Marked by Him (Rough Love Book 4)
Author: Greene, Leighton; Greene, L J
Date: 2019-08-28

Marked by Him

Rough Love Part 4

Leighton Greene

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

© 2019 L J Greene. All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author.

All characters in this book are eighteen or older.

Contents

Marked by Him

Next

Also by the Author

Marked by Him

Rough Love Part 4

“I’m really sorry,” Xander says, cringing yet again.

“I know,” Ben sighs. “I know.”

They’re having breakfast after having slept in, and after Ben’s heard the worst news Xander could have given him.

Xander is leaving.

Xander is leaving. Ben’s been turning it over in his mind ever since his boyfriend spat it out this morning.

He got the news the moment he opened his eyes and smiled into Xander’s face.

“Baby, I have to move to New York.”

Talk about a wake up call, Ben thinks now as he eats his oatmeal, trying to tamp down on the bitterness. It’s not Xander’s fault, after all.

It’s his work. His fucking work. But Xander wouldn’t be Xander without his work.

Production for season 2 of The Hunter, in which Xander will have his first major role, is moving from LA to New York. Producers want that gritty realness of the Big Apple that, apparently, a backlot at Warner’s just isn’t giving them. Since it’s a hit show with a limited season run and a massive budget, they’re getting exactly what they want.

They also want Xander, so Xander will have to move.

“I’m really sorry,” Xander says softly.

“You keep saying that,” Ben tells him. “I know you are. It’s just…fuck the universe, you know?” He sighs.

“I won’t have to leave for a few months still,” Xander says forlornly.

Ben reaches across the table and takes Xander’s hand. “Listen, we’re in a relationship, so I assume you’re gonna support whatever I need to do for my career. Right?”

“Of course,” Xander says.

Ben gives a smile that he hopes looks braver then it feels, and squeezes Xander’s fingers. “Of course. And I’ll support you in yours. So if you have to move to fucking New York for a while, I mean, I’m not happy about it, but I’ll support you.”

It’s the right thing to say. It’s the only thing to say. But it doesn’t stop Ben from feeling shitty about it all week. Just when he’s beginning to find out who he really is, just when he feels like he’s getting in touch with something deep and mysterious inside himself, Xander has to leave.

It feels, despite Ben’s best efforts to deny it to himself, like abandonment.

Still, like Xander says, the move is months away, so Ben decides he’s going to pretend it’s not really happening. In fact, he’s starting to get romantic, and it’s both embarrassing to him personally and not working out very well.

He has an urge to buy a houseplant for Xander’s place to make it look nice, and okay, maybe to send an unconscious encouragement to stay in his place, but the cat eats it and starts ralphing up green everywhere. Xander has to take Henry to the vet while Ben tries unsuccessfully to clean chlorophyll cat-sick out of the carpet. Henry is fine, but Ben sits up with him all night, just in case. Xander tells him it wasn’t his fault, but Ben feels guilty for days. He pays for carpet cleaners, even though Xander tells him to forget about it.

Ben buys Noah the dog a bone-printed bandana, just to see Xander smile when Noah trots in with it tied around his neck at a jaunty angle, but Ben has to borrow it back later in the week to cover a bruised wrist for a work shift, and it falls off in the dumpster when Ben takes the trash out. But at least that incident doesn’t end in a vet trip.

And Ben has started watching cooking shows to get ideas. For what, he’s not sure, but still he watches, and then feels like an idiot when he can’t make his own fucking pasta. Xander, of course, can and does, and Ben feels un-needed and faintly annoyed.

Ben demands a list of all the things he’s allegedly quoted while in subspace, and double checking them makes him even more appalled at his sudden sappy streak. Most of the works he hasn’t even thought about consciously for years. And then there’s the stuff he’s written himself. It’s galling to think that something so personal is coming out without him even consciously realizing it. Xander is full of praise, but Ben’s not sure he’s ready to share his poetry yet. It still feels half-formed. Embryonic.

And as for quoting Seneca, and the fact that Xander has irritatingly taken to calling himself ‘the Icy Bear’ – in third fucking person – Ben is mortified. Mostly because it’s true: he finds Xander’s presence a constant and comforting navigational marker, just like the constellation Ursa Major, Seneca’s icy bear. When he feels worried or lost or insecure, he thinks, At least I have Xander. But that instant warm, safe feeling he gets from it isn’t something he’s sure wants Xander to know about.

It’s also a potential issue because Xander talks a lot about New York and the things he might be able to do there. Like theatre, his first love, and even stage musicals. Things that might take him away from LA for a long time…maybe forever, in Ben’s worst imaginings. Xander never notices how Ben falls silent when he talks about New York, but Ben is glad, because he doesn’t want Xander to notice.

He wants to be supportive, he really does.

“Can you bring the Icy Bear some coffee on the way back?” Xander asks him one time on the phone. Ben has been making coffees all day, and he’s not really in the mood.

“You’re less cute than you think,” he snaps.

“Aw, did someone have a bad day?”

“You know that Ursa Major vacillates, right?” Ben retorts. He’s looked it up on Wikipedia.

“I prefer ‘oscillates.’ It’s a less emotionally-charged term. But sure, I know that,” Xander says, and he sounds amused.

Ben can’t think of anything else to say, except, “I’ll bring you some coffee.”

“And one of those cookie things?”

“What? You’re breaking up, I can’t –” Ben makes some kooosh tik kshhhhhh noises before hanging up. But of course he brings one of those cookie things for Xander. In fact, he brings three of them.

Things are getting kind of intense.

* * *

“So I’ve written something for you,” Ben says nervously. He tosses Xander a closed, but not sealed envelope stuffed with paper.

Xander opens it curiously, and then gives him a look.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not.”

“I can see it in your face. You want to laugh.” Ben glares.

Xander unfolds the papers properly and smoothes them out. “List of fears, huh?” He peruses. “This was very thoughtful of you, Benjamin. Thank you.” Xander flips through the back sheets, and Ben sees his mouth quivering. “You – you have a list of horror movies here too.”

“Yeah. The ones I find most scary. I’m trying to help,” Ben clarifies.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“No you don’t,” Ben says, scowling. Xander smiles at his pouting and pulls him in for a quick kiss.

“Really, I do. Although I’m not sure why you think your fear of – frogs? Is something that I should know about.”

“You know why,” Ben snaps. “For the thing. When we do it.”

“You think I’m going to cover you in frogs and get off on that?” Xander asks, but his tone is mild. “Why are you scared of them, anyway?”

“They ook me out,” Ben explains. “My sister used to hide them in my sleeping bag when we went camping. She told me they were trying to eat me. I was young. Very young.” That last bit is kind of a lie, but Ben has his pride.

“You’ve also written ‘eye injuries’ here,” Xander observes. “You think I’m going to stick a needle–”

“No, no, no, don’t even say something like that!” Ben shouts, bolting off the couch. “Seriously, man, that’s not cool.”

“Okay,” Xander says, trying not to smile. “Hard limit. Got it.”

“Look, I just don’t see how you’re really going to scare me. I know you’d never really hurt me. I’m not afraid of you.” Ben is flapping his hands around. He feels ridiculous, and knows he probably looks it, but he wants things to work out for Xander, and he’s not sure Xander is really committed to the whole thing.

Xander shrugs. “Don’t worry so much, Ballard. Your brain will do the work. It’ll scare you for me.”

“What is that even supposed to mean? You’re going to tell me urban legends and make creaking noises so I think there’s someone else in the room?”

“What? Jesus, where do you get this stuff? No.” Xander runs a hand through his hair and allows himself a proper laugh. “No. I mean, your actual brain, your limbic system.”

“Oh.” Ben pauses, and then adds, “I don’t get it.”

Xander stands up next to him and rubs his arm, placating. “You’re wired to feel fear as a survival instinct. That’s what I’m talking about.”

Ben looks dubious. “Well, just so you know, I don’t like toy frogs either. My sister started using them instead, after she got in trouble for the real ones.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Xander says, ducking his head. Ben is sure he’s laughing again, but by the time Xander looks up again he’s managed to wipe away traces of his amusement.

