Best Friends With Benefits

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this fiction. They're the property of the CW and One Tree Hill and whomever else. I make no money from the writing of this story.


Brooke shivered as the brisk autumn air caused goose bumps to raise on her exposed flesh. She was dressed in trendy jeans and a deep blue sweater that complemented her skin tone, a brightly colored scarf pulling off the preppy cheerleader look. She glanced up at the quarter moon in the black sky, grayish clouds making their ponderous journey across the night sky. She couldn't see many stars from here, but the few she did see were twinkling like little troopers.

She stomped up the steps to the house before her, ignoring protocol and simply barging in -- the weight of her overnight bag digging into one shoulder and the diagonal hip. She shrugged it off at the door, and snuck stealthily up the stairs, being sure to miss the step with the creaky board. A thin strip of light illuminated the hallway, showing a peek of the room. Brooke pressed her face against the crack, glancing about hurriedly -- good. No Peyton. Using only a few fingers, she pressed the door open, and then slipped in, holding her breath the whole time. Figures she'd be in her stupid closet, Brooke thought to herself, creeping towards it.

Putting on her meanest scary face, Brooke took a few agile steps and came up almost directly behind the blonde, filling her lungs with air, and she was just about to -- "AHH!" She jerked away from Peyton, who spun around and let out a loud whoop at Brooke. The cheerleader's face turned red with a mixture of horror and amusement as Peyton dissolved in gut-wracking laughter.

"Peyton! That was SO not cool!" Brooke was indignant.

"Oh, yes, yes it was, Brooke," Peyton hiccoughed, her face split into a wide grin.

"Hmph," Brooke replied, working up to a full on pout. It had been a custom for the best friends to spend Halloween together, usually at Peyton's house, staying up all night to do movies and make-overs. Once, when they were nine, Brooke had succeeded in scaring Peyton nearly to death -- and had been trying to ever since. She hadn't ever gotten the blonde, but it didn't stop her from trying.

"It was a good try, okay?" Peyton's smile was conciliatory. She knew Brooke's moods as well as she knew her record collection, and tonight Brooke had been trying extra hard to scare Peyton. Brooke didn't like to fail at anything, and usually Peyton let her get her way -- but she couldn't pass up a chance to feed Brooke a bit of her own medicine. "Maybe you should try to hatchet me in the shower. That one almost got me last year."

"Lucky for you, witty girl, that I am just too kind-hearted to really do anything scary," Brooke said primly. "Because if I really wanted to, I could, you know."

"Oh, I know." Peyton replied knowingly.
"This isn't over, blondie," Brooke's sugar sweet tone was gone. She narrowed her eyes at Peyton's smile, slipping out a hand to slap her friend on the arm. "I will scare you before the night is over."

Peyton just rolled her eyes, unfolding lithely from the computer chair. "All right, mastermind, what are your plans for this evening?" She said as she strolled out of the closet, glancing around at her own bedroom, which was almost obsessively free of clutter -- though it was not spartan by any means. Strange and garish artwork decorated the walls, and this year her bedroom decor leaned more towards reds and blacks, with coordinating curtains and bedspread. She had penciled a sketch of herself and her parents, before her mother died. It was still the focal point of the room, though it usually made Peyton depressed to think about it.

"Well, Bevin reccommended The Rocky Horror Picture Show as one of our movies, and I brought over my make-up bag and hair rollers. I think we should try to see what it would look like if we swapped styles," Brooke said, following Peyton and lifting a hand to finger her wildly curly hair. "You know, the straight and sleek look on you and the.. well, messy bedhead on me," Her tone fell a little towards the end, shoulder giving a slightly helpless shrug.

"Hey! People like my hair," Peyton replied, aggrieved.

"Sure.. you remind them of Shirley Temple."

"Brooke! Do not!"

"Nevermind, P. Sawyer," Brooke said, dodging Peyton's indignant swipes. "When is your dad going to be home?"

"He won't be in until next weekend." Peyton's eyebrows rose. "Why?"

"Oh.. I just thought that this would be better without parental supervision." It was Brooke's turn to grin.

