
Friends withwith benefits
People say that friends with benefits can never work but it did perfectly in my case. We’re now married with two kids. We own a house. A dog. Neither of us saw it coming. Back then we were in our early twenties, basically still kids and convinced we could make friends with benefits work, no feelings attached.
Luke was my housemate at university. I fell out with all my previous ones, had nowhere to stay, so I had no option but to sign for a room in a house full of strange students.
Turns out we all got on well. Come social Wednesdays, we’d all go out as a house, get drunk and spend all day Thursday skipping lectures, nursing a hangover and eating our body weight in Mcdonald’s.
Luke was the guy on campus that everybody knew. Tall and with these soft curls of blonde hair that always fell perfect over his face, he was never short of attention, especially from the netball girls – he had a lot of dealings with them.
And so did I.
Luke and I used to both have Friday 9ams so naturally, living at the same address, we’d walk onto campus together. He was dating some girl from the netball team at the time. An entire posse of them used to surround me, all up in my face with their spider leg eyelash extensions that were well overdue an infill, to tell me that I needed to keep away from him or else.
I couldn’t be arsed with them. Telling them that Luke and I were platonic, just housemates, became like talking to a brick wall but Stacey, the girl he was dating, was adamant that something else was going on.
It wasn’t.
Not at this point anyway.
Luke broke up with her, said to come back when she sorted out her trust issues, and he went AWOL for a week until he felt okay to face the world again.
I tell him he did the right thing.
He says to me he thought he managed to hide it.
“Hide what?” I say with a scowl.
He drops his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest. “My eyes for you.”
My jaw drops.
“Nothing romantic. Don’t freak out. Just… ” he rubs his fingers, searching for an answer. “Physical.”
And that’s when we agree friends with benefits. It’s the perfect solution. Luke is smoking hot, turns out I’m not horrendous to look at either. We each get sex, good sex might I add, and we part ways at graduation. Neither of us want a committed relationship right now, Luke too emotionally unavailable; me working overseas after graduation.
Perfect.
Much like the sex.
The first time we do it is after a night well spent out at Wednesday socials. We’re in the student club, me and him, sipping drinks and dancing on the dancefloor. The netball girls all scowl, talk behind our backs but they never one buckle up the courage to say anything to our faces, so Luke and I laugh. Crack on with our night which, might I add, is oozing with sexual tension. I see it in his eyes, that look Stacey claimed she used to see. He’s not hiding it anymore. Taking a sip of his drink, looking at me the whole time. Eyes woozy with desire.
My heart thumps in my chest. I’m wet, wetter than I’ve ever been and we haven’t even done anything yet.
His body brushes against mine, warm and soft and smelling of cologne. “Wanna get out of here?”
I should’ve brought my apple watch with me to time how long it took us to run back home – probably broke a personal record. I rush up the stairs, he comes up behind me, grabs my arse, and then we’re locking my bedroom door behind us and tearing off one another’s clothes.
He moans this heavenly sound and takes out his dick – it’s massive, not like I’m surprised. I didn’t expect anything less.
No time for foreplay. He pushes deep into me and already, two thrusts in, I feel the edges of my vision start to blacken.
“I’ve wanted to fuck you for ages,” he says between broken breaths.
I’ve always wanted to fuck him too – look at the man, he’s god’s favourite – but there always seemed to be others. He was always with another girl.
It hits me two weeks in. This is when reality hits and the ground starts to swallow me up because friends with benefits doesn’t mean exclusive and I find myself attached to him. He’s my first thought in the morning. The last at night.
This isn’t a good idea. I’m getting hurt.
So two Wednesday socials later when he’s snogging some other girl on the dancefloor, I interrupt. Say I’m done.
He chases after me.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just… if I only see you, I’m afraid of what will happen.”
“What do you mean?”
Turns out there’s feelings involved for both parties.
I say I can’t do it. “I’m still contracted to work overseas for a year.”
He says the time isn’t right. “Even if we did try to make it work, long distance is a bitch. It would tear us apart.”
So we leave it. Exchange nothing more than awkward glances in the kitchen up until graduation, which we spend separately.
I fly to Paris, work away for the year. I indulge in the odd one night stand – try to at least. I can only get off by pretending the dick inside of me is Luke’s. That we’re fucking again. I keep my eyes closed so I can imagine those blonde locks of hair falling over his face. His nose. How it scrunches up when he comes.
But the wave of sadness that follows post sex isn’t worth it.
I do my job. Fly back to the UK when my visa expires with two large suitcases and a semi-fluent french accent.
And who’s there to pick me up?
“It’s a long shot and you’ve probably moved on. But I need closure,” Luke says, eyes drawn apart in desperation. “I don’t know why I’m here, I just… needed to see you once more.”
I wrap my arms around him. His scent fills every cell in my body with relief.
And that’s that.