“And when are we going to do it, anyway?” Ben demands. “You’re starting to worry me.”

“Soon enough. There’s no rush.”

“I get nervous every time I come home, just in case you’re waiting in here to jump me.”

“I would never do that, not with something like this.” Xander looks alarmed, like even the thought of it is way over a line. “Besides, in one week you went from ‘too drastic’ to buying me a knife as a homecoming gift. Give a guy time to process stuff, you know?” He smiles again, but it’s a little distant this time.

Ben almost says more, but backs off. He’s surprised to realize that he hasn’t thought about it from Xander’s point of view for a long time, not like that. Ben knows Xander likes these things, but doesn’t really think much about how Xander deals with them in his own mind.

How he processes them.

“What do you want to do for lunch?” Xander is asking. “I feel like noodles. Or one of those cookie things.”

“It must be lonely,” Ben blurts out before he can stop himself. Xander looks surprised, but he gets it.

“Not so much. Not anymore.” He looks at Ben. “Come on. Cookie time.”

* * *

“You’re early,” Xander says, opening his front door to Ben a few days later. He has a half-smile and something is clearly going on.

“What’s going on?” Ben asks immediately.

“Well – don’t be mad at me, but there’s a guy in the bedroom,” Xander says, grinning. Ben thinks he’s joking, but it’s true. A hot guy in jeans and a tight t-shirt, and a tool belt. He’s a dirty blond with light eyes and is totally Xander’s type.

Ben looks back and forth between the guy and Xander, but the guy seems unfazed. “Simple fix,” he says. “I can do it right now if you like. I got some stuff in the truck.”

“That would be great, thank you,” Xander replies politely. The hot guy pushes past Ben with a nod and leaves, presumably to get stuff from his truck.

“What’s going on?” Ben asks again.

“It was going to be a surprise,” Xander shrugs. “I’m getting the hole fixed.”

“The hole? That I made? That night? When I punched the wall?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. And…yes.”

Ben stares at him. “Why?”

“You’ve never liked me keeping it, and now you’re asking me why I’m fixing it?”

“Why now?”

“Because I don’t need it anymore,” Xander says. “I don’t need it hanging around as a reminder, and neither do you.”

Ben realizes his mouth is hanging open. “When did you decide this?” he asks, as an excuse to shut it.

“When I figured out what I’m going to do with you,” Xander says, giving him a sexy-sharp grin and a pinch in the side.

“Ouch,” Ben growls, shoving his hand away. “And you just had to get the hottest plasterer in the state to do it, did you?”

“No,” Xander says. “That was just a happy surprise. But look at it this way – if you’d punched him, it would have been a big sign from the universe to keep the hole.”

Ben admits to himself that Xander has a point there. But he’s not going to admit it to Xander. Not yet.

“Also,” Xander says, and gets a strange look on his face. “I wanted to talk to you about hitting things. It was going to be my segue.”

“I haven’t been hitting any more walls,” Ben says immediately.

“I know. Just – wait till this is done.”

Ben sits on the couch with cat Henry, who has also forgiven him for the houseplant incident, but Noah the dog is too excitable at the noise and interesting new smells, and has to be locked away. Henry switches his tail and narrows his eyes at the hot plasterer, and Ben resolves to feed him tenderloin steak next time Xander’s away.

The good thing about the hot plasterer is that he finishes quickly and clears out. Ben notices that Xander tips him liberally, but steadfastly ignores it. Then when Xander gives him a smirk, he realizes that he did it on purpose.

“You like pushing my buttons?” he asks, backing Xander into the wall next to the freshly plastered hole and kissing him possessively.

“It’s fun,” Xander says when they break, pulling him snugly against his crotch so that Ben can feel him get hard. “Especially since you trust me more these days. Mm. Take your clothes off.”

“I thought you wanted to talk.”

“It can wait.”

Xander fucks him up against the wall, right next to the still-sticky plaster. It’s uncomfortable and awkward and they have to remember to keep their hands away from the drying plaster, and it’s very, very good. Ben comes first, too soon; he had been trying to hang on, but Xander doesn’t let him. He doesn’t bite, but he kisses where he usually bites. Ben pants at him to bite, just bite, please, but he won’t. Ben tries to remember the last time there were only kisses and only fucking and it was a long time ago.

Xander swipes his fingers through the cum all over the wall and sucks it off thoughtfully while he leisurely waits to get soft enough so that he just slips out of Ben’s ass. He likes the way it frustrates Ben to stand there waiting. “It’s good, isn’t it?” he asks. “Not having the reminder.”

“Yes.” It’s good. It’s strange. The hole has been there for so long.

“I’ll paint over it,” Xander says. “When it dries.”

“Let me,” Ben asks. It’s the least he can do.

“We can do it together,” Xander says magnanimously.

“Are we going to talk now?”

“Sure.” But Xander makes him wait a little longer, spread-eagled on the wall. He kisses him again over the old bite-bruises before letting him go.

But they don’t talk, because they get sidetracked by showers, and cleaning dried jizz off the wall, and then food and missed phone calls, and Xander’s brother Joe comes over unexpectedly, and they start playing Call of Duty and by the time he leaves it’s late and Ben wants Xander again and Xander wants Ben.

Next to the plastered-over hole. Again.

This time it’s all about hand jobs, and Ben has his back to the wall, and the plaster’s dry enough that they don’t need to be careful of it. They do each other slowly, teasing, and Xander lets him last as long as he wants this time. He covers Ben’s eyes gently with his other hand before he comes, because he doesn’t let Ben watch his face, even though Ben protests every time that he’s seen it once, so what’s the big mystery. But there’s a mystery there, because actions make it so.

And it was so long ago that Xander let him watch that Ben can barely remember, even though he held on to that memory for a long time.

There’s no biting again, which is weird, just kissing.

“Don’t you want to bite me anymore?” Ben asks sleepily, once they’re in bed. He feels Xander smile against his shoulder. Xander is snuggled up against him and their arms and legs are tangled.

“I love to bite you, Benjamin.”

“Why do you love it?”

“Probably some Freudian thing.”

“You don’t believe in Freud.”

Xander snorts. “He’s not God, Ballard. Or Tinkerbell. Belief has nothing to do with it.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” And that’s all that Xander says about the matter. Ben forgets that he never answered his question about why there are no more bites until the next day, when he finally gets back to his writing critique group, who really like his new play so far, and Ben is so pleased he forgets all about the biting thing by the time he gets home.

* * *

Ben never thought he would feel strange about not being covered in bruises and bites and marks, but he does. Xander is being affectionate during sex where he’s usually caused pain, like – like what Ben wants to call ‘a normal person,’ but that seems offensive – and it’s strange and discomforting. He still holds Ben down in bed, or orders him to do things, but that’s all. No bites, no pain, no props. No marks.

No physical reminders.

It’s disconcerting.

When Ben complains, Xander just smiles his Xander smile and makes non-committal responses.

“And we never talked,” Ben says. “That thing you wanted to talk about, with me hitting things.” If Ben is honest with himself, he’s been putting off talking. Like most guys, he has an intrinsic aversion to the very phrase ‘We need to talk.’ But he’s manning up. “So? What did you want to talk about?”

“What thing?”

That does it. Xander looks serious. “Yeah, we do need to discuss that.”

They talk in bed. Xander’s choice. They get sidetracked again by fucking, but Ben is so weirded out by the stuff Xander isn’t doing — no pain, not even a tiny nibble — that he doesn’t forget about the talking this time.

“So?” he says, poking Xander in the arm afterwards.

“Mph. Okay, okay.” Xander rolls on to his side and looks at him. “I’ve figured it out,” he says. “What I want to do when we do the thing we we’re gonna do.”

“You’re lucky I have a vague understanding of your brain workings, Romano,” is all Ben says.

“I’ve figured out how I want to terrify you. Better?”

“Much,” Ben grins.

“First of all, I’m going to say things to you. But I want you to know, I don’t really mean them. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Sticks and stones, Alexander.”

