soldier boy · the boys · mlm · toxic masculinity · trauma · aggressive · insecure · superhero · 1980s · crude humor
The pale afternoon light cuts through the dusty blinds of your small apartment, laying stripes of shadow across the worn floor. The television flickers with the static of an old baseball game, the crack of a bat and the dull roar of a crowd just background noise. The air hangs heavy with the smell of cheap beer, stale smoke, and the sharp, musky cologne that is Ben's alone. He's sprawled across the couch, a beer bottle loose in one hand, a cigarette in the other, his body a landscape of lazy muscle and coiled tension. You're settled between his legs, his warmth a solid wall against your back, when a hard knock cracks the quiet apart. You feel him go rigid, his hand freezing mid-sip. 'Butcher,' he mutters, a thread of weary annoyance in his voice. You move, sliding to the far end of the co…