EWB: Enemies With Benefits

by N.R. Walker

I hated Valentine Tye. I hated him because I’d let my team down, and I hated him because he was still at the private school and I was at the public Shithole High.

These are very flimsy reasons.

I hated that he had the perfect life—an easy life—while I kept my head down, trying not to be obvious about checking guys out in the dressing rooms.

I fucking hated him for making me want him.

Or we have a solid reason.

It didn’t hurt that Marshall Wise looked at me as if he wanted to kill me. I found it incredibly provocative. Arousing. And he’d always looked at me as if he hated me.

And just like that, this game we played—where he hated me and I got off on it—entered new ground.

Because the eldest son, the heir and likely successor to the Tye Corp empire, couldn’t be anything less than perfect. And gay, as my father would like to remind me, was not perfect. And being gay wasn’t even my darkest secret.

“I want you to hate me. I need you to hate me.”

He still wore his jeans, undone and open. He still wore his shoes and shirt, as if I wasn’t worth his time to take them off. I preened a little.

I was bereft by his absence, hollowed out and empty. I wanted him to stay inside me. I wanted him to stay inside me until he was ready to fuck me again. I wanted his seed inside me. So he’d know he owned me, and he could treat me as if he owned me anytime he wanted. I wanted it to never end.

My guy is down bad for a dom.

“What—and I mean this with as much sincerity as possible—the actual fuck? You want me to hate-fuck you?” Hate-fuck. That made me smile. “Yes.”

Because I liked knowing that I’d been inside him, that I’d fucked him. That I’d fucked him so hard he came all over himself.

Not that Valentine and I were friends. We were the opposite of that. We were what with benefits? Enemies? Was ‘enemies with benefits’ a thing?

To not give into whims and practice self-discipline was something I’d prided myself on. After all, torturing myself was a skill I’d perfected years ago.

He was relentless. He was perfect. I’d gone to bed feeling lighter and less stressed, as if he’d shared the weight of my burdens. My throat was sore the next day, and every time it pained me to swallow or talk, I flushed at the memory.

Part of me wanted him to own me so badly, I couldn’t even think straight.

He’d claimed me. Owned me like I was something to use and throw away. I smiled into the silence.

I’m happy for him.

Yes, it was fucked up. Me marking him? I was totally on board with that, and so was he. But someone else? Someone else hurting him? Yeah, that didn’t fly with me.

He protecc

I just wanted him to know that I could ruin him, leave him a shattered, sated mess, no matter which way I decided to take him. I wanted him to be such a whore for me, to beg for it.

Christ. Was I in over my head? I was beginning to think I was. Would I stop seeing him? No.

He was fucking beautiful. He was so sexy like this it took my breath away. I ignored the thump of my heart, the knock against my ribs that should have given me pause. I should have called it what it was. That maybe I didn’t hate Valentine as much as I used to . . .

I wanted to stretch him thin, to iron out any knots and troubles, and hold him. I wanted to kiss him, make sure he ate properly. I wanted to make him smile. I wanted to fix him.

I closed my eyes for just a second and my heart was thumping for different reasons. Not the exertion, not the cardio marathon we’d just done. No, it was thumping, two-sizes too big, because of Valentine reasons. Valentine fucking Tye reasons. I was too tired to care. Too exhausted, too heavy, too comfortable. Too happy.

“You know what? I’m not fucking sorry about that either. I am the only one who can touch you, and if any fucker thinks they can hurt you, I’ll send them to hospital too. I don’t give a fuck. I protect what’s mine. That’s who I am and it’s what I do, and I won’t apologise for it. If you don’t like that, then . . . then fucking tell me now.”

And yeah, it’s confusing and a total mindfuck, because I spent my whole life hating you, and yet here I am. It is confusing. But for some fucked-up reason, I find myself needing to soften the barbs a little. Fucked if I know why. And I think you need me to.”

Oh yeah. I was in deep trouble. Deeeeeep. Like Marianna Trench levels of deep. And you know what? I didn’t fucking care.

I didn’t deal well with emotional attachment, and I’d never needed the company of others. But his texts every night while I was in Melbourne were the absolute highlight of each day. I found myself smiling long after they’d ended.