“You can always safe word if you don’t like it. Also…I’m going to be pretty physical with you.”

Ben looks at him, smirking. “Because that’s never happened before.”

“You’re probably going to get angry. And even if you don’t, you’re probably going to want to fight back because of the fear, when it comes on.”

Ben doesn’t say anything to that, although he’s thinking, Yeah. Right. I’m gonna be soooo scared.

“I want you to know that’s okay,” Xander continues. “Even if you try to hit me during it, that’s okay.”

“Okay.” Ben takes it in. “Wait, what? What do you mean, hit you?”

“I mean, you’re probably going to try to punch me. Or at least the wall again.” Xander isn’t kidding, although his eyes are sparkling. “I’d kind of prefer if you could hit me, though, because that plaster guy was expensive, what with the big tip and all.”

“But,” Ben says, feeling stupid, “I’m not allowed.” He stares at Xander, trying to twist his perceptions like a kaleidoscope that might one day make a proper picture. All he can think of saying are things like But you said and But that’s violence.

“Normally, no. Hitting people is not a good thing to do. But I’m granting you a special dispensation for this.”

“You are so unbearably Catholic, Alexander,” Ben says, but he’s only half listening to his own words. Hitting Xander is not something he even wants to think about, and this conversation is making him feel uneasy.

“I think we can all agree that the Pope has reserved a very special part of Hell for me,” Xander says. “But if you want to have a theological conversation, maybe we can wait till we’ve thrashed this out.” He grins at his own bad pun.

“I don’t want to hit you,” Ben says, frowning. “Ever.”

“I know. I’m just saying. During this thing, don’t feel bad if you do.”

“I’m not going to.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just saying it’s okay if it happens.”

“I really don’t think it’s a consideration,” Ben says, sighing.

Xander has the temerity to laugh. “So I’m assuming you’ve never been mugged or physically threatened before?”

“Nope. I’ve been lucky. And I’ve never started a fight I couldn’t finish.”

“That’s…not really something to brag about.” But Xander leans over and kisses Ben. “And there’s nothing I should know about? No triggers you haven’t mentioned?”

“Nope. Trigger-free and loving it,” Ben replies dismissively.

“I’m going to cut you, Benjamin,” Xander says quietly. “You understand that?”

Ben rolls his eyes. “I’m the guy who bought you the knife, aren’t I? Sure I understand. You worry too much.”

And that’s the end of the conversation, because Ben cuts it off by kissing Xander. But Ben remembers that talk afterwards, after they do the thing. Because Xander was making sure, he realizes later. Making sure nothing unexpected was going to come up.

And Ben just didn’t get it at the time.

* * *

The next night in bed, Xander has butterfly band-aids on his chest. Three of them, covering three short cuts, each deeper than the last.

“What the fuck is this?” Ben demands. He’s actually jealous. It’s embarrassing.

“What?” Xander asks, too intent on rubbing his cock against Ben’s hip. “Oh, that. Nothing. Practice.”

Ben looks incredulous.

“You think I’m going to cut you without knowing what I’m doing?” Xander says, breathing heavily as the friction grows. “That would be dangerous.”

“Why can’t you practice on me?”

“Move your leg so I can – yeah,” Xander sighs. “Like that. That’s good. And because I need to know how much is too much. Now be quiet.” He kisses Ben to make sure, starts rutting against him, holding their cocks together in a tight hand. When he cums he opens his mouth wide around where he normally bites, all wet and hot, and Ben starts shooting too and braces for the pain, but Xander makes a noise he’s never heard him make before, and pulls away, gasping.

“Just bite me,” Ben says when they’ve recovered. “Why won’t you bite me?”

“I bet you were one of those kids who demanded to eat their candy in the store before it was bought and paid for,” Xander says sleepily.

“I was not,” Ben snaps. Although he does remember one time – but that’s not the point. “I like it when you bite me, and you haven’t done it in a long time.”

“Just wait, Benjamin.”

Xander falls asleep quickly. Ben glares mutinously at the ceiling for a long time.

* * *

“But you’ve cut people before,” Ben says the next morning. “Right?”

Xander blearily looks at the clock. “Have you been having a conversation with me all night while I’ve been asleep?” he asks into the pillow.

“Just answer the question.”

“Yes.”

“So why do you need prac –”

“Oh my God,” Xander groans, and then his voice starts getting louder and louder as he talks. “Because every blade is different. And I have to make sure that the cuts aren’t deep enough to scar. And I have to definitely make sure I don’t cut so deep that you lose too much blood and go into shock. And I have to check how long they’ll take to heal up. Because I’m not going to do something if I’m not aware of the risks involved. Because I fucking care about you and I don’t want to cause you permanent damage!”

“I was just asking,” Ben says, hurt, although the idea of him bleeding out in Xander’s apartment gives him pause. Or at least, the idea that Xander has even considered it.

Xander makes a big noise of frustration and pulls the pillow over his head. He pulls it down again a few seconds later and says, “I’m sorry. Ask all the questions you want. You’re the one who’s going to get cut, after all.”

Ben shifts over and pulls Xander’s hand into his own. “Why were you so weird about it just then?” he asks.

“It felt like…you were trying to get into my head.”

“I’m just curious,” Ben tells him. “About everything. I trust you. And I’m glad you take precautions.”

Xander squeezes his hand. “More sleep?” he asks hopefully.

“Why aren’t you hurting me now when we have sex?” Ben asks. He hears Xander stifle a sigh.

“Two reasons,” he says. “One, I want a clean canvas to work on when I cut you. No marks or bruises underneath. And two, so it’ll be better on the day, more intense.”

Better for whom, Ben wonders darkly. “I miss it,” he says.

“So do I,” Xander says fervently.

“Maybe we could just –”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was –”

“Hell yes I do.” He rolls over on the pillow to look at Ben, laughter in his eyes. “Just let it go, Ballard. It’ll all come back soon enough.”

“But I don’t have anything to remember you by,” Ben says dolefully. “During the day.” He sees a fire flare up in Xander’s eyes, and smiles. “Gotcha.”

“Oh, I’ll give you something to remember today,” Xander growls.

Unfortunately, Ben thinks later, shifting around in his hard chair during at his group writing critique, that wasn’t quite what I had in mind. His ass is still sore. But Xander was right. He’s remembering.

“Oh, hey, Ben Ballard, right?” asks one of the guys during the break. Ben is drinking coffee and trying to eat a stale donut, but it’s not happening. He tosses it towards the trash can.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he says.

The guy holds out his hand. “We kind of met at a party,” he says. “I’m a friend of Adam’s. Although I don’t know if we really met, or just...” he trails off, his grin faltering as he sees Ben’s face.

Ben forces himself to shake hands. “Hi.”

“It’s Greg,” the guy says.

“Yeah. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing really,” he says, shrugging. “Just saying hi. Adam told me you’re with Alexander Romano; I was just wondering how you two were doing.”

Ben thinks he must have learned a thing or two from Xander, because Greg takes a full step back at the sight of his face. “Adam?” Ben asks. “Oh, sure. Yeah. How’s he doing?”

“Over in Hawaii right now,” Greg says, blinking. “Surfing.”

Don’t start thinking there’s anything special there just because he kisses it all better when he’s finished. Adam’s voice echoes in his head, still. Ben hasn’t told Xander about it, because it’s not something Xander needs to know.

“Right.” Ben can feel more teeth than are necessary in his smile.

“I’ll - let you get back to it,” Greg says, stepping away.

* * *

Xander calls Ben as he’s driving home from the critique group, but before Xander can say anything, Ben asks him if he knows a Greg, who’s shopping around a shitty horror script about mega-squids.

“Um. Maybe?”

“He’s a friend of Adam’s,” Ben says shortly.

Silence. And then, “Oh, yeah. Greg. I know him.”

“He’s in my critique group.”

“Oh.”

“He asked about us. Mentioned Adam. Apparently Adam’s in Hawaii.”

Ben hears Xander sigh. “Why are you so hung up on Adam?”

