Chapter Text
Thunder rumbled faintly behind indistinguishable masses of dark cloud, and sometime after midnight, the rain began to fall. Raindrops drummed a steady rhythm against the rusted gutters outside the cracked-open window of Benny's apartment. Warm, humid air drifted into the room carrying the muted scent of wet pavement, engine oil, and iron as the rain washed away whatever traces of blood remained in Roanapur's streets.
Benny sat at his desk dressed only in a pair of boxers, hunched over his computer with one knee bouncing absently beneath it. His glasses had slipped slightly down his nose while lines of green code reflected across the lenses. Sometime during the night, his long blond hair had partially escaped its tie, leaving loose strands brushing against his jaw and neck. Even half-awake, he looked intensely focused, his fingers moving automatically across the keyboard with practiced efficiency.
“You want me to close it?”
He turned his swivel chair toward the bed. Jane lay stretched out on her stomach beneath a tangle of thin sheets, watching him through half-lidded eyes.
He pondered over it for a moment.
The room smelled faintly of musty electronics, old furniture, dried sweat, and sex. It was neither unpleasant nor overwhelming, though he supposed he had long since grown accustomed to it. The scent even lingered softly on his skin from their earlier intimacy.
Jane reached for a cigarette on the nightstand and pushed herself upright against the headboard. The covers slipped to her waist, and Benny's gaze drifted automatically toward her generous chest as it rose with a slow inhale. In the dim light, she looked thoroughly satisfied and deeply relaxed. Her warm brown skin seemed almost luminous with the monitor glow, while her short blonde hair fell messily around her face. It was, Benny thought, the best possible outcome whenever they spent the night together.
“Just leave it, let the air in.” he eventually replied. “Did I wake you?”
“I wasn’t asleep,” She denied immediately. Yet Jane’s voice was still deep and rough from it. Benny chose not to point out the obvious. “I’ve been awake for at least ten minutes.”
“If you say so.”
Benny turned back to look at his computer screen and resumed typing, while Jane continued to smoke in silence.
Three glowing computer monitors dominated the desk opposite the bed. Tangled cables spilled from the tabletop into random boxes on the floor. Half-disassembled radios sat beside old circuit boards and several stained coffee mugs whose interiors had long since turned brown from neglect. Overhead, a dusty ceiling fan rotated lazily, maintaining the airflow. Against the far wall stood an old wardrobe. One door hung open, revealing an assortment of unorganised clothing: faded T-shirts, hoodies, a jacket, several pairs of pants. Some items hung from battered hangers while others had collapsed into untidy piles.
Then her eyes landed on the bedroom door, where a familiar Hawaiian shirt hung there on a hanger. Benny's favorite. At least, she assumed it was.
Loud orange fabric patterned with faded green leaves, worn soft through years of washing. The collar curled slightly at one corner, and one sleeve had been carefully repaired where it had once torn.
On anyone else, it would have made them look completely out of place among Roanapur’s aesthetic.
On Benny, somehow, it worked. Completely natural. Jane narrowed her eyes at it from her spot on the bed.
“I got a question.”
Benny made a non-committal, yet curious sound.
“Your Hawaiian shirt.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “What about it?”
“You obviously own other clothes.” She gestured towards the wardrobe. “But you wear that one all the time.”
“Not always.”
Jane waved one hand dismissively. “You know what I mean. When we go out. When you go on jobs.” She paused thoughtfully. “Like four out of five times, it’s that shirt. Is it like-did you lose a bet? Or something?”
Benny glanced at it hanging on the door and scratched his beard. “Are you asking because you’re genuinely curious or because you’re grumpy cause you can’t sleep?”
“What does it matter?” Jane answered drily, slightly irritated. “I’m saying people don’t usually choose a Hawaiian shirt as their everyday thing, you know. Especially here.”
“Well, why not?” Benny countered. “Nobody cares.”
“Just answer the damn question.”
Benny leaned back slowly in his chair. His mouth went through a couple of motions as he obviously thought about it. Eventually, he rubbed a tired hand over his face and adjusted his glasses. The exhaustion beneath his eyes was obvious. Jane noticed it immediately. She was hardly a stranger to insomnia. She saw it among her own people all the time. Maybe it was the coffee. Maybe the alcohol. Maybe it was the endless hours spent staring at screens and solving problems nobody else could solve.
But she’s not going to judge, considering her own lifestyle. Everyone needs something to keep them going.
“It’s… not really about the shirt.” He hesitated, eventually. Something about the way he said it made Jane stub out her cigarette and sit up straighter, pulling her knees toward her chest. “I didn’t buy it here.”
Roanapur changed people. Everyone knew that. But Benny rarely spoke about the version of himself that existed before the city got hold of him.
The rain continued outside, steady against the windows now. Somewhere downstairs, a motorcycle engine roared briefly before it faded away, into the growing storm.
Jane tilted her head slightly. “No?”
“No.” A faint smile touched Benny’s mouth. God. He looked good when he smiled.
Not just because he was handsome in that awkward, perpetually exhausted hacker sort of way. Not just because he was smart enough to challenge her. She liked him because beneath all the cynicism Roanapur had carved into him, there was still something strangely gentle.