"Brooke, what did you do?" Peyton's curiousity was piqued.

"Let's just say, we're going to do this thing in style."

"How did you even get that, B. Davis?" Peyton asked incredulously, eyeing the sluggish liquid inside the glass bottle. It was alcohol, definitely, whiskey, maybe, and neither of the pair of them had ever had any experience with hard liquor. "I mean, it's not like they hand out whiskey bottles as a trick-or-treat nowdays," Peyton glanced up at Brooke, who was busily changing into her pajamas. "Do they?"

"No, Peyton," Brooke said matter-of-factly, pulling up the cotton boxers over her long, tanned legs. "I convinced my dad to put me on his checking account, and they sent me my own debit card.. after that, it was easy. A few smiles and winks at the clerk, and they were more than willing to sell it to me without an ID." Brooke's tone was mischevious, giving Peyton a cheeky smile.

"Anyway, P. Sawyer, you want to try it, don't you? I mean it's better if we get drunk for the first time with each other, and not around a bunch of horny boys," Brooke rolled her eyes, though she wasn't entirely sure that it wouldn't be fun.

"Sure, Brooke, I want to try it," Peyton said, though she didn't sound entirely convinced. At fourteen, the pair of them were freshman at Tree Hill High, and Brooke was hellbent and determined to climb the social ladder to total high school rulership. Peyton, as her best friend and closest confidant, was assured a ride to to the top as Brooke's willing sidekick. They both knew that meant a full commitment to partying, drinking, and possibly lots of sex. They were still new to the world of the elite, though their pretty faces and Brooke's effable nature were making it easier for them than for some.

"Well.. pop it open," Brooke suggested.

"Hey, not so fast," Peyton objected, shoving the bottle back at Brooke. "We still need.. movies, popcorn, the ultimate snackage, you know?" Peyton left the room and headed for the kitchen, leaving Brooke to set up in the living room.

"This doesn't look like a scary movie," Brooke told Peyton, examining the cover to the Rocky Horror Picture Show DVD.

"You did take the suggestion from Bevin, Brooke," Peyton called back to her, loaded with armfuls of mostly indigestible food, and two plastic cups.

Once they were settled with blankets and pillows, bundled up on the couch with the starting credits rolling on the screen, Peyton glanced nervously at Brooke, who tried to look casual as she opened the glass bottle and filled the cups. "Bottoms up, P. Sawyer," Brooke said, her voice a little strained. Peyton shrugged and sniffed, then finally took a swig. Her face made a grimace as the hot liquid sloshed around in her mouth and finally scorched its way down her throat. "It burns," was all she could say.


"This movie is weird, Brooke," Peyton's voice was only slightly slurred, though enough time had passed for the liquor to make her feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Peyton was immediately noticing the difference in Brooke, who was decidedly more amusing while drunk. She kept finding things very funny -- which would normally annoy Peyton, but instead made her feel pretty affectionate towards Brooke.

Brooke sputtered through her giggles. "I.. I know. Bevin is a total idiot." Brooke's face hurt from smiling, but her head was swimming and it felt nice, though the tickling sensation made her laugh. Pretty much everything made her laugh.

"It's not scary so much as creepy." Peyton's brows shot up at something that happened on the screen. She didn't even flinch when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it! I LOVE trick-or-treaters!" Brooke said enthusiastically, popping up from the couch and the tangle of blankets and pillows piled around them. She narrowly avoided colliding with the wall as she skidded into the entry way, hands groping for the bucket of candy Peyton had left on a table. She opened the door to a trio of youngsters, and happily drowned them in candy over their chorus of "trick-or-treat!"

She suddenly remembered, through her alcoholic haze, that she was supposed to be trying to scare Peyton. A smile crept over her features as she closed the door quietly, and tip-toed around the corner, glancing surreptitiously at the blonde who was splayed out on the couch, taking up all the room (as usual), having kicked the blankets onto the floor. She couldn't quite repress a giggle as she stalked into the living room, hugging the walls and freezing every time the movie illuminated the darker corners. She sped up for the last few feet of her journey, sock-clad feet thudding on the dull wooden floor, letting out a strangled warrior yell as she leapt over the arm of the sofa and landed squarely on Peyton.