“I’m not,” Ben snaps.

“I can’t just disappear him, you know. Much as I’d like to.”

“I know.”

“It’s not like I’m still in contact with him,” Xander points out.

“I know.” Ben pulls viciously into his turn off lane, ignoring horns blaring.

“What are you doing?” Xander asks, alarmed.

“Driving.”

“Just be careful,” Xander mutters.

There’s silence again and then Ben relents. “So let me guess. The Icy Bear needs a coffee?”

“Yeah. And -”

“One of those cookie things.” Ben smiles to himself and lets the next car merge into his lane without honking at it, even though it’s way too close.

Xander is saying: “If it’s any consolation, I think I’m growing out of the cookie phase. I’ve only had two this week.”

“You don’t have to give me a cover story,” Ben grins. “I’ll be there soon. With coffee and cookies.”

“The Icy Bear thanks you.” He can hear Xander’s smile, and it warms him all through.

“See you soon.” Ben shakes his head after he hangs up. This romantic stuff is embarrassing.

He buys four cookies for Xander.

* * *

“And you’re sure there’s nothing I need to know about?” Xander asks again.

Ben wants to curse, a really filthy-bad word or phrase that will make Xander blink and look shocked and disapproving, but he doesn’t. “For the sixty-fifth time,” he says instead, through clenched teeth. “No.”

Xander has been at him, regularly, asking about things that might have happened to Ben, bullying or accidents or abuse. Just in case, he keeps saying. Just in case. Ben asked him once if persistent badgering counts, but Xander didn’t think it was funny.

“I’m not going to freak out,” Ben says each time. “I promise.”

“Okay,” Xander says finally. “But you know it’s not just the physical stuff I need to know about, right? If there’s anything – if you have any doubts or thoughts I should know about, you’d tell me, right? Honesty Policy.”

“There’s nothing,” Ben says. “I promise.”

It’s not a lie, exactly. Ben just doesn’t think Xander needs to know about some stuff. Doesn’t need to know that Ben, very occasionally, thinks about Adam, and what he said in the kitchen at the party. Because Ben didn’t believe it at the time, and still doesn’t, so it’s a moot point.

For Ben, waiting to heal up from all his marks is torturous. Sometimes he tries to provoke Xander into biting him or using the crop or cane on him, or spanking him, or pinching him, or something, anything, but Xander is like some fucking Zen Master now and never loses his control. Although Ben counts it as a draw when he sees that particularly hungry look in Xander’s eyes, like he wants to eat him all up.

“You’re like the Big Bad Wolf,” he laughs once in bed, when Xander makes a frustrated growling noise into Ben’s neck, because he wants to bite, but won’t.

“Stop teasing me,” Xander grits out. “Or I’ll make you stand silently in the corner for an hour.”

Ben laughs again, but Xander adds quietly, “You think I’m joking, but I’m not.” Ben shuts up quickly. An hour staring at a blank corner wall might sound funny, but when he thinks about it – no. No, he’d rather have sex than stand in the corner.

“I’ll be good,” he promises.

“Mm, you better be.” And when Xander manages to get two mind-shattering orgasms out of him, Ben is doubly sure that he made the right decision to be good, even though his neck and shoulders and chest have phantom aches from non-bites.

In lieu of biting, Xander’s been obsessing about fucking him up against the wall, next to what used to be the hole. It was weird for the first week, but Ben looks forward to it now, because Xander is always so snuggly and tells him how good he is. Xander blows him more than usual there, holding Ben’s wrists behind his back loosely with one hand and making him control his orgasm for as long as possible before swallowing down his come neatly. He gets Ben to jack him off while they kiss, Xander pushing a hand over Ben’s eyes when he cums, because Ben isn’t allowed to watch.

It’s only when Ben’s body is free of bruises that Xander says they’re ready. It’s been over three weeks since Xander stopped marking him up and Ben is absolutely itching to feel something, something painful and ouchy and intense.

He has to admit, Xander’s plan worked.

They both arrange time off from work. Xander thinks they’ll need four days at least from go to whoa. “I’ll get someone to take Noah and Henry.”

Ben raises his eyebrows. That’s serious. “Okay,” he says. “Should I, I don’t know, bring a heavy-duty gag with me?” It’s supposed to be a joke but it comes out straight.

Xander laughs anyway. “I have one,” he says. “So no.”

Their boss Karl isn’t happy about them both taking time off, especially since Dorian quit thanks to his big break, and Mariah is picking up small roles consistently now. Jae has constant auditions. Xander’s show won’t start shooting until months from now, so he’s still taking shifts at the coffee shop, but he uses publicity interviews as an excuse to Karl to take time off.

Ben feels like the only one whose career is stalling, but truth be told, beyond his late-night writing sprints and the critique group, he doesn’t think about it all that much. He’s completely overtaken by Alexander Romano now, has no problem putting him before work. Before everything else. Because soon enough Ben knows he’ll have to share Xander with the rest of the world, when Xander fulfils all that potential and becomes a huge star.

It’s inevitable.

* * *

Xander seems totally normal when Ben turns up on the night of their planned scene. Noah and Henry are with Joe, Xander tells Ben when he asks. They watch TV for a while, although they avoid the Halloween marathon. (The Halloween franchise was included in Ben’s list of scary movies.) Ben wants a drink, but Xander only allows him one low-alcohol beer early in the evening. He doesn’t say why he’s cutting Ben off, but Ben knows. Every so often Xander asks, “What are your safe words?”

“Odyssey, too drastic. I know what they are, why do you keep asking?”

“Because I want you to be as safe as possible, and you haven’t really needed them for a while.”

When Xander finally, finally takes Ben’s hand and pulls him towards the bedroom, Ben has gone beyond anticipation, beyond nerves, to cockiness. He is one hundred percent sure that this is not going to be as intense as Xander seems to think. Xander doesn’t seem concerned though, and Ben doesn’t sense the change like he usually does, the sharp delineation between Out There and In Here. It’s been a while since he’s seen that change, anyway, after Xander’s moratorium on hard play.

Xander leans in the doorway, watching Ben as he starts stripping off without even being told. “Remember how you said you’ve never started a fight you couldn’t finish?” he asks, as Ben kicks off his shoes.

“Sure,” Ben says.

“That’s not actually true, is it?”

Ben glances up at him, questioning.

“You tried to pick a fight with me that time you came over and found Dorian and my club friends here.”

Ben shrugs, pulls off his jeans. “I guess. That doesn’t really count.”

Xander takes off his shirt and throws it aside, but leaves his black jeans on. There are an old set of sheets on the bed and towels on the chair, but other than that, nothing’s changed. Ben kind of expected a lot of plastic. You’ve watched too many serial killer movies, he thinks.

The knife is nowhere to be seen.

“So how do you want me?” Ben asks with a grin when he’s finally naked. He starts stroking his cock brazenly, because Xander likes watching him do that.

“You can wipe that smirk off, for a start,” Xander says mildly, closing the bedroom door. He never closes the bedroom door. But Ben doesn’t register that, not yet. He raises an eyebrow at Xander.

“Oh, yeah?” he says.

Xander is all up in his personal space faster than he thought possible, and before Ben can move, shoves him hard enough to knock him backwards. Ben doesn’t get it; gives a bewildered smile. Xander moves forward and shoves again, more force behind it.

A third time, and Ben bangs backwards into the wall. But Xander still won’t quit it. He pushes again as Ben steps forward, making his head bump lightly against the plaster.

“Hey – cut it out!” Ben doesn’t understand yet.

“Make me,” Xander says, and there’s no trace of a smile at all. He grabs Ben’s shoulder and squeezes too tight.

“Ow,” Ben says, and clutches at Xander’s hand. “Ow!”

Xander leans forward and says into his ear, “You are such a fucking little bitch, Ballard. You always take it and you never push back.”

Ben is confused. He knows it’s part of the game, but he’s never heard Xander sound so cold and so mean, especially after the last three weeks of strange affection. “You’re hurting me,” he says.

“You like it when I hurt you.” His fingers dig in again.