“And if you wear this shirt, it’s like you’re saying Marshall did this, and no one but us will know.” What the hell? I had no idea what to make of that. “You want me to wear something that identifies me as yours,” I asked, my voice quiet.

He LOVES owning him and Val loves being owned!

Handing over that control was my favourite part. In that moment, I never felt freer. Especially with Marshall, because I trusted him so completely. It was total surrender.

I felt safe and cherished. I knew there was no emotional connection on his behalf, and I told my heart not to get too excited.

Oh you’d be surprised to see the emotional connection on Marshall’s side Val.

But what I needed to do was be a fucking grown up and talk to him. I hadn’t wanted to force his hand, to find out what the fuck we were, but apparently tonight was it. We’d either be finished or we’d be . . . something else.

All this over not knowing it was his b-day. My boy is a SIMP

“It’s special to me. And you didn’t just show me kindness. You showed me what was possible, and what I could have. And what I’ll miss when you leave me. What I will never find again.

Not me getting emotional.

I didn’t hate Valentine Tye anymore. I hadn’t for a while. I didn’t know what it meant for us or where we went from here. But he was on the same page as me. And, for tonight, that was enough.

We don’t have to get out of the car. Maccas?

I keep forgetting they’re Australian. So maccas is McDonald’s.

He’s a Leo. Explains some things.

All my life people have given in to me or yielded to me because of who I am, because of who my father is. Yes, Valentine. Anything you want, Valentine.” He rolled his eyes. “But not you. You bend me over and hold me down and call me names, tell me I’m worthless and for some fucked-up reason it validates me. It reminds me that I’m not invincible, that I’m human.”

🥹

“I’m seeing a guy,” I blurted out. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “The . . . the person I’m seeing is a man. So now you know why it’s a secret. It’s always been a secret. Christ, I have no idea why I told you. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I stared at her. I mean, I knew what point she was trying to make. And it was valid. “Pretty sure he’d know if I was dating a guy.” She shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t.”

“Not coming out isn’t about a lack of bravery. For some, not coming out is about survival. And don’t judge your own story against anyone else’s. It’s gotta be the right time for you. Not anyone else.”

“Bullshit. He’d tell me about the randoms because they meant nothing. But he didn’t tell me about you because there is something to tell. Whatever the fuck this is between you actually means something to him.” I shook my head, not daring to believe it.

Why him, of all people? You say that as if that’s a bad thing? He’s the only person who understands you, Valentine. The only person who’s ever understood you. You have feelings for him and you know it.

“In case you’re as oblivious as he is, he’s got it bad for you. That man is in deep.” I shook my head. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Lleyton laughed. “What time did he leave this morning? Did he cook you breakfast?” Fuck.

DOWN BAD

It struck me how happy it made me. But then Marshall shoved me onto the bed, folded me in half and fucked me good and hard. Like he loathed me. Like he couldn’t get enough of me. Like he loved me.

He does love you bb

There was a tenderness to Valentine I wasn’t expecting, and it squeezed my heart, made my knees weak.

“Is that what you are?” Oh boy. Okay, here goes nothing. I probably wasn’t ready to do this but it was now or never. I was putting my cards on the table, consequences be damned.

Confess!

I put my hand to his cheek. “You don’t have to be on your own anymore.” He pulled his face back. “I don’t need you.” “Well, too bad. You’ve got me.” “I don’t want you.” “I said too fucking bad.”

Dont let him lash out from anger! He needs you

“I don’t . . .” he said. “I don’t want you.” I never budged, never lessened my hold. “No. You don’t want to want me. You don’t want to need me. But you do.” Valentine shook his head. “No.” “And I don’t want to want you either,” I murmured. “But I do.”

Admit you love each other

“Bullshit. You cannot lie to me.” “I don’t need anything—” “You need me!”

“You need me to love you and it terrifies you.”

💯

“I hate a lot of things about you,” I said quietly. “I hate that you think so little of yourself when I think you’re kinda great. I hate that your parents cast you aside and use you, and they make you feel worthless when everything you do is for them. I hate that you put up these walls of ice like you need to protect yourself. I hate that you—”

“Okay,” I whispered, tears in my eyes. “I can’t make you love me. But I can love you. I know you think you’re not loveable, or you’re not worth worthy of it, but you are.” God, my heart hurt so damn much. “I wish I could make you see that.”