"Ah-HAH! I got you, P. Sawyer! I got you!!" Brooke shouted gleefully, cackling.

"Holy CRAP, Brooke! My spleen!" Peyton panted, struggling madly to escape Brooke's weight. "Get off me, elephant woman!"

"Hey! I'll show you elephant woman!" Brooke replied, digging her fingers furiously into Peyton's ribs and stomach. It got the desired reaction -- Peyton's total surrender of any attempt to fight back, simply going limp and laughing uncontrollably. Brooke's face hurt from smiling so much, and she couldn't remember being this happy in a long time. Suddenly, she leaned down and grabbed Peyton's hands, pinning them between their bodies as she pressed her lips against the blonde's.

For a moment, Peyton was stunned, freezing as the reality of the situation sunk in. Then -- she rubbed her lips into Brooke's, deepening the kiss by a degree, feeling her head swim with a dizziness she was sure wasn't entirely alcohol. When Brooke pulled away both of them were flushed, and Peyton's breath was coming in short, shallow pants.

"What.. what was that, Brooke?" She asked quietly, her eyes large and a little moist. Brooke shrugged, fixing one of her patented nonchalant smiles in place. "That's been coming for a long time, blondie," She said, her hoarse voice almost a purr. "At least now the mystery's over." She shifted, as if to remove herself from atop Peyton, when she was suddenly brought to a halt -- Peyton lifting half off the couch, bringing her mouth crashing down on Brooke's in a bruising, almost painful kiss. The other girl responded, a nearly inaudible moan sounding deep in her throat, pink lips parting when Peyton's tongue probed against them. Peyton's fingers massaged the back of Brooke's neck and her hands caressed Peyton's cheek, the two of them nearly entirely motionless save for the dancing tongues, each exploring and tasting, at once bold and tentative in turn. They finally pulled away, and when Brooke opened her eyes, Peyton's lips were turned up in a slight smile. "That's been coming for a long time." Peyton's voice was full of laughter. "Where did you learn to kiss, anyway?"

Brooke slid the rest of the way off her best friend, still shocked by the intensity of the kiss they had just shared. Her heart was still beating a staccato in her chest, and most of her humorous buzz was gone. Entirely different feelings were swarming over her, a hot tightness in her belly, warmth searing her skin everywhere Peyton's hands had touched. She nearly choked on her words, having drawn a complete blank at Peyton's question. Where had she learned to kiss? Where had Peyton learned to kiss!

"Brooke? Are you okay?" Peyton's voice wavered, concern and shame coloring it. Brooke turned her head slowly, and looked at Peyton intensely, almost as to really see her for the first time. She was young and still developing, though the few curves she had were appropriately appealing, especially in a white tanktop and colorless boxer shorts. Her hair was shoulder-length and riotously curly, a shade of blonde that could easily be natural or dyed, her face angled and fairy-like but with large, soulful green eyes. Right now Brooke could see that Peyton was uneasy -- confused as to why Brooke hadn't shaken off the kiss with the same ease she was known for.

"Yeah, Peyton, I'm okay." Brooke shook her head. She must be tired, or else drunk. She couldn't believe that that clutching in her belly was still there, couldn't believe that her lips still felt swollen and tender. She licked them just to make sure. She couldn't believe that the few fumbling, sweaty kisses with boys like Tom Rhodes and Evan Lancaster had failed to arouse much more than a desire to brush her teeth, and that this one encounter with Peyton made her feel.. well, more than pretty much anything could.