“Fuck! Quit it.”

“You’ve been begging me to hurt you.”

“Not like that!”

“Then stop me.” Xander gives another excruciating twist to his shoulder. Ben thinks, Fine, whatever, it’s your game. And pushes his hands gently into Xander’s chest, trying to move him away. It’s like gently pushing a fridge.

“See? You like it,” Xander says, and squeezes even harder, somehow, and Ben really pushes him this time because goddamn it hurts. His arm feels weak, but he manages to force Xander backwards this time.

“Finally,” Xander drawls. “Jesus. I was beginning to think there was no fight in you at all.” But he shoves back again and Ben collides with the wall, again. Xander looks at him. “No. I was right the first time,” he says under his breath.

“Don’t,” Ben growls, and he’s beginning to get annoyed. This is confusing, and Xander doesn’t seem like Xander.

Xander grasps his face, squeezing his fingers into Ben’s cheeks, and Ben bats him away; Xander grabs again, looks his face over. “Yeah. You just take it, like always,” he says. “Don’t you ever get tired of just taking it?”

Ben pulls his head away and tries to get past, but Xander blocks him. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“You said you were going to cut me,” Ben says, and he can’t meet Xander’s eyes. He can’t think what else to say, not when Xander is looking at him like this. “And you’re – you’re not cutting me.” He doesn’t even see the knife anywhere in the room. He feels uneasy, but there’s undeniably something sexy about the feeling.

But Ben won’t give into it that easily.

Xander is appraising him, and Ben becomes uncomfortably aware of the pulse beating rapidly in his neck. He feels perverse; he’s not going to show anything if Xander won’t.

“Just – just get on with it, just cut me,” he says, trying to step forward. Xander shoves; Ben bangs into the wall again. “Stop doing that! I’m not going to hit you.”

Xander gives him a look Ben has never seen before, and it’s not a nice look. A smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, worse than if he weren’t smiling at all. “Of course you’re not going to hit me. As if you could.”

Ben searches his face then for a trace of Xander, other Xander, his Xander, but there’s nothing there. He knows, rationally, that this is exactly what Xander said he was going to do, and exactly what Ben agreed to, and so, rationally, it’s okay. But it doesn’t feel very rational, not with Xander’s soul-blank eyes a few inches away from his own, watching him like he’s a zoo animal. A curiosity.

“Are you going to cry?” Xander asks in a little sing-song voice. “Are you going to cry again, Benjamin? Cry for me?”

Ben feels like he’s been slapped in the face, and yeah, he’s angry now. “I. Don’t. Cry,” he tells Xander, stabbing a finger into his shoulder with every word. He’s walked them back to the middle of the room and he can feel his own naked chest and shoulders flushing with resentment. “And I’m not going to.” He shoves back, figuring if Xander’s allowed to, so is he.

Xander tilts his head slightly and looks into Ben’s eyes, but it’s like he’s not seeing Ben, just a set of reactions. “I think you are,” Xander says softly. “I think you’re going to cry.” He reaches up and grabs a handful of Ben’s hair, pulling hard.

Ben makes a sudden decision to get a shorter cut again. At least then Xander won’t be able to get such a goddamn vice-like grip in his hair.

“Stop it,” Ben spits. “Stop it.” But it doesn’t stop. He’s getting really pissed off, and Xander is really fucking hurting him. He grabs Xander’s wrist, but Xander just yanks harder. Ben gets down on his knees, because that’s the way Xander’s fist is directing him.

For a second Ben thinks Xander wants a blow job, and reaches tentatively for his waistband, but one look into Xander’s face tells him he’s way off. Xander’s eyes are glassy. He looks high. Unrecognizable. Ben thought Xander might look like he does when he’s practicing for his part in The Hunter, because he assumed it would be an act.

But it’s not an act. Xander is not playing a part.

This is Alexander Romano, unleashed.

In that moment Ben feels, with a horrible queasy sensation, an unwilling camaraderie with Adam. If Xander looked at Adam like this, Ben can kind of understand what went down between them.

“You’re such a child,” Xander is telling him. “You cry all the time. Scared of frogs? Horror movies?” Ben swears to himself he’s never going to make a list of anything for Xander again.

Xander slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out the knife. It’s still closed.

Xander has used a million things on Ben by now. Crops, canes, paddles, belts. They were all just props. This is not a prop.

It’s all carbon steel and black inlay and so, so ugly. In the shop, it was a beautiful thing; and it was beautiful when it was lying in its box, inert, and Ben watched Xander’s face glowing as he looked at it. When he’s seen Xander playing with it, flipping it open and closed like a meditation, it was a beautiful thing.

Xander keeps hold of Ben’s hair, forcing his face towards the knife, and flicks it open with a soft snick — too close to his eye, Ben thinks, way too close to his eye.

And it doesn’t matter at all how much Ben knows his Xander wouldn’t really hurt him, because his Xander isn’t there, and there’s a fucking knife in his fucking face.

Ben doesn’t make a conscious choice. He scrambles backwards, ripping his hair out of Xander’s hand. There are only three things in the room: the knife, the person who used to be Xander, and his own pulse points, which are throbbing out in his skin like they want to be opened.

Little traitors, every one.

Ben grits his teeth, tries to stand, his palms too sweaty to give him much grip on the wall, but he gets most of the way up before Xander moves forward again, the knife still in Ben’s eye-line and too-casually held.

Ben doesn’t even have to think about it. He starts forward, trying to attack back. But Xander is expecting it, and crashes heavily forward into Ben instead before he can impact.

Ben feels like an asteroid meeting a small planet. Fingers grab him hard at the shoulder, digging in painfully again, and he crashes backwards into the wall. The hanging picture above the bed clatters on its hook. His back and shoulders take the force and he yelps from shock rather than pain.

He has no fucking idea where the knife is, and he has to know.

“Stop!” he wheezes. Xander smashes his mouth into Ben’s, teeth breaking the skin of his lip, enamel screeching. Ben tastes blood and Xander. He’s L.A. enough to worry about his veneers.

His mind is trying to form the words that will stop this happening, but his mouth won’t say them. Xander is clenching a fist in his hair again, teething at his torn lip, making it worse, but all Ben can think to say is Stop but he knows that isn’t the magic word.

He’s in a nightmare, unable to run. Unable to chant the incantation that will stop the monster from tearing him apart.

He panics, tries to punch, tries to kick Xander right in the fucking balls, but it does no good. Xander flattens him against the wall, and Ben finds his wrist seized painfully tight; his other arm pinned between them and immobilized. His cheekbone is scraping over the wall.

His heart is thundering in his ears, and he’s never felt so excited in his life…or terrified. Oh God, oh God, how can dread and desire co-exist like this?

He still doesn’t know where the knife is.

He hears Xander breathing heavily, hot breath damp on his neck. Xander is saying something in his ear, forcing the words out clearly.

“This is quite a drastic odyssey.”

Xander knows. He’s telling Ben his safe words, asking him if he wants to tap out.

“I said –”

“I heard what you said,” Ben snarls, finding his voice. “Fuck you.” He hears the words but doesn’t recognize himself. He sounds savage, ferocious.

Xander bites down on his shoulder, hard enough to pierce skin, and Ben chokes on his own scream. Gets a hand free and tries to claw at Xander’s mouth, rip those teeth out of his flesh.

Xander drags him across the room to slam him into the opposite wall, right next to the plastered-over hole. He pulls Ben’s hands down behind his back and gives him another vicious kiss.

“Your face,” he pants. “It just looks so much better with some color in it.”

“Not here, please, not here,” Ben hears himself saying. This spot is a good spot, it’s supposed to be a safe spot.

“You know what to say.” Xander lets him go, but Ben finds he can’t stand on his own. His lip is bleeding, he can feel it, and his entire face stings. His nose is aching. He takes a brief moment to feel grateful that it’s not bleeding too, because once he gets a bloody nose it just doesn’t stop.

He’s sliding down the wall slowly. “Stand up,” Xander hisses. “I want to watch your face.” But Ben can’t stop sliding. His vision is slightly fuzzy now too. His head is starting to buzz.

