice cream — tomatoes — keychain — spiral staircase — flagpole — WaterPik shower massager) from the original posting of this FlashFic.
Told from Ben’s 3rd-person POV:
You’ve got to come home right now. For Spooner. It’s an emergency. Jerry’s voicemail hadn’t been very specific. Ben was numb with worry as he trotted from the car to the front entrance of their new house. Poor little kitty.
He fumbled and dropped his keychain, then knocked his head on the poorly placed flagpole.
“Dammit.” He stood and stumbled to the door, rubbing his head.
“Jerry?” Ben hollered through the house. “Where are you? Where’s Spooner? Is she going to be okay?”
Ben’s jaw dropped as Jerry sauntered out of the kitchen, buck naked, eating a bowl of ice cream as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“What do you mean?” Jerry asked.
Ben sputtered. “Your voicemail. You said ‘For Spooner.’ You said it was an emergency.”
Jerry grinned. “For Spooner? No, she’s fine. I said for a nooner.” He glanced down at his half-hard cock and shrugged. “It’s kind of an emergency.”
“You’re kidding.”
“You’re not mad, are you? Sorry, you look upset. Or maybe exhausted. Are you okay?”
Ben scratched at the sore spot on his head. “I’m fine. I’m not mad at you. I hit my head, and I would have sworn you said Spooner so I was worried.”
“Sorry hon. Didn’t mean to worry you.” Jerry leaned over and gave him a light kiss.
“Mmm, nice.” Ben wrapped his arms around Jerry’s neck and pressed in. Jerry’s arms came around his waist, then Ben shuddered as cold ice cream slid down his back.
Ben jumped back. “Shit. You’re tipping your bowl.”
Jerry grimaced. “Sorry. Damn. I keep having to apologize to you today.”
Ben looked into the dripping, half empty bowl Jerry still held in his hands. “What the hell is that? Please tell me you don’t have tomatoes mixed in with your pistachio.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Ben sighed. “Nothing I guess. Just don’t ever give it to me that way, okay?”
“Check. No tomato with pistachio for you.” Jerry wiggled his eyebrows. “Hey, this mess works out, anyway. My surprise for you is in the shower.”
“There’s a surprise?” Things were looking up. He rather liked Jerry’s surprises.
Jerry got an intense look in his eyes. “You’re really gonna like this one.”
Sweet.
Jerry put his bowl down on the coffee table and led Ben to the spiral staircase leading up to the loft that had been the deciding selling point for the house.
Upstairs Jerry opened his top dresser drawer and pulled out a purple blindfold. Uh-oh. “When did you get that?”
“Last weekend. I want you blindfolded for the surprise.”
“O—kay.” He could go with that. He closed his eyes as Jerry wrapped the thing twice around his head.
Then Jerry stepped away. It was disorienting standing there in the dark. Ben put his hands up, reaching for Jerry.
A click and whirring noise cut the silence, and a barely detectable flash of light made it through the thick material of the blindfold. “What was that? A camera? Tell me you didn’t just take a picture of me standing here like a doofus.”
“Um, sorry, that’d be a lie.”
“That better not end up on the Internet.”
Jerry laughed. “Quit worrying. Just relax. You need to get undressed now for our shower.”
“Fine.” Ben pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt as Jerry went straight for his pants. Ben kicked out of his shoes so Jerry could get them off. His socks and boxers were peeled off last.
“Much better.” Jerry’s voice was cheery as he led Ben to the bathroom. Once there, Ben leaned against the wall as Jerry adjusted the water. “Okay, it’s hot enough, come on in.”
Ben stepped into the shower stall, but where was the water? He reached up to adjust the shower head, but it wasn’t there. Instead a hose ran out. He followed the hose down to a sprayer in Jerry’s hands.”
“When did we get a hand-held shower thingy?”
“I got it this weekend. You’re going to loved it. It’s not just any old sprayer, it’s a WaterPic shower massager.”
(Technically I’ve used all the prompt words now and could just end it here. But what the heck, they’re already nekkid…)
Ben laughed. “You sound like a commercial. But cool, that sounds good.”
“Just wait.” Jerry’s voice changed to his bossy tone. “Turn around. Put your hands on the wall.”
Ben shivered as a grin spread across his face, and he did as he was told.