"Let's just watch the movie," Peyton said, feeling lame. A definite blush was coloring her cheeks, and she curled up beneath a blanket, wishing she could simply melt into the couch. She kept her eyes planted firmly on the television screen, but barely absorbed what was going on (it was all pretty much garish colors and strange music, anyway) while she relived the kiss over and over again in her mind. She felt like a complete idiot. Worse than Bevin ever could be. Brooke had just been playing around -- and Peyton thought it would be funny to turn the tables a bit. She had to admit that she had been a little frightened by Brooke's wild, Xena-style scream-and-leap out of the darkness, and equally stunned by the impromptu kiss. Peyton had always figured turnabout was fair play, and had upped the kiss a notch in order to throw Brooke out of orbit. She had never imagined that she would feel like -- that it could be so -- Peyton had never kissed anybody, not like that. She would rather die than tell Brooke that, though.

She couldn't deny that Brooke had been right, at least about the tension between them. Peyton had always admired how sleek and lanky Brooke was, how casually stunning she could be, and even fresh out of bed before a shower or make up could make Peyton look like some homeless beggar. Beyond that, Peyton couldn't resist Brooke's dimpled smiles or her genuinely giddy laugh, both of which had the ability to raise Peyton's spirits no matter what kind of slump she was in. Brooke was the only person other than her dad that knew the excrutiating details about her mother's death, and through the confusion and darkness that Peyton sometimes battled, Brooke was always there, helping her along. Peyton knew that there was nobody else in this world like Brooke Davis, and felt priveleged to be her friend.

She jerked violently at the brush of fingertips on her thigh, turning her head sharply to look at Brooke, who was avidly watching the movie on the television. She glanced down at the blankets, which had somehow come to include Brooke beneath them, and then back at the screen, determined to ignore it. After Peyton settled down, Brooke's fingers touched gently, causing goose bumps to prickle along her skin. The muscles in her thigh quivered beneath the feathery explorations, and Peyton had to swallow hard. She struggled to control her breathing, biting her bottom lip when Brooke shifted casually closer to her, allowing her hand better access.

Peyton's face was hot and her head was light, she was sure from deprivation of air, given she was trying not to suffocate. Her breath was coming in uneven gasps, though she tried to hide it as best as she could. Every few moments she would glance at Brooke, who seemed totally unfazed, but for the slight line of concentration between her eyebrows. Her stomach was knotted, the feeling somewhere between euphoria and nausea, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. She couldn't help but squirm a little when the hand, that mysterious, naughty hand began to dip beneath the hem of her shorts, running a smooth pad along the sensitive skin there, feeling the warmth that was radiating from every pore. Peyton gave a little squeak, muffled and strangled though it was, when a trio of fingers began to creep along her inner thigh.

"Brooke.." Her breath released in a whoosh, the word a plea. What exactly Peyton wanted, even she didn't know -- she was confused and aroused all at once, and the fact that her best friend was seemingly engrossed in the movie only made things worse.

"Hm?" Brooke asked innocently, turning to face Peyton. Despite the fact that she could feel Brooke's body heat beside her, no other part of her body was touching except for her hand, now resting intimately on her thigh.

"I.. uh.." Peyton couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. All she could do was feel, and it felt like Brooke's hand was scorching into her leg, though it was resting lightly there. She knew that her stomach muscles were quivering, and she kept flexing her legs, as if the movement would bring some sort of release. She almost groaned when Brooke brushed her thumb against the flat of her stomach, in a gentle, rubbing motion.

"Yes, Peyton?" Brooke smiled, that dazzling, cheerful Brooke Davis smile and Peyton felt her heart flutter.

"Just.. nothing." Peyton shifted, turning back to the movie and trying hard not to feel the play of Brooke's fingers against her skin. She knew that the drawing sensation deep in the pit of her groin was Brooke's doing, though she couldn't begin to understand how. Her clit began to throb, and she knew her panties were soaked. It was a kind of slow torture, these few gentle caresses, these amazingly soft touches, and Peyton was slowly losing her mind.

When Brooke edged her finger along the inside of Peyton's thigh, poking beneath the shorts again, Peyton let out a strangled sob -- it might have been a moan, might have been a grunt -- and slammed her hand down on Brooke's wrist, pinning her there. Brooke jumped, startled, and turned to look at Peyton with wide eyes.

"What are you doing!" Peyton demanded, panting. Her eyes were glassy and pupils dialated, cheeks flushed a brilliant rose. "You're driving me crazy!"

