Locked up with the Badboy.

I take a seat on the floor in front of him, "What?"

He combs a hand through his dark hair and sighs, "This is a maximum security prison, the people here have killed babies, shot up schools , killed multiple partners and run crime rings and you, are saying that I'm mean? "


14. Seen it all.







Driving is an awkward thing with both of us still inside the Mt Simpson outfit. I’m sitting on Ben’s lap as he drives an extremely powerful motorcar. I hear his each breath and when we hit a bump I bounce slightly on his knees. While I’m pretty sure we could nail a Maserati commercial I know that I’m also a massive distraction to the driver.

 “How did you even think of using Mt Simpson as a disguise?“ I ask.

“I dunno,” he wriggles slightly underneath me, “But Clara you feel so hot right now.”

I’m blushing, but he can’t tell, so I say; “Too bad you can’t reach me right?” then give his knee a little poke.

“Damn,” he says, increasing our speed and trying to get back at me with one of his Guard Simpson arms. It doesn’t work, and prison escapee that I am, I become an even bigger distraction.

I run my fingernail lightly down either side of his chest. Making him gasp and then try to reach again, I lightly caress his shoulders and then place one dainty kiss on his chin.

“You tease.” He moans, frustrated as I run my hands down his front bouncing each one on his armour plated abdomen. I forget we’re driving a ultra powerful sports-car until Ben pulls off the road, into a field of grass and rips off the latex mask.

“What are you doing Ben?” I say, “We’re running away darn it.”

“Not until I sort you out,” he says, wildly removing the pants, our uniform, and all the sheets stuffed in between. The moment our shoes disappear below the passengers seats he elegantly slide the passenger’s chair back with me beneath him and two legs either side of me.

The curve of the chair makes my chest seem larger then usual and he stares at me a moment, almost taking stock. “You’re beautiful.” He whispers eventually then with a passion that I’ve never experienced he brings his lips onto mine.

His lips are tingling and electric, popping like blue soda. This time we nail it and our lips stick together as our hands make themselves busy touching and testing. He sucks the air out of me until my head begins to spin, when we finally release each other we’re both trying to suck in air and our eyes are wide open like teenagers.

“Why are you so hot?” he moans. There’s a switchblade in the front of the car, I grab it and slip it under his collar. With one hand on his chest I feel a little of his breath disappear. Running the switchblade down his shirt I tearing it in two. Revelling just a little in the way his eyes are wide open. Revelling a lot in how hot he is without a shirt on.

I place a kiss on his collarbone, it’s cold skin that heats up under my touch, as Ben’s head lolls backwards I place another under his chin.

Ben fights me for the switchblade, when he’s got it he tears first my shirt and  shorts in half. Exposed to the hot air our skin begins to shimmer slightly, Ben presses his body to mine, and as he drops the knife I use it to ensure that his shorts fall to two savage cuts.

In only our underclothes our bodies press together, desperate for eachothers warmth. I kiss his lips again, leaving my eyes closed and putting my whole me into the feelings. He slips his hands behind my back and slowly runs his finger around me.

I pull him closer, so his whole body touches mine, and we kiss again, hot passionate. Suddenly Ben pulls away.

Confused I look at him, he’s staring out the window, not even paying attention. “Shit, you hear that?” He says, a thousand ghosts crossing his face.

“What?” but I begin to hear it, a little while off there’s a police siren, they’re already after us.

Giving me one lasting kiss Ben places his hands around my hips and slides me into the passengers seat, pulling his forward. With scary acceleration we leave the field and accelerate along the road. Red and blue flash in the distance.

Our road burns away below us, raw acceleration leaving the cop car in the dust. Turning right onto a state highway that’s mostly empty Ben touches pedal to the metal and we shoot away, two prisoners escaping in their underwear.


Our second stop is a surfy style clothes shop, where we tell a story about having our entire wardrobes robbed and I buy jeans, converses, shorts and tees. Ben comes out of his cubicle looking better then the male models in the photographs.

As we fly across the tarmac I put my legs on the dashboard, after all the time I’ve spent in prison it’s time to soak up some sun. Everything seems impossibly colourful and the land infinite. “Hey Ben?” I ask, prodding him with my foot, “Where are we actually going?”

As we swerve past a lilac motorhome, then cruise along the straight in front of it Ben shrugs, “I don’t know yet, as long as we keep away from the coppers, and find me some beef jerky, we’ll go wherever the road takes us until you or I make a better plan.”

“Beef Jerky huh? That’s what you were craving?”

He flicks me a glance, “One of them.”


We cruise until the fuel needle stops moving, then pull into a seven up. “Want anything?” Ben asks as he pumps gas into the Maserati. He’s still in his boxers, in the heat. We don’t have any other clothes but he looks like he hardly cares.

“How about the whole store?” I ask, joking and for once hoping that he’ll at least put some pants on.

 Nonchalant Ben throws me his cash-stuffed wallet. “Help yourself.” Folding it open, I see rolls of hundred dollar bills, wrapped in rubber bands to create space for more hundred dollar bills. Almost not believing myself I take out a roll that must be at least ten grand and push it into the lining of my prison-boxers.

“Ben, I’m in my underwear.” I say, “I’m not going into that store.”

He frowns, “Fuel is pretty expensive here.”



“I said I can’t go in there, I’m in my underwear.”

He sighs, hangs up the nozzle and lifts up hi sunglasses, “Clara, if you’re going to hang with me you need to relax a little okay?” He shakes his head, “We just stole someone’s identity, broke out of a maximum security prison and hijacked a car, how on earth are you scared of walking into a gas station a little underdressed.”

I bite my lip, feeling wretchedly convinced that Ben is right, “There’s a young guy manning the register,” I say pointing, “He might look at my Boobs.”