Jerry started on his forearm, and worked up to his shoulder. It wasn’t too intense, but it was nice, and he relaxed into it.
When Jerry reached the other shoulder he adjusted the nozzle and water powered out, pulsing as he drew circles on Ben’s back with the powerful stream.
Ben moaned and dropped his head down. Damn, Jerry’d been right. He loved it. It was so relaxing. Jerry’s free hand landed on his ass, kneading his cheeks before trailing around to the front, right where Ben wanted it.
“Like the surprise?” Jerry’s voice was low in his ear.
Ben’s reply was more of a groan. “Love it. Don’t stop.”
“Do I ever?”
Nope, he sure didn’t. Jerry never stopped until after Ben expected him to. Of course, that was one of the many things he loved about the man.
Jerry’s brought the nozzle around to Ben’s front and the water jet pulsed across his chest. Ben pushed back as Jerry pressed against his back, grinding along the crack of his ass.
Jerry moved the water massager lower to circle around his abs as Jerry’s other hand maintained its firm, steady, slippery slide. Ben groaned as teeth nipped along his shoulder, and the grind against his ass turned frenzied.
“No.” Ben protested when Jerry’s hand dropped away. He was that close to coming. “Don’t fucking stop.”
“Just ramping it up a bit, love.” Jerry turned the nozzle on the shower head, this time to a less intense pulse, before grabbing Ben’s length again. Ben appreciated the water adjustment when the jet hit his balls.
Ben’s reaction was immediate. A groan tore through him as Jerry’s firm grip milked him.
The WaterPik dropped to the floor of the shower stall as Jerry pressed Ben up against the wall. Ben’s head fell back on Jerry’s shoulders and Jerry made his final frenzied thrusts along Ben’s crack. Jerry held him tightly, then moaned into his shoulder as heat spilled into the crush between them.
Long moments later, Jerry released him. Feeling disoriented in the dark, Ben kept his hands on the wall as Jerry retrieved the sprayer and rinsed them off.
The water turned off, and Jerry’s hands carefully unwound the blindfold. Ben turned to Jerry’s smiling face.
“Am I forgiven for my minor subterfuge to get you home?”
“I knew you’d said, ‘for Spooner.’”
Jerry grimaced. “Sorry. Forgive me?”
Ben sighed. “Of course.” Then he rolled his eyes and smiled. “It was worth it.”
“Love you.” Jerry’s grin was wide.
“Love you, too.”
🔽 🔼 100-Word DRABBLE - Shopping
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Uses the prompt words (kiss — jockstrap — eggplant) left in the comments of the previous week’s Flash Fiction Friday post, and for an additional photo-prompt I’m using the very yummy screen-printed image, below:
Told from Ben’s 3rd-person POV:
Ben rubbed his eyes as he stumbled into the kitchen. Jerry sat at the table with a bowl of cereal, a cup of coffee, and an open laptop in front of him.
“Good morning!” Jerry blew him a kiss. “Get enough sleep?”
Ben merely groaned. Actually, he’d slept like the dead after Jerry had worn him out, but he was so not a morning person. “What are you doing?”
“Shopping. Can’t decide if it’s for you or me.”
Ben looked over Jerry’s shoulder at the Andrew Christian jockstrap covered in little eggplant images and sputtered. “Pretty sure it’s for you.”
🔽 🔼 100-Word DRABBLE - Food Court Dilemma
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Uses this lovely image of two men kissing, and the word (interstice) left in the comments of the previous week’s Flash Fiction Friday post.
Told from Ben’s 3rd-person POV:
Ben grimaced as he and Jerry walked by the mall’s Chick-fil-A on their way to the Burger King. “My blood pressure still rises whenever I see one of those.”
“We can’t have that.” Jerry stopped in the middle of the food court and waggled his eyebrows. “Come here.”
“Huh? Why?”
Jerry pulled him in close and whispered, “I’m going to bring the interstice between our lips down to zero,” right before he planted a good long kiss on Ben’s unsuspecting mouth.
Ben grinned when Jerry pulled away. “Problem solved, but…interstice?”
Jerry shrugged. “It was the Merriam-Webster word of the day.”
🔽 🔼 100-Word DRABBLE - Tipsy Jerry
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Uses the words (glabrous — hairy) left in the comments of the previous week’s Flash Fiction Friday post.