Brooke smiled, her eyes lidded like a contented cat, and simply leaned in to press a soft kiss on Peyton's neck. That nearly undid her. She wasn't prepared for the tugging in her stomach or the prick of her nipples, wasn't ready for the warmth of Brooke's mouth on the curve of her neck or the play of her tongue there. Peyton thought she was going to pass out when Brooke sucked, small gentle suction that turned her body into a pulsing livewire. She gave absolutely no resistance when Brooke shifted, straddling her through the clothes, allowing some of their captured heat to escape from beneath the blanket. Brooke could feel Peyton's nipples, hard and aching, beneath her shirt, and briefly paused her minstrations to sneak her hands beneath the material.

"Brooke.." Peyton said again, managing to open her eyes enough to look at her best friend. She felt hazy and heavy, almost incapable of moving, but so liquid and alive. Brooke looked into Peyton's eyes, and smiled, that reassuring, delightful smile that always made Peyton return the favor.

"Do you like it?" She whispered, massaging her fingers along Peyton's stomach, dragging her nails carefully along the tight skin.

"Y-yes.." Peyton mumbled, and was swept back into the world of pure sensation, ignoring all the doubts and confusions that plagued her mind when Brooke lowered her mouth to suck on her ear. Meanwhile, Brooke's hands were snaking deftly along Peyton's torso, until she finally cupped Peyton's breasts. She took a moment to marvel at the texture, soft and pliant, complete with the heady rush of being able to stroke another girl's nipples. Peyton's breath hitched in her throat, and she licked her lips, biting back a moan as Brooke tweaked them. She glanced through blurry vision and saw Brooke grinning, looking entirely too pleased with herself. Peyton didn't care. She only knew that if Brooke stopped now, she would either snap or cry. She never wanted it to end -- but she wanted something, something. It was an urgent plea her body was making with her, hips rolling with every sharp little twinge of pleasure, clit throbbing insatiably beneath the layers of clothes. Brooke's thighs were warm and firm on top of hers, and her scent was intoxicating.

Brooke licked the shallow of Peyton's collarbone, smiling when the other girl moaned. She had never done anything like this before, either -- and she hadn't known that the heady rush of control could bring her a new kind of pleasure, hadn't known how aroused it made her just to arouse Peyton. Brooke had always liked control, had always enjoyed freedom and independence, but she had never known she contained the power to do this to anyone. She was playing it by ear, nibbling and sucking, and was rewarded by Peyton's vocal response. Her hands gradually drifted even lower, teasing the waistband of Peyton's sleep shorts, tickling the rigid knots of her hipbones on either side. She leaned back then, caressing the crotch of Peyton's panties, waiting for the other girl to open her eyes.

Peyton frowned when Brooke's mouth moved away from her neck, the air quickly cooling the spots where it had scorched. She shuddered when Brooke's gentle, skilled fingers crept over her underwear, both in anticipation and anxiety. She opened her eyes and met Brooke's penetrating stare, and all at once the realization of what they were doing hit home.

"Are you okay?" Once again Brooke spoke, and the sound of her husky, growly voice caused Peyton to quiver.

"Yeah," Peyton replied dumbly. Hard to think with Brooke stroking her like that..

"Do you.. are you.." Brooke couldn't help but smile when Peyton licked her bottom lip, obviously fighting to remain coherent. "I won't hurt you, Peyton," Brooke whispered softly, and leaned forward to give Peyton a gentle kiss.

"I know," Peyton murmured, and pressed her face into Brooke's neck, ragged, uneven breathing a testament to how ready she was.

"Maybe you should lie down for this," Brooke said slyly, and smiled as the two shifted almost seamlessly horizontal. Her hand was still beneath Peyton's shorts, brushing evenly over the top of Peyton's mound. She kissed Peyton then, and the blonde responded in kind, lips parting for Brooke's insistent tongue. She swallowed Peyton's gasp when her fingers slid beneath the hem of her panties, running through the crinkle of soft hair. Brooke lifted up to watch Peyton's face, lids closed tightly, eyebrows drawn together as if pondering something when she tentatively spread her lips, fingers swirling around the juices that had gathered there. One finger stroked along the crevice, and Brooke noted how Peyton arched into her, how her breathing alternated between shallow and strangled, finding the points of pleasure that caused the blonde to squirm and scream and finally beg.

