Ben is a man of many words but when his body is naked he feels like he has been stripped off his eloquence. Even after months of sleeping with John, the affection he'd been given would render him speechless. His whole life he had been hungry for someone else's touch up to the point where masturbation would feel like any other lie he used to get through the day. It left the same bitter taste. But being with John was sweet, it was honest – regardless of how much Ben struggled to accept that there was someone who not only wanted but loved to touch him.

The first time he had sex with John hadn't been the first time he tried to be intimate with someone. In his time off the island he found himself in desperate need of company and when one lonely night a prostitute offered him her services he invited her back to his hotel room. He watched her carefully as she undressed in front of him and imagined how the skin on her neck might taste like. How soft would her breasts lie in his hands when she'd sit on top of him? How warm and tight would her body be inside? But when she was fully naked and proceeded to unbutton his shirt, he changed his mind without ever having so much as touched her. He thanked her for her time, asked her to leave and paid her more than what they had agreed on. Under different circumstances he would have given in to his needs that night, but he didn't want his first time to be nothing but a transaction. Not another lie.

A year later he had learned exactly which rhythm he had to use to make John climax and he took some pride in that. But he still didn't dare to tell John what he really desired. Given the backstory they had he thought it to be highly inappropriate and was ashamed of himself for even thinking about it.

But eventually Ben's silence became so loud that it was impossible to ignore. "Is there something you want to talk about?" John asked one night when Ben was already half naked and impatiently waited for John to undress him further. He froze at John's question and couldn't help but feel awkward about his own nudity.

Ben shook his head – the only response he was capable of – and then he felt bad about lying. He had promised not to lie again but telling the truth was impossible and he tried to convince himself that it counted as a white lie. Too afraid was he that John wouldn't understand or worse: that he'd be so disgusted that he'd leave him. He rather lied than risk losing John.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" John said, in the same caring yet patient tone he always used when he was slightly worried. "If there's something you're not happy with in our relationship-"

"I'm very happy," Ben interrupted. "Believe me, I'm happy."

John rolled over on his side, and let his fingers run through Ben's hair – a calming gesture that he resorted to whenever Ben seemed agitated in any way. Then he covered Ben's body with a blanket, making him feel a little more comfortable and a lot less exposed, even though the only eyes that saw him were his boyfriend's.

"Alright," John said quietly. "But I know that you're hiding something from me. I'm not trying to persuade you into telling me something you don't want to but I really hope you know that whatever it is – I love you."

A half smile escaped Ben's lips, then he snuggled up to John and kissed his neck. "I love you, too," he whispered and could almost begin to taste the secret in his mouth. It was there, lying on the tip of his tongue just waiting to be spat out. A part of him wanted to say it so badly but he just didn't know how. If he couldn't even make sense of it for himself then how was he supposed to explain it to someone else? "I don't know how to say it," he muttered without looking up at John.

"Does it have to do with sex?" John asked.

Ben replied with a shy and almost inaudible "yes".

John sighed and – much to Ben's surprise – almost sounded relieved. "There's nothing you have to be ashamed of, Benjamin. You can tell me."

He loved it so much when John called him Benjamin instead of Ben. He didn't do it often but when he did it was filled with as much passion as one could possibly put into those three syllables.

Ben wet his lips and closed his eyes, hoping that the words would find their way back to him if he stopped looking for them. "Do you remember when we first met?" he eventually asked.

"You mean when I met Henry Gale from Minnesota?" John asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Yes, of course I remember."

It hurt to be reminded that not even their first encounter had been honest. Their whole relationship started off with a charade and Ben wished it would have been different. But nonetheless he could not deny it any longer, no matter how absurd it seemed to him. "I liked being Henry."

"What? What do you mean?"

Ben was speechless again. Whenever the jigsaw of thoughts formed a coherent sentence in his mind the pieces started falling apart again just a moment later. "I mean that I liked it."

"You were our prisoner," John said with a confused frown on his face.

"Yes," Ben hissed, getting impatient with himself, with this conversation, with everything. "I didn't like the torture obviously… but the rest. I liked it when you were there."