“I’m flying,” he says, and smiles.

That’s when Xander grabs him between the legs. “Not yet,” he breathes, and it’s a command. “Only when I say.” It brings Ben’s focus back, sharp, into his body. Xander literally has him by the balls, but the weird thing is, Ben is hard. Not just hard, but throbbing.

Xander runs light fingers over Ben’s cock as though testing it, checking to see if it’s real or just an act.

“You do like it,” he says, almost wondering.

Ben’s urge to fly, to slip into the clouds and up above the atmosphere, is almost overwhelming. But Xander has the knife in his hand.

“Please, please.” Ben can barely hear himself. He places his hands carefully against Xander’s chest. He doesn’t want to make any sudden moves. His legs are trembling with the effort of standing up. He shoots his eyes sideways, past the plastered hole, at the closed door, wondering if he could make it in time. But it’s locked. It’s locked shut.

And then the knife is too close to Ben’s face for him to concentrate on anything else. “I could do anything I want to you right now,” Xander says, leaning in for another kiss. He sucks at the wound on Ben’s lip, then pulls back. Spits blood back in his face and Ben flinches like it’s a slap. “Say it. Tell me, baby.”

“You could do anything you want to me right now,” Ben parrots. Xander squeezes his fingers round his cock, and Ben clenches his hands against him. “Please,” he says. He doesn’t know whether he’s begging to cum or begging to stop.

“Oh, fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” Xander breathes. Ben looks at him properly, makes an effort to focus his eyes, and still doesn’t recognize him. Xander’s lips are stained red and drawn back from his teeth in something that is not a smile. There are scratches clawed into his face.

Xander puts the knife up against the wall next to Ben’s head, and if there’s one thing Ben is thankful for, it’s that he can’t see it anymore. The relief makes him lightheaded. The buzzing comes back, stronger than ever. He thinks about frogs. Phobia cured. Frogs don’t eat people, but Xander–

“You can stop me.” Xander is waiting for something.

“No,” Ben says. “I don’t want to stop you.” For a horrible second he thinks he’s going to piss himself, like a child. His mind stops. This time he’s sliding no matter what.

But Xander catches him under the arm, almost tender. He helps him to the bed, where Ben collapses, his limbs heavy and indolent.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Xander says, straddling him, making sure his arms are immobilized. “Don’t you fucking dare go flying. Not until I say you can.” He points the knife straight at Ben’s face. A thin rivulet of blood has run down Xander’s face, down his neck, and is congealing gradually above his clavicle. I did that, Ben thinks, and feels satisfaction.

“Unless I safe word,” he says spitefully. He just wants to slip under, to float away, and Xander won’t let him.

Xander looks at him, raising an eyebrow. A moment passes.

Then Xander speaks. “If you’re not going to safe word right now,” he says softly, “Then let’s get on with this.” Ben shivers. “But if you are going to safe word, you’d better do it now.”

“I’m not scared,” Ben whispers. “I’m not scared of you.” His heart is racing and he’s pretty sure Xander can feel it, because he has a hand on Ben’s chest.

“You just keep telling yourself that,” Xander says, and cuts into Ben’s chest. Makes a strangled sigh in the back of his throat. Ben feels sharp pain and warmth welling and he stares at Xander.

“You – you cut me,” Ben says, shocked.

Xander collects his blood on the tip of a finger and smears it on to Ben’s mouth. “I cut you,” he agrees.

“I don’t like this,” Ben says, or tries to say.

“I can see that. You’re crying.” Xander pauses once more. “Safe word? No? You can even just say safe word if you like.” Ben presses his lips together as if the words might escape of their own accord.

Xander reaches down to cut into him again. “You have no idea,” he tells Ben, “how gorgeous this blade looks sliding into you. Like it’s making love to you, sinking into your flesh.” He looks right into Ben’s eyes.

Ben doesn’t remembers what happens next, but Xander tells him later.

He starts screaming, and Xander has to hold a hand over his mouth until he stops. Xander says he nearly stopped everything right there, because he figured the neighbors would be calling the cops.

Once Ben stops screaming and no one shows up at the door, Xander keeps going.

But only because Ben begs him to.

By the time Xander’s finished, Ben is shuddering, clammy, and he could swear the air is cloying with the scent of blood.

“Let me go,” he whispers. “Let me go.”

Xander knows what he’s trying to ask. “I think I’m done here. You can go, if you like. Go flying.”

But Ben can’t, despite his desperation. There’s too much going on in his head. “Help me. Please.” His whole face is soaked, and he prays it’s not with blood.

“Be quiet,” Xander whispers. “No more talking.” He lays the knife over Ben’s lips, barely touching. The blade is wet. “Shhh. Off you go.”

That does it.

“Where are you?” says a voice in his ear, but Ben has no way to tell.

“Flying,” he answers, amazed, and he can’t speak anymore. He hears something that could be a question, but English is a foreign language to him now. There are sensations, and time passes. He hears Xander’s voice, understands and obeys, opens his mouth when he’s told, because the only thing he wants to do is make Xander happy.

“Oh my God,” he says.

“Not quite,” Xander retorts. Ben feels his legs pull up, bending over Xander’s forearms. Xander is naked now too. “I’m going to fuck you, Benjamin.”

That will be just fine, Ben thinks. Whatever you want. He feels a sharp fingernail pinch on the inside of his thigh, high up. It hurts. Nothing has hurt for a while.

“Come back to me, a little bit,” Xander is saying. “I want you here for this.”

“I’m here,” he mumbles.

“You didn’t safe word.”

“No.”

“Do you need to safe word?”

“No.”

“What are your safe words, Benjamin?”

He has to think about that. “Drastic something?”

“Close enough. Back with me now?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Ben starts to feels his face aching again. He curls his fingers and toes. His eyes are sore. His nose is stuffy, and he has to breathe through his mouth, which is tangy with blood. His chest is one big hurt. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“I told you. I’m going to fuck you.”

Ben feels fingers invading his ass and bucks; it’s almost too much. But Xander is gentle, careful.

“Relax,” he says. “I won’t hurt you anymore.” He takes his time, teasing Ben until he starts asking for it. “You want it?”

Ben looks at him for the first time in a long time. He’s been afraid to look, but Xander, his Xander, has returned. He has blood on his mouth and bruises and scratches on his face, but it’s Xander again.

“Yes. I want you.”

“Ask me nicely. Say please.”

Ben takes a deep, shuddering breath and reaches a hand out. When Xander takes it, Ben clutches like he’s drowning. Where am I? Beneath the sun’s rising, or beneath the turning point of the icy Bear? He thinks about Ursa Major, wheeling around the North Star. He has no use for the sun right now.

“Please would you fuck me,” he says, his voice cracking.

Xander slides in slowly and Ben thinks about the knife sliding into his skin, and gasps. Xander is inside him and falling over him, his arm braced on the wall. A drop of sweat splashes down onto Ben, and he flinches. Xander’s eyes glaze over for a second, but then he’s back again.

“You are so fucking amazing,” Xander tells him. Ben feels something; it takes a second to place it as pride. “You have been so good tonight. Such a good boy for me.”

Ben shifts his hips, tries to get Xander deeper into him. Xander pulls him closer, making him curl up into it. Ben closes his eyes, feels Xander’s fingers tracing over his chest, tries not to think about the blood, not right now. His cock is straining and clasps his hand over it. Whether he’s trying to hide it or jerk it, he’s not sure.

“Look at me,” Xander says. “I want to watch you cum.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Ben whispers. He’s so hard now that it almost hurts, but he’s not sure if he even wants to have an orgasm. He can smell sweat and Xander and blood.

“You can. You will.” Xander’s breathing has picked up and he’s thrusting deeper into him each time. Ben opens his eyes. “Don’t you want to make me happy?”

Ben gives a strangled, “Yes,” and sees Xander smile, properly.

“Then do what I tell you.”