Told from Ben’s 3rd-person POV:
Jerry giggled and trailed a finger along Ben’s abdomen. “Your treasure trail is glabrous.”
Ben snorted into Jerry’s neck. “How drunk are you?”
“I made up a word.” Jerry nipped his way down the path he’d just traced. “It means glorious plus fabulous, just like your beautiful, hairy, yummy, tummy.”
The vocabulary lesson could wait. Instead, Ben sighed and carded his fingers through the hair on Jerry’s head. “Your mouth is glabrous.”
“Nope,” Jerry mumbled into Ben’s hipbone. “You gotta make up your own word.”
Ben struggled to focus. “Won-tastic?”
As Jerry moved to the main event, Ben gasped, “amaz-erful!”
🔽 🔼 100-Word DRABBLE - Meatballs
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Uses the words (breakfast — meatballs) left in the comments of the previous week’s Flash Fiction Friday post.
Told from Jerry’s 3rd-person POV:
Ben stretched in Jerry’s arms. “Good morning,” he mumbled.
“A very good morning.” Jerry punctuated his words with a thrust of his hips and cut off any reply with a warm kiss. When he came up for air he grinned mischievously. “What’s for breakfast?”
Ben blinked a few times in apparent confusion before dawning realization lit his eyes. “Hm, how about pancakes?” His smile was as playful as Jerry’s.
Jerry simply shook his head.
“No? Bacon?” At Jerry’s raised eyebrow, Ben snickered and trailed a few kisses down Jerry’s chest. “I’m thinking meatballs. Or maybe meat and balls?”
🔽 🔼 A Yoga Kind of Morning
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Uses the words (yoga – yggdrasil – yoctosecond – bed – phone – waffle) left in the comments of the previous week’s Flash Fiction Friday post.
Here’s a bonus yummy inspirational image:
Told from Ben’s 3rd-person POV:
Ben propped the book of yoga poses he and Jerry had bought at the Yggdrasil spa retreat against the side of the bed, and flipped through a few pages. Some of the poses didn’t look too difficult.
He ignored the ringing phone and curled into the Bālāsana position. The shrill noise stopped as Jerry apparently answered the kitchen extension. Ben scrunched his face, which was pressed flat against the carpet. Maybe he was doing it wrong, but his muscles tensed rather than relaxed. He shifted, blew a bit of cat fuzz out of his mouth, and gave up.
Maybe the Marjariasana would be better. His lower legs and feet stayed in place, but he moved his arms and lifted his torso so he was on his hands and knees, and arched like a cat, letting his head drop forward. Breathing easily, he held the position as tension flowed from his limbs.
The smell of the waffles Jerry was making for breakfast wafted into the room. One more position, then he’d join his husband in the kitchen. He spread his legs and morphed into the Prasarita Padottanasana position.
“I love that one!”
Ben lurched and dropped onto his butt at Jerry’s unexpected words. He put a hand to his heart. “How long have you been standing there?” As if Jerry’s silly grin didn’t answer that question for him.
“Long enough.” Jerry waggled his eyebrows. “Another yoctosecond and I was going to jump you. That’s some wacky stuff. I thought I was supposed to be the odd duck in this family.”
Ben returned Jerry’s grin. “Breakfast can wait. Wanna?”
“Jump you?” Jerry growled and pulled Ben up. “Love to. Your granny’s on the phone, but maybe she’d like to listen.”
Ben winced. Jerry was joking, of course, but still…that image! “Don’t worry,” he groaned. “You’ve got the ‘odd duck’ prize wrapped up.”
🔽 🔼 Where, Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone?
This episode of Adventures with Ben and Jerry first appeared in Addison’s August, 2021 Newsletter using prompt words/phrases supplied by my newsletter subscribers.
Ben
Jerry hummed as he wandered around the living room, lifting cushions, peering under them and behind throw pillows. Mildly distracting, but it would take more than that to pull Ben away from the ebook he was reading.
“Hmm…” Jerry paused his humming and stopped in front of Ben. “Yellow eyes glowed in the dark,” Jerry boomed in an announcer voice better suited to an infomercial than a book narration. “And suddenly, An owl swooped towards him and crashed into the windshield.” Of course, outrageously exaggerated arm movements accompanied the words, because…well, he was Jerry.