"Please.. Brooke.. I need.." Peyton didn't exactly know. All she knew was that Brooke was tormenting her, with tantalizing touches that never found their mark, never made full contact except briefly, exquisitely, and she wanted, needed to be touched, needed the pressure and release. Her body was tense and tight, her legs thrashing wildly, tangling with Brooke's. Her other hand was playing along Peyton's neck, drawing lazy circles, her lips curved in a wicked smile.

"Tell me," Brooke purred, and felt a jolt of pleasure when Peyton's eyes flew open with shock and wonder when one precise finger touched her clit, applying pressure to that sensitive knob, though no movement. Peyton's hips wriggled madly, trying desperately to create friction, her thighs and butt clenching. "What do you need, Peyton?"

"I.. just.. Brooke!" Peyton's voice was hoarse, her fists gripping the blankets tightly. "Holy god," Peyton muttered when Brooke lowered her head, breathing shallowly along her neck, hovering just milimeters above the skin. It burned. She thought she felt just the barest brush of lips along the curve of her neck, and it caused her entire body to shudder. "Please, please," Peyton murmured mindlessly, that incessent pressure on her clit never relenting, never increasing, but remaining steady. It was more than Peyton thought she could handle -- and now Brooke was breathing so lightly, so softly on her shoulder, her ear, her lips.

"Say it," Brooke said, low and terse. "Say it, Peyton."

"I want you," Peyton tried, and couldn't keep the whimper out of her voice. "Please, Brooke, I want you."

"Not the right answer.." Peyton bucked when Brooke pinched one of her nipples, but still managed to keep her clit under that unforgiving finger. Suddenly Brooke leaned in and bit Peyton, sucking hard on the spot, and sent Peyton into convulsions of alternate agony and ecstasy.

"Fuck me, Brooke! Please! Do it!" Peyton was losing her sanity.

"There's my girl," Brooke growled, and smiling into the kiss, began to rub Peyton's clit ruthlessly. She felt the vibrations from Peyton's moans, and delighted in the writhing, bucking body of the girl beneath her. She made the seamless transition to thrusting in Peyton's hole, a single finger, sharp, quick thrusts that gave Peyton no choice but to match the pace. Brooke could sense Peyton tightening, drawing together and building up when she slipped in another finger, and then another. Brooke marveled at the texture, tight and rigid, the virgin walls clenching and drawing her digits in with every stroke.

"Oh my god, Brooke," Peyton breathed, her vision blurring and finally darkening when she crested, her entire body arcing into the darker girl's, fingers digging holes into the comforter, a strangled moan escaping her lips. She felt her body writhe and spasm, as her entire insides quaked and gushed and finally, finally stopped. Peyton went limp, her breathing ragged, face turned into the sofa.

Brooke slowly, slowly lowered herself back onto Peyton, gaze assessing her best friend's face. It was completely relaxed, totally free of any sort of tension or sadness, a thing that was rare for the girl. Brooke smiled. She decided that if sex did this for a person, it was definitely worth her time. She shifted and sunk down beside Peyton, pulling the blankets up around them, and putting her arms over Peyton's side.

After a while, Peyton stirred, and glanced up at Brooke's face. Her eyes were closed, though Peyton knew she wasn't sleeping.

"Brooke?"

"Hm?" She sounded a little sleepy.

"What was that?" Peyton asked for a second time that night.

Brooke slowly opened her eyes, and didn't immediately meet Peyton's searching gaze. "I don't really know."

"I.. I think that was sex, Brooke." Peyton reflexively tightened her hold on her best friend's waist. "Wasn't it?"

"Probably." Brooke's tone was neutral.

"Well.. then.. I'm glad my first time was with you." Peyton said, her eyes lowered.

Brooke smiled, and brushed a kiss atop Peyton's forehead. "Me, too."