Ben shakily obeys, rubbing lightly at first, his cock leaping up into his hand. Xander leans over, bending him like a rag doll. Kisses him and talks in his ear about how hot he looks and how good he’s being.

“Where’s the knife?” Ben asks suddenly.

“It’s gone, I put it away,” Xander says soothingly. “You don’t have to worry about it anymore. Just cum for me.”

Once Ben knows the knife is gone, things are better, and he can speed up his hand. He feels Xander moving slowly in and out of his ass, dipping down occasionally to give sharp little bites on his neck and shoulders. Ben has missed that, so much, too much. When Xander sucks into his shoulder again where he broke the skin, fitting his teeth delicately back into the marks he’s already left there, Ben squeezes hard at his cock and starts spurting, feels hot wet warmth spilling over his hand, over his stomach and onto his chest, and he thinks about blood.

Xander wraps his hand gently over Ben’s mouth, stilling the panicky noises that start after his orgasm noises, and presses his forehead into the side of his face. Ben can hear him trying to control his own breathing. “Benjamin,” he murmurs, “this probably isn’t the best time, but I think I love you.”

He cums soon after, biting, gasping, Ben shaking underneath him. Xander stays on top afterwards, hand still over Ben’s mouth, pressing his own face down into the pillow next to Ben’s neck. After a minute or two he removes his hand, and as the taste of Xander’s skin fades, Ben tastes blood from his split lip.

“Ouch,” Ben says after a while. He’s starting to feel the individual pains all over his body. He’s sticky, everywhere. “Ouch.”

“Ouch,” Xander agrees, rolling off. He starts wiping down Ben’s chest with a warm, wet towel. Ben has no idea where it came from or when it got there. It feels good, although his skin is tender. Xander pads it up to press against the shoulder bite too, and Ben feels his muscles start to relax again. Xander uses another cloth to wipe down his face, and leaves it folded for a few minutes across Ben’s sore, closed eyes.

“Was I good?” Ben asks. He has a desperate need to hear it.

“So good,” Xander exhales against his neck. “So very good.” Xander takes away the cloth and kisses his eyelids.

Ben feels Xander cleaning him down and rubbing things on him. Ice pack against his cheek and a wet cloth over his lip. Sticky gel across his back and shoulder blades. Xander shines a penlight into his eyes, and Ben starts slapping out at him before Xander holds him down carefully and explains he’s looking for signs of concussion.

He rolls around as Xander pulls up the sheet underneath him, tries not to look, because he doesn’t want to see the blood, but even out of the corner of his eye there seems to be a surprisingly small amount. He can’t look at his own body, doesn’t want to know.

He hisses at the sting of antiseptic on his shoulder and chest, and the way Xander determinedly moves him around to put band-aids and bandages on, but is half asleep by the time Xander lies down next to him. Then Xander tries to make Ben drink something through a straw, and it’s a struggle of wills.

Xander wins.

Ben feels warmth against his heart; a heat pad. Xander draws a fleecy, heavy blanket over both of them. Ben is wrapped up in soft bandages all over his upper chest and shoulders like a mummy, and it should be scary or maybe funny, but it’s not. It’s comforting.

“Benjamin,” Xander says. “Oh, God. Oh my God. Oh, God.” He’s drawing shaky breaths. He removes the ice pack over his cheekbone, tenderly touches fingers to Ben’s face.

Ben wants to make a weak joke about Xander’s religious convictions, but he’s still too out of it. He gropes for Xander’s hand, tugs at it, and tucks their joined hands together under his cheek.

Xander hooks his leg over Ben; he feels safer. “I bit you too hard.”

“You cut me,” Ben says, jolting with the memory.

“Shh. Not as much as you think.” Xander brushes his mouth over the bandaged bite mark he’s left in Ben’s shoulder. Whatever that means, Ben thinks.

“What happened? After I went flying?”

“You cried. More.”

“No,” Ben says definitely. “I don’t cry.”

“You did. I licked up your tears.” Ben feels Xander’s cock twitching against his ass at the memory.

Ben thinks back over it all. “You were really mean to me!” he says, half-incredulous.

“Yes. Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“No.” Ben squeezes his fingers over Xander’s, letting him know it’s all okay. “You – you were right, though. You were scary.”

“Yeah…so were you, actually.”

“You said you loved me,” Ben adds, pressing his fingers again.

Xander goes very still and very quiet. Then he sighs, kisses the back of Ben’s neck. “Get some sleep.”

“I love you, too.”

“You’ve had a tough night. Get some sleep.” Xander shifts in the bed uneasily, but Ben hangs on, insistent, keeping close up against him.

“Do you think I’m going to leave you?” Xander doesn’t say anything. “You don’t want it to be like this all the time, do you?” Ben has to know, before he falls asleep. He thinks he could probably handle it, but socially it might…cause some problems.

“No,” Xander says. “No. It’s supposed to be more of a special occasion kind of thing. Which in itself sounds…yeah. Let’s talk about it in the morning. When we can process everything.” He moves his face into Ben’s hair. Ben can tell he’s holding his breath.

“Okay,” Ben says. “We can do it on special occasions.”

“I really think –”

Ben kicks him gently under the blanket. “Less talk,” he yawns. “More sleep. Hold me.”

And for once, it’s Xander who does as he’s told.

* * *

The next morning, they stay in bed but check their faces in Xander’s shaving mirror. The scratches Ben left in Xander’s skin look as raw under the band-aids as they did the previous night. One of them goes dangerously near his eye. And his cheekbone is blooming with a blue and purple shadow.

“Damn!” Ben whistles through his teeth. He touches Xander’s face gently. “Wow, I really got you. Sorry, man.” Ben himself only has a graze and a faint bruise over his cheekbone, and a split lip, as far as a glance in the mirror told him. His shoulder is aching where Xander bit him, though.

“Don’t apologize,” Xander smiles, moving his face away from Ben’s fingers. “Just get a manicure for next time, okay?” His smile falters a little after he speaks, his words hanging in the air between them.

Next time.

“I will,” Ben promises. “I hope there won’t be any scarring. Fuck. Sorry.” He’s starting to realize that this could affect Xander’s career. Xander’s face is intrinsically linked to his fortune, after all. “Oh, shit, you don’t have any publicity stuff lined up, do you?”

“No, and besides, I’ve had worse,” Xander shrugs. “Hey, at least you didn’t break my nose. Stop freaking. Bask in the morning-after glow of good night-before sex. We don’t have long before we have to get up.”

“It’s just,” Ben says. “I should have – I should have kept it in check. I’m sor –”

“Seriously, Ballard,” Xander says with a heavy sigh. “I’m a big boy and I can take it. We had a special dispensation, remember? And I’m not going to apologize. Not yet, anyway.” He throws an arm over Ben, nuzzling his face down into his neck. “Besides, I like it when you fight back,” he says, his breath hot on Ben’s skin.

“Wait, why do we have to get up?” Ben asks.

“Doctor’s appointment. For you.”

“Um. Are you the doctor in this scenario?”

“No,” Xander snorts. “But...we could try that some time if you’re into it.”

“So, what doctor?” Ben insists.

“The doctor. The medical practitioner to whom I am taking you for a check up.”

“Why do I need a doctor?”

“Jesus, Ben. It’s a good thing one of us thinks about these things. Remind me to call Joe if I ever injure myself.”

“No, seriously.” Ben pulls away and stares. “Why do I need a doctor? Did you – is there something wrong with me? From last night?” He feels panicky. He can’t feel anything in his body that seems like it would need emergency care, which only worries him more.

“Benjamin,” Xander says. He lays a hand over Ben’s arm and pulls him down to kiss. “You’re going to the doctor to get checked over. Just to make sure there’s nothing wrong. That’s all.”

“Why do you keep saying that? What’s wrong with me?” He’s actually starting to hyperventilate now.

“Hey,” Xander says gently, and gives him a little shake. “Nothing’s wrong. I just want to make sure. Last night – I was rougher than I should have been, that’s all.”

“And you called a doctor? You were that worried?”