Ben snorted and flashed a grin. “No, I’m not re-reading Josh Lanyon’s A Dangerous Thing, and I’m pretty sure that’s not an actual quote from the book even if it does kind of resemble a scene.”
Jerry’s lips quirked, and he resumed his apparent search through the living room, opening and closing drawers, then flattening himself on the floor to peer underneath the love seat. What on earth was Jerry humming? Was that, “Where, Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone?”
And better yet, why was he humming that particular old tune? Because Jerry always had a reason…and no doubt he wanted Ben to ask.
And Ben would ask. Just not yet. He stared at his Kindle, but Jerry’s antics proved more distracting than he wanted to let on.
From the floor, Jerry turned his announcer tone back on. “Jonathan scowled, but his younger brother, Charles, probably couldn’t hear the grumble rumbling in Jonathan’s throat because water lapped against the yacht so loudly you’d think the choppy waves had been churned up behind an old-fashioned steamboat ferry. Charles barely glanced up and calmly took another bite of his poached egg.”
Ben blinked. “Are you referencing that alternate ending bonus scene Addison Albright wrote for ‘Til Death Do Us Part?” He cocked his head. “I mean, the names fit, and they are on a yacht, but that’s about where the similarities end.”
“Wasn’t Charles eating a poached egg?”
“I’m pretty sure he was eating an unspecified breakfast sandwich.”
“Which, admit it, might have had a poached egg in it.”
Ben grinned. “I’ll give you that.” But he didn’t tack on the enquiry he knew Jerry wanted. Perplexing as Jerry’s choice of tune was, it was far more fun to let Jerry continue his efforts. “And you’re getting warmer.”
One of Jerry’s expressive eyebrows rose. “Ah, you’re reading something by the same author?”
Ben nodded and pointedly turned back to his Kindle.
Jerry resumed humming, and turned his search to the bookcases, lifting each shell in Ben’s collection to look underneath, and feeling between books. “Sheets rustled against bare skin,” Jerry’s announcer voice boomed, again pulling Ben away from the gripping time-travel story he was desperately trying to read. “but much to the octogenarian’s chagrin, he didn’t feel even the slightest twitch down below despite the well-paid, potent Adonis’s lucious golden locks cascading around him as warm lips caressed his corded neck.”
Ben choked around his laugh. “What part of ‘I’m reading a book by Addison Albright’ did you not understand?”
“I could picture him writing those words.”
“Her. And she’s a grandmother for goodness sakes. And I’m pretty sure she would never, ever, put that particular combination of words into a book.”
“Totally would. Bet she would put an indelible-ink-loaded pen to paper and totally write those words.”
Ben snorted again. “Okay, so maybe I could picture it in one of those flash fiction bits she writes where rabid readers give her a bunch of crazy prompt words that only an absolutely fabulous and wildly talented…” (yet oh-so-humble, imposter-syndrome-ridden, and curiously adjective and adverb-loving) “…writer such as she could cobble together into a coherent scene, but never, and I can’t emphasize that enough, would you read that paragraph in one of her published books.”
“Whatever.” But Jerry wore a smug grin, taking Ben’s semi-capitulation as a win.
“Okay, I give up.” Ben stood and stretched as their whimsical, bendy, narrow shelving that pretended to be a sassy grandfather clock chimed eleven p.m. It was bedtime anyway, so time to ask the questions Jerry had been trying to tease out of him. “What are you looking for, and why, of all things, are you humming ‘Where, Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone?’”
“Finally!” Jerry put a theatrical hand over his heart. “I’m looking for the, um, toys I bought last week.”
And just like that, the tune made sense, since one of said silicone toys was supposedly shaped like a dog’s…um…part. So Jerry had said, anyway. The other new toy looked like a scary snake, but—Ben shivered, remembering the night Jerry’d brought the new toys home—was actually far more pleasurable than a venomous snake bite would be.
A wide smile spread across Ben’s face. “I saw them both atop your dresser just a couple hours ago.”
Jerry’s comical eyebrows shot skyward. “You sure?”
Book forgotten—for now—Ben took Jerry’s hand and walked toward the spiral staircase leading to their bedroom suite. “Let’s go look.”
The promise of an exciting hour or so tonight, and an extra-tired but well worth it day tomorrow communicated perfectly via the gentle squeeze Jerry gave his hand.
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