He laughs, “How do you know he’s not looking at mine.”

We both crack up, and turn to look at the attendant. He looks away and purple spreads across his cheeks.

“Come-on,” Ben says, “I’ll come with you.”

He takes my hand, and together we walk through the sliding doors and into a blissfully cool store. “Hey dude,” Ben calls to the kid behind the register, “You have any Beef Jerky?”

The kid points across the store, his face going red again, “It’s bottom row on your left… and this store has a clothing policy.” He stammers.

“Oh,” Ben says with a smile as he grabs the largest bag of jerky in the store, “Should we take the offending items off then?”

With our right to buy secured I buy a whole cake, a tub of ice-cream, two bars of chocolate and two Orange juices while Ben adds three newspapers, a few maps, iced tea, matches, and a bag of skittles to his purchases. The kid rings it up for us, trying his hardest to look anywhere but my chest area and when he’s finished Ben tips him a hundred dollar bill for being such a gentleman.

We get into the car, pile most of our food into the backseat and pull out from the gas station. I open the passionfruit ice-cream like I’m pregnant and craving, Ben munches on his beef jerky contentedly. 


As we pass the country at top speed images implant themselves on my retina. Rusted iron sheds against shiny new houses. Burnt red rocks amid dried grass. Signs humourless signs remind us of the fire ban and little towns with old, rundown restaurants and new cars invite us to stay the night.

We stay in Louis at a medium priced hotel that offers premium service and forgets to give us bath towels. Quietly, while Ben is out buying dinner and breakfast I throw up in the toilet, having eaten too much sugary food too fast. Feeling better and running hands down my slimmed stomach I throw the rest of my sweetened orange juice into a bin, While prison was a blow for my sense of freedom it was good for my figure.

After half an episode of keeping up with the Kardashians I turn off the T.V and pace. Ben arrives with Butter Chicken and a monstrous bag containing all types of bread. “What is that?” I ask.

“Food,” he shrugs pulling out dinner; butter chicken that looks surprisingly similar to prison gruel “Just like at home,” I say with a smile.

Sam shakes his head sadly, “I was hyping for my first proper meal.” “The moment we find a decent supermarket I’m going to cook us a proper escape-celebration meal.”

The poor quality cooking helps set my stomach at ease, enough so that as both of us lie on the fold out couch I don’t feel like numbing my brain with T.V, instead we just talk.

“Ever been to Arizona?” Ben asks.

“Never,” Apart from a few family vacations I’ve hardly been out of my corner of the U.S. “You?”

He relaxes and puts his hands behind his head, “A couple of times.”

“How many of them were on drug runs?”

“Funny…” Giving a weird blink, he looks at me, “One. I actually quite enjoy travelling.”

“How far have you gone?”

“Either Tokyo or the Himalayas.” He gets up and pours himself some milk.

I try to imagine him on the face of a mountain, or with some Buddhist monks. Strangely it seems to fit with Ben’s character, he’s not only rugged and handsome he’s also the sort who’s seen a lot in a small amount of time. I think there’s a word for those sort of people, maybe it’s charismatic.

“And you?” He asks with the  grin that says; I see you totally checking me out.

“Arizona.” I say with slightly red cheeks.

He spits out his milk literally into the sink and wiping his mouth bursts out into laughter, as it dies down he says, “Seriously how far have you gone?”

“Well, I went about two hundred meters into Canada on a school trip.”



He sticks out his tongue, “That blows, Travel changes you maaaan.” He tries to sit back on the couch but I stick my feet against his chest to stop him, “Thanks for your hippy wisdom,” I say, “But until I landed in prison I was a poor, struggling history student. I didn’t have the money or time to travel.”

“Well tomorrow…” He replies, running his hands down my leg then picking me up in one swift motion. Then sitting down with me cradled in his tight muscled arms “Tomorrow I’m taking you to visit the Grand Canyon baby.”

I laugh, and run my hand over the stubble on one of his cheeks, “I’ve seen a picture, it looked pretty big.”

My tone being the absolutely bored kind sets him off, “Big!, Big!” He runs his hand over my stomach lightly, causing me to squirm and wriggle, “I’m ticklish,” I protest, “Leave me alone.” But his fingers gently brush the soles of my feet as he yells like someone in the Bronx, “Girl you ain’t never seen nothing so big. If you think the Big Mac was big then you don’t know big. If you thought the Big Apple was big then you don’t know big.” He pauses for a moment and taps his chin, “In fact I’d say it was the second biggest object in the world, you can see it from space it’s so big.”

I hold his arms still, “And what’s the biggest object dare I ask?”

“Well babe, it’s funny you should say that…” He says, running a hand down my side that makes me shiver, “Because you’d be sitting right on it if my pants weren’t...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence because I don’t let him. Clamping one hand over his mouth and using the other to pillow-bash him. I let out a little scream of indignation. “What ever you… you”

Jumping out from under me, and attempting to hide behind the couch, he replies “How do you know if you haven’t checked it out.” His flashy smile vanishes as my pillow finds his head. He tries to run, but I throw a bagel at him. “What the he-“ He begins to say a croissant flies past his nose.

I try to thrust a French stick, but Ben snatches and I have to retrieve another from the immense shopping bag. As he makes his advance I flop onto the bench behind me and almost get crumbed. Standing up rather un-majestically I hold the bread sword in one hand and bagels in the other. “You will always remember this as the day you almost caught captain Jack Sparrow.”

Ben looks at the Donuts and French sticks in his hands confused, “Why the F*** did I buy so much bread?”

I laugh and point my French stick under his cute chin, “Cravings me harty.” 


A/N: Thanks for reading, this story has gone far beyond what I imagined it would when Ben and Clara first met in their cell. Mostly because of the confidence other people have shown it.

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