“Actually,” he admitted. “It was kind of a joke.” A faint blush appeared on his cheeks.
“Back in Florida,” Benny began and turned his chair to look at her fully. “I had this friend. When I was still studying in university. How many years was that now?” He shook his head. “Anyway. He was from the computer science department. Bit of an asshole.”
“He used to complain that I dressed like an accountant. Back when I was basically Rock, but total nerd kind of way. Imagine like in the movies-white button down, some slacks, whatever.” He laughed softly at the memory. “One night, we got dragged into some tourist bar. This was spring break, if I remember correctly. Everyone was drunk. Somebody threw up on me. I could still remember the smell.” His face twisted into a grimace.
Jane laughed. But it felt strange imagining him there, like that. Younger Benny in sunny Florida. She has never went to university herself, but she’s seen, been to tons of beaches. She’s unsure how it all works, how it’s supposed to be, but she kept it to herself.
“He saw this shirt at one of those beach souvenir shops and bought it for me to wear. He thought it’d be funny.”
The amusement slowly faded from her face then. “What… happened to your friend?”
Benny’s expression stilled. For a second, he looked as though he might dodge the question. Instead, he shrugged. “Ah, we just sorta… lost contact after I ran.”
And there it was. It wasn’t dramatic, nor tragic in the cinematic sense. He was just gone. Jane knew enough about Benny’s past to understand that his old life had not ended all at once. It was stripped piece by piece beneath pressure from the FBI, organised crime, and the kinds of mistakes brilliant young men make when they believe they’re untouchable.
Then Revy had dragged him out of the fire and dumped him in Roanapur, where people survived by becoming someone else.
Benny’s eyes drifted beyond the monitors now. “After everything happened,” he said quietly, “it was kinda the only thing that I still had from before. I don’t know how.”
The room suddenly felt smaller to Jane. More intimate. Jane found herself staring at the shirt again. It looked painfully human.
She pushed aside the sheets and slid off the bed, carefully stepping around cables, tools, and assorted junk scattered across the floor. Then she crossed the room and settled herself gently into his lap. His thighs twitched when it came in contact with her skin and she let her lips shape into a small smile.
Up close, she could see exhaustion lingering beneath his eyes.
Benny wore tiredness differently than other people in Roanapur. Revy burned, raged with it. Dutch buried it beneath control, while Rock drowned in thought. But Benny, he simply carried it quietly.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Benny shook his head, then Jane felt his mouth curve upward again. “I know it sounds stupid,” he admitted after a moment. “But without it…” He paused briefly, searching for the words. “Without it, sometimes it feels like Roanapur might actually get to me.”
Jane felt her heart tighten. He said it so plainly, so honestly. Jane immediately knew it was the admission. Part of the exhaustion that he carried alone for far too long. Benny’s fingers tightened its grip on the armrest.
“It’s dumb, I know.” he muttered. “It’s just a shirt.”
Jane sighed. “It’s really not.” Roanapur changed people slowly. That was the danger of it. The city wore you down molecule by molecule until survival itself became your entire personality. And Benny knew it. He knew exactly how close he lived to that edge every day.
“You wanna know what I think?”
Her boyfriend hummed.
“I think it’s human. Honestly.”
Benny’s expression wavered. Jane felt it too, the hidden grief that he had learned to hide.
“I think,” she answered softly. “When people lose their entire lives, their brains grab onto whatever survives.”
“A song. A jacket. A stupid mug. Doesn’t matter.” Her fingers threaded lightly in his hair, then down to caress his neck, his skin. She leaned into his chest. “It becomes proof that you were somebody before all this happened.”
He hooked his head against her shoulder. Then, more quietly, he said, “If I get any say in it, I’ll probably die wearing this thing too.”
Jane immediately pulled back. “Don’t fucking joke like that.”
Benny shrugged. “I’m not.”
“Well, don’t say it either.”
For a moment, he met her gaze, then he looked away. “I’m sorry, Jane.” He murmured. “I don’t mean to make you sad.”
For a moment, Jane hated Roanapur with startling intensity. Hated how casually everyone here spoke about death. As probability. As inevitability. She moved without thinking too hard about it, and pulled his body tightly into hers. “I’m sorry I started all of it, too.”
“It’s fine.”
“Shut up, it’s fucking not.”
The chair creaked under their combined weight. “Anyway, I feel a bit better now honestly.” Benny pulled back, and looked at her face again. “Feels like a weight’s gone from my shoulders. Huh, I wasn’t aware I was that hung up on it.”
Jane leaned forward to kiss his lips tenderly. When she pulled away, she studied his face. “I’m glad. That you trusted me enough to share about it. It clearly means a lot to you.” It was endearing.
Benny’s smile grew. “Let's just enjoy feeling better for a while.”
Jane felt his hardness grow against her thigh. Her hand snaked downwards between them, inside his boxers and she gripped on it, thumb brushing against the head. The friction of her skin against his cock dragged low, shaky groan from Benny, his blonde head dropping to rest on her shoulder.
