A little scene of background on Ben and Denny's relationship. Set circa Season 2, Episode 8. I'm sure you'll catch the reference fairly quick. Rated M for sexual content. Ben/Denny. Third Person, Present Tense. See my blog for links to the explicit/MA version.

Disclaimer: I do not own Falling Skies.

Wrestling

Ben tries to give the girl in front of him a reassuring smile, but given that he is about to break into Charleston with a bunch of rebel skitters, he isn't succeeding. Denny is a new recruit to the cause, one of several unharnessed kids he's met since leaving the 2nd Mass. She is the only one around his age that he gets along with though. Most whine, or complain. Denny's like him, all she wants is another piece of the action.

She makes Ben a little nervous. He doesn't have much experience with girls in the first place, before or after the invasion. But Denny doesn't really act like any of the girls he's had extended exposure to. She likes fighting, she likes arguing, and is overall just plain aggressive. If she wants something, she gets it – closely followed by a clever blow to someone else's pride on most occasions.

"You sure you want to go alone?" Denny says, giving him a look that tells him she certainly doesn't think he should, "Red-Eye says they haven't heard back from the escort they sent earlier." Ben nods despite her protests and watches with some amusement as Denny sighs. She jumps to her feet, tossing words at him over her shoulder, "Your funeral." She's off tonight. And he's a little touched she cares so much that it affects her mocking skills.

Ben laughs, trying to brush it off, "That's pretty lame. Especially for you." He pauses before adding, "And I won't be alone, Red-Eye and a group of the skitters are going with me." Even with her back to him Ben knows she is rolling her eyes. Outside of Red-Eye, she doesn't trust a single skitter. He leans back with his arms in the dirt as Denny stretches hers to the sky. The thin sweater she's wearing rides up, snagging on her spikes. Ben's eyes roam over her, trailing down her back to her shapely bottom and further.

Denny's built like a dancer, with strong muscles and way more flexibility than necessary. She's the first person he's met in nearly two years who can get the drop on him. And he often finds his eyes raking over her body, far more than he wants them to. But he can't bring himself to look away.

"What are you smiling about?" Denny looks down at him with a curious look, hands on her hips now.

Ben shrugs, "Nothing." He's never been caught staring at her before, he's off tonight too.

She raises an eyebrow and knocks his shoulder with the heel of her left foot, "Don't lie."

He might be more intimidated if Denny didn't started smiling half-way through pushing him on to the ground. "Don't be mean," Ben says, rising to his feet in one silent, fluid motion. He's not as graceful as Denny, but they all have their own strengths.

Denny responds to his movement by punching his shoulder, drawing only more laughter. She isn't really trying at all, "Make me." This is usually when they start sparring, much to most of the skitters's bewilderment. They don't understand the need to 'blow off steam,' despite all of Ben's attempts at explaining. The rough tumbling and hard strikes make them feel human, alive. It makes them feel.

But tonight Ben has other plans. Ones that will make him feel more than any kick to the abdomen would. He side-steps Denny with a smile and starts towards the skitters's main camp. They leave Ben and Denny to their own devices most of the time and with the recent move to a heavily forested hillside; the two utilize that freedom.

"What?" Denny narrows her eyes and follows after him, "So you're just going to leave me by myself with the skitters, without even a good-bye spar?" Denny has a tendency towards sarcasm and drama. Ben figured that out fairly quick after meeting her.

"Yup," Ben let the last letter pop. He walks slower than usually. Just a little. Enough to give Denny more time to respond but not enough for her realize what he's doing. That would not end well. He still had a bruise from the time he mentioned that he couldn't hit her because she was a girl. That was over a month ago. Denny's still figuring out how to harness her new strength.

He expected a shove, maybe one of her real punches, from his words. Not a tackle. It hurt more than he expected too.

They grapple on the ground for a while. Ben always found himself on his back in these situations though and this one is no exception. Denny catches both of Ben's wrists and forces them above his head. Leveraging her knees on the ground to best utilize her strength and locking her ankles over his thighs to lessen his lower-body movement. She finds herself straddling Ben.

Denny lords over him triumphantly, "I always get what I want Mason, haven't you figured that out by now?"

The distraction of her heaving chest keeps Ben's mouth firmly shut. Denny is a little breathless, even with her alien-enhanced strength Ben can be difficult to overpower. He has much more practice with their abilities than she does. Denny follows his eyes though, even in the dark, and with a small smirk she squeezes his wrists just a bit tighter.

Ben grunts, unhappy with this arrangement. He tries rolling them, but Denny has prepared for this after their last wrestling match. She tightens her hold around his waist, pressing closer to him than Ben finds comfortable.