"Are you saying you liked being my prisoner? That it turned you on?"

Ben nodded, holding his breath, hoping this moment would last forever so he wouldn't have to face John's rejection that he was convinced would follow any second. "I'm so sorry," he said and started crying.

"Sorry? Why?"

"For being so disgusting." His lips were shivering as he tried not to break under the weight of how guilty his desire made him feel.

"No. Benjamin. That's not disgusting. It's just a fantasy. Everyone has fantasies." John pulled him closer and held him tightly against his chest.

Ben had expected that he'd push him away instead and was startled by John's affection and his kind and comforting words. "So, do you have fantasies, too?" he asked, his eyes wide open and filled with curiosity.

"I sure do," John answered, "but I'd rather talk about yours now. I wonder why you think it's disgusting? You know, a lot of people are into that sorta thing and I don't see why you or anyone should be ashamed of it."

"It feels so wrong to be aroused by that when both of us have actually been through that sorta thing in reality. We locked each other up in dark, cold rooms. We hurt each other. To say the least: we weren't nice to each other."

"But things have changed. We have changed." John shrugged and took a deep breath. "It is not wrong if that's what you need, Ben. And to be honest I am not even that surprised that it turns you on."

"You're not?"

"No. It makes sense," John said with a laugh. "You're so desperately in need of control. That prisoner thing might be the only scenario in which you can allow yourself to completely give in to your own pleasure, because you'd be forced to surrender."

John was right, that explanation did make sense to Ben, but he still couldn't quite shake the weird feeling in his stomach, the thought that what he desired was somehow disgraceful. And then there was this sudden fear that John would get a wrong idea. "I don't want you to think that I don't enjoy the sex we usually have. I like it a lot."

"I know. Me, too," John said with a big grin on his face. "What exactly turns you on though in that prisoner fantasy?"

"I don't know," Ben stammered. "Whenever I heard that someone was about to open that door I was hoping it would be you. And when it was you I just couldn't stop imagining-" he stopped and looked at John. He didn't dare to hope that John would share this fantasy but at least he seemed to understand it.

"Go on," John said.

"I wanted you to just grab me and… and push me against the wall and just take me. Take what you want… and be rough and angry and make me do things. Make me yours. And I just couldn't fight it." The tiny glimpse of confidence he had gained from John's interest had been fading with every word. Now he felt bad again but relieved at the same time for the words had finally escaped him, the words that had tasted so filthy – at least they were gone now.

John nodded slowly with the look he always had in his eyes when he listened maybe a little too carefully. "It does sound kinda hot when you say it like that."

"What?"

"It sounds hot," John repeated in a mellower, more sensual voice. "I mean, I've never done anything like that. I've always had rather conventional sex, I guess. But I think if we agreed on some rules then I'd be up for giving it a try."

"Are you serious?" Ben asked but didn't have to wait for an answer. The way how John was biting his lips to suppress an aroused grin gave it all away. "What kind of rules?"

John laughed. "I don't know. Like... I'm not sure how much I'd be willing to hurt you."

Ben shook his head. "Don't worry, it's not that important. I mean… I wouldn't mind some pain but not if it makes you uncomfortable."

"I think I'd be okay with spanking," John said after a moment of contemplation. "Would you like that?"

"Yes," Ben said breathlessly and amazed by how easy everything was to John. He was so casual about it, not even blushing slightly, as if it were an innocent everyday conversation. At least one of them seemed to know what he was talking about, Ben thought and it made him relax a bit more.

"We'd need a safeword though," John said before placing a soft kiss on Ben's forehead and he continued with his lips still touching Ben's skin, "you know, for when it gets too rough."

A smile lightened up Ben's face. Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined John would be so forthcoming. He wasn't sure at first whether John was just willing to dive into these sexual explorations for Ben's sake but now he was convinced that John really was curious about it, too. They talked all night about what they imagined to feel good and where there limits would be. At first it was mostly John asking the questions and Ben answering with Yes or No but with time Ben got more confident and dared to make his own suggestions. Until eventually they stopped talking, and started doing.