The air around them was heavy with the scent of rain and the raw, emotional vulnerability of the confession he had just shared.
“Come to bed, Benny,” Jane murmured seductively.
Benny pulled back just enough to look into her eyes before he leaned in to capture her lips in a slow, deep kiss. He slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back and lifted her up. He didn't stop kissing her as he carried her to the bed, his lips moving from her mouth to the curve of her neck, then lower, grazing the tops of her heavy breasts and leaving a trail of heat.
He laid her gently on the mattress. Benny stepped back for a moment, his hands gripping the waistband of his boxers. With one fluid motion, he pulled them down and kicked them away.
Benny’s long shaft was all pulsing veins and heat, ending in a blunt, pinkish tip that was already glistening with pre-cum.
Jane gazed up at him, her breath hitching. She arched her back slightly and spread her legs, her pubic area already wet and swollen with arousal. Instead of entering her immediately, Benny sank to his knees between her thighs. He’s familiar with how she likes it.
He leaned forward, his breath hot against her before his tongue made first contact. He started slowly, licking the outer edges of her pussy, tasting the salt and sweetness of her arousal. Jane gasped, her fingers digging into the sheets as he buried his face in her hair, his tongue moving around her clit, before sucking it into his mouth, swirling and flicking until Jane was sobbing and bucking her hips wildly.
“B-Benny! Please-”
The buildup was slow but steady. Jane felt herself getting tighter and tighter that exploded into a crashing orgasm. She cried out his name as she came, exploded into a wet, trembling mess.
But before she could even catch her breath, Benny rose from between her thighs. The head of his cock rubbed against her soaking wet entrance and her eyes widened. He guided himself in slowly, a long, sliding stretch that filled her completely. Jane let out a long, shaky moan and cried again, before her legs locked around his waist to pull him deeper.
Their tenderness shifted into an urgent rhythm. Benny began to thrust steadily, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the quiet room. He watched her face, his eyes locked on hers, seeing the sheer pleasure etched into her features as each stroke hit deeper than the last. His cock hitting the back of her womb, stretching her tight walls to their limit.
The friction grew and became unbearable, a white-hot tension coiling in Benny's gut and he groaned, his muscles tightening as he delivered several final thrusts, and burying himself as deep as physically possible.
“Fuck, fuck! Jane!”
With a guttural shout, he came, and pumped thick, hot cum deep inside her womb. She came with him, his name a broken stutter on her lips as she took all that he gave.
He collapsed against her afterwards, their hearts racing in unison.
Even as the first wave of his release faded away, Benny didn't pull out. He remained buried deep within her, the pulsing of his cock still vibrating against her cervix.
Jane, far from wanting the moment to end, tightened her grip. She wrapped her legs firmly around his waist, her ankles locking behind his back, pulling his heavy frame flush against her. She kissed his neck, his skin, hungry for more, craving the grounding weight of him and the feeling of being completely filled.
Benny let out a long, shuddering breath, his forehead resting against hers. “Give me a second.” He panted.
The air in the room was thick and humid, their skin slick with a mixture of sweat and spent passion. He began to move again, but the urgency had shifted into something heavier. He started to fuck her with slow, deliberate thrusts, sliding out until only the pink tip remained before plunging back in with a heavy, wet thud.
The friction was intoxicating. Every time he sank deep, Jane felt the stretch of her tight walls accommodating his length, the sensation sending ripples of pleasure through her entire body.
Their breaths mingled, creating a heavy and ragged rhythm.
Benny’s skin was pink, a light sheen of sweat making him glide smoothly against her softness. His hands began to roam, driven by a need to touch every inch of her. One hand slid upward, his fingers tangling in her soft hair, gently pulling her head back to expose the line of her throat. He kissed her jawline, his thin beard scratching against her skin, while his other hand gripped her hip with a firm strength. He dug his fingers into the curve of her ass, anchoring her to the mattress as he drove himself deeper.
Jane let out a deep, guttural moan, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder. “Oh, Benny…” She could taste the salt of his skin and a faint, lingering scent of the rain from outside, but all she focused on was the way he was fucking her.
With every slow, deep penetration, she felt the emotional weight of his earlier confession melting into the physical act.
It wasn't just sex. It was a conversation, a silent promise of support.
She squeezed him tighter, her breasts flattening against his chest. Her heart was hammering against his ribs. The rhythm began to build again. His thrusts became more purposeful, his hips snapping forward with a renewed hunger. His shaft rubbed against her G-spot with every motion.
Jane’s moans turned into breathless whimpers, her head tossing from side to side. The feeling of him was overwhelming-thick, hot, and unrelenting. She could feel the internal pressure building once more, the friction of his skin against her wetness creating a spark that threatened to ignite.
Benny’s grip on her hips tightened, his knuckles white, as he quickened his pace, and his movements grew sloppy as they both grew toward the edge of another shattering orgasm.
Outside, Roanapur continued drowning beneath rain and neon and violence. Somewhere in the city, people were killing each other over money or territory or pride.
But inside the apartment, Benny and Jane tangled close together.