"You're never going to win, Benji," Denny's voice taunts him as he tries to grab her wrists, if he could pull her up just a few inches he'd be able to use his legs to throw her off. Denny sees it coming though, having been the one to use it on him. She slides her hands higher. Ben cringes as she grinds his hands into the dirt. He has a theory that she doesn't actually try to control her strength.

"Denny." Ben says with as much authority as he can muster. She just keeps grinning, "You've got to let me up eventually."

"No I don't," Denny says, pulling her signature 'shut-up-I'm-right' face, "It takes a lot more than some tense muscles to make me tired, remember?" He doesn't point out the fact that her shortness of breath earlier says otherwise.

Ben bites his lip, thinking up a plan of attack as he observes Denny from below. It was a little distracting having her hips on top of his. Two years ago Ben couldn't even dream up a situation that had a girl like Denny straddling him. And alien invasion or not, he is a straight sixteen-year-old male.

A blush graces Ben's face as he takes in how close they are. The way Denny angled her chest meant their upper-bodies were only an inch or so apart and their lower-bodies are pressed exceedingly close if you ask him. Even his spikes are starting to hurt from being pressed into the ground. Eventually his gaze moves upwards to Denny's face, which hovers above his by less than three inches.

The mischievous glint in her chocolate eyes and the creamy look of her dark skin despite the dirt they're always covered in. They made for a rather attractive combo. Then there were her lips. Ben bites his own, hoping Denny doesn't notice the way his body is reacting to hers. He's already in enough trouble.

He made a quick, irrational decision. Lunging forward Ben lets his shoulders scream as he moves them the wrong way. Ben's mouth latches on to Denny's neck and her hands loosen in shock. He grabs her waist and flips them over. The low ache throughout his spin eases, but not the other one.

It's his turn to grin down at her now, "I believe it's my turn to boast." Ben is just as strong as Denny, but all the times Hal had restrained him to win some stupid argument had taught him very well how to do the same to someone else.

"Is this really how you want to play this?" Denny says, staring up at him in such a way that a spark of nerves flies up his spine along with the one for excitement.

"If it's the way I win, yes," Ben says with a little hesitation. Denny is smirking though and nothing makes Ben tenser than seeing that smirk. Not even the sight of skitters and mechs.

Her hips begin to move beneath him, "But I can do far more to you from this position than you can from yours, Benji." And the way she says his name sends a shiver through his whole body. Ben swears even the spikes are tingling.

Not to mention what her hips are doing to him. And Ben's eyes don't want to stay on her face when her body is moving the way it is. The traitorous things move down her body, memorizing every curve to taunt him with later in his sleep. His breathing is becoming harsher, but he refuses to loosen his grip. If anything he is pretty sure his legs tighten their hold on the girl below him the second she starts to move. A poor attempt at stopping her.

Ben lowers his head, resting it on her chest just above her breasts in a way he wouldn't have even considered if he were thinking rationally. Denny can feel his breath through the fabric of her shirt and instinctively arches her back. She says his name in a low voice, almost a growl.

His grip on her wrists drops and he grabs the knife he keeps sheathed at his leg. Ben sits up, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Denny's eyes follow the blade as it moves closer to her, but fear never enters her mind. Only arousal as she watches him slice through her sweater in one swift tug of his wrist down her chest, revealing a long expanse of skin. He plunges the dagger into the ground above them as his lips latch onto that skin.

Denny's collarbone comes first. The tiny bruises from his biting and sucking won't be obvious until the morning, but Denny enjoys their creation. Her fingers slip into the belt loops of his cargo pants as her hands tighten around his waist. She holds him still as she inflicts her torture, further enraging the monster she's created.

Jolts of desire ignite his groin as her legs wrap around him and he find himself nestled between her rotating hips. He pulls his gloves off and firmly cups the soft flesh of her breasts, earning a small gasp from the girl beneath him. His calloused fingers begin rubbing along the skin, circling her nipples. Ben feels the nubs harden against his thumbs as her breathing labors. He dips his head lower to trail a few kisses down the valley between her breasts.

His name tumbles from Denny's lips and a victorious smile flashes across his face. Hands slip down her sides, beneath her ruined top, to rest on her back between her spikes. Pulling her upwards Ben slams her body against his, getting rid of any space there might have been there as he claims her lips with his own.

As in everything else their tongues fight for dominance in a violent clash of teeth, lips, and moans. Denny's hands force their way between them and over his throbbing erection. A button and a zipper later she's palming the hot flesh, feeling Ben's pulse quicken with every movement of her fingers. "I want something, Benji," she says between battles of their mouths.

Their eyes challenge each other, breathing hard as their lips rest against one another, Ben whispers his response "And you always get what you want." Denny grins and presses forward, knocking Ben onto his back once more. She marks his neck with her own bites. The skitters will question it later, along with the bruises and the torn clothes. But neither of them have much trouble deceiving skitters. And the morning is the farthest thing from their minds right now.

R&R