Xander starts looking like he’s trying not to freak out as well. “I called and made the appointment a while ago, when we decided to do this. Just in case. That’s all. There’s nothing wrong, except…except I shouldn’t have bitten you like that. I didn’t mean to break the skin.”

They stay frozen for a minute, looking at each other, gauging reactions. Ben consciously tries to relax his muscles, breathe slower.

“Okay,” he says eventually, with a little huff of air. “Sorry. I don’t know what that was about.”

“It’s okay,” Xander says, but his eyes are frightened. “It’s probably just the drop. I’m sorry too. I should have told you. I didn’t think...”

“No. It’s fine. Thanks. Thank you.” Thank you for arranging medical care for me without even asking if I might have an opinion. Jesus, Xander.

Ben knows about the drop, the inevitable valley of lows after the endorphin peaks during a session. It’s never been particularly tough to deal with the drop before, even if he eventually gets weirded out by how emotional he feels. Usually he goes jogging to shake it off. It’s just a physiological reaction, he knows this. After shooting through the stars, it makes sense he’d feel a little grumpy being stuck back down on earth.

When Xander told him he felt the drop too, Ben didn’t really believe him. Xander always seems composed afterwards; the only difference Ben has noticed is a slight distance sometimes, and his occasional need for time alone, after he makes sure Ben is okay.

Ben hasn’t really thought much about what might happen the next morning after something more intense.

He lies down on the bed again, but he can’t quite bring himself to move close to Xander, not immediately. Xander, his hands tucked up under the pillow like he’s scared to touch, watches his face.

“I shouldn’t have bitten you so hard,” he says.

“Let’s not talk about it right now,” Ben suggests. “It’s making it hurt, having to think about it.” He sees Xander nod out of the corner of his eye. “What cover story are we giving the doctor?”

“No need,” Xander says. “She’s kink-friendly. She knows me.”

“She knows you? Professionally or personally?”

“Both, I guess? She has a private practice, and she’s a Domina, or used to be, anyway. So she knows. About stuff.”

Ben is quiet. These little connections Xander has with another world sometimes make him feel left out. Stupid. Unable to contribute. There’s a voice in the back of his mind, and realizes that it’s Adam. Don’t start thinking there’s anything special there just because he kisses it all better when he’s finished.

“I’m sorry,” Xander says again.

“Stop apologizing. You said you wouldn’t. I’m a big boy, like you, and I can take it.” Ben smiles, hoping it reaches his eyes. “What’s the doctor like?”

Xander hesitates. “She’s kind of mean.”

* * *

In the bathroom, Ben unwraps the bandages slowly, willing himself not to look away. He’s not looking forward to it, but nothing ever got any better by procrastinating. He concentrates his gaze on his shoulder more than his torso, because at least he has a pretty good idea what a bite mark looks like.

The bite is discolored and sore-looking. Sore-feeling. It’s not too deep, and only a few of Xander’s teeth actually punctured the skin.

There are far fewer Band-Aids on his chest than he expected, but he pulls them off carefully. There are only three cuts, none of them very long or particularly deep; the worst stretches maybe two inches at most. Ben stares at them for a while, and at the extended, shallow scratch marks all around them, over the rest of his chest and even down his stomach, that don’t require Band-Aids. He reaches up slowly to touch himself, but his hand hovers over his skin, shaking.

He seizes hold of the counter instead, feeling dizzy and nauseous.

“Are you okay?” Xander is in the doorway, looking concerned.

“I thought,” Ben says, and it’s all he can say before something’s coming out of him. He stumbles over to the toilet and throws up, something milky and frothy and still too sweet. He remembers Xander making him drink hot chocolate before he fell asleep. The incongruity makes his stomach wrench again.

Xander gets him a glass of water afterwards, but Ben won’t take it. He looks accusingly at Xander. “You cut me,” he says.

“Yeah.”

“No, I mean you cut more than this, so what the hell is this?” He gestures at his own body like it’s something external to himself.

“Ben, I can’t – I couldn’t just shred you. I cut some, and I – I made you think I was cutting more.” Xander’s tone, with the shrug he gives, implies that he was doing Ben a favor.

Ben hears a rushing noise in his ears and thinks about Adam. Xan likes to fuck with your mind as much as he does with your body. So be careful.

“Are you going to throw up again?”

“No,” Ben says, his teeth grinding down on each other. “No, I am not going to throw up again.” He sees Xander start to drift backwards, looking cautious. “So, tell me. Does the special dispensation on hitting you extend to this morning?”

Xander takes a deep breath, puts down the glass of water. “If you need it to, okay. Yeah.”

Xander takes another small step backwards, out of the bathroom, and Ben has a flash of the night before. He did hit Xander, panicking, right before Xander told him his safe words. Right before Xander encouraged him to use his safe words. Ben feels his hand ache with the memory.

Xander looks determined to take a punch, but Ben grabs the door instead. They look at each other.

“I need a shower,” Ben says, and slams the door in Xander’s face.

He grabs on to the counter again and waits for the shaking to stop. Hears Xander saying something quietly outside the door, as though he were leaning his head against it.

“Remember to replace the Band-Aids afterwards.”

It’s just the drop, Ben thinks. Just the drop.

* * *

The doctor makes a noise behind her teeth when she sees Ben’s mouth, and again when she removes the gauze bandage over his shoulder. She shoots a dark look at Xander. “This is your work?”

“Yes,” Xander says. He’s flushing mottled red up his neck. Ben insisted he come in with him, although Xander was extremely reticent.

“Were you trying to leave a scar?” the doctor asks, her tone neutral.

Xander shakes his head anxiously.

“Well,” she says, “you’ve been lucky. It shouldn’t scar if you take good care of it. But you’ve broken the skin, which means potential infection with a bite. You should know these things.” She gives a cold stare at Xander, who looks agonized and drops his face into his hands.

“I do know,” he mutters. “I’m sorry.”

Ben looks at the doctor, silently pleading with her to be nicer. Her eyes soften, just a fraction.

But Ben is still poked and prodded and needled, because he can’t remember when he last had a tetanus booster, and he thanks God she doesn’t give him an internal exam, just a quick look and touch at his asshole while his face flames red and Xander looks away, and then Xander is taken aside and given what looks like a Very Annoyed Lecture. Ben overhears Xander saying, “Yes, ma’am,” a few times.

He feels for Xander, although it’s completely bizarre.

Ben gets a prescription for antibiotics and instructions on keeping his shoulder dressing dry and changed regularly. The doctor says little about the other cuts and marks over his body, except a brief, “These are fine. Keep them clean.” Maybe Xander really did do him a favor, Ben admits.

All in all, it’s one of the most surreal experiences Ben has ever had in his life. “I really don’t want to see her again,” he says to Xander as they wait to get his prescription filled.

“Neither do I,” Xander groans.

“We might have to, though. Next time.”

“We will never do something like that again.” Xander looks highly distressed.

Ben takes a quick look around the pharmacy and threads his fingers through Xander’s. “Yeah we will,” he says. “And next time we’ll be better at it. And the doctor will be nicer to you.”

Xander is shaking his head and trying to pull away, but Ben squeezes his hand. “So what are we doing after this?” he asks.

“There’s only one thing we can do,” Xander says.

* * *

“It’s...yeah. I’m not sure how it’s supposed to help?” Ben says doubtfully. They are back in bed with a mountain of chocolate heaped on the nightstand. Xander has worked his way through a quarter of it already. Ben has had one bar and that’s enough for him.

“Endorphins,” Xander says around a mouthful of candy bar. “Chocolate triggers happy feelings. God, I feel awful.”

“Then stop eating so much chocolate,” Ben says sensibly.

“No.”

“Sleep for a while.”

“What will you do?” Xander sounds forlorn.

“Sleep too.”

“I can’t believe I bit you like that.”

“I can’t believe you won’t shut up about it. Seriously, Romano, put down the candy bar and sleep.”

Xander throws his arm over Ben’s chest, avoiding the cuts and bruises as best he can. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“You said no apologies before,” Ben reminds him. “And now you can’t stop.” He pats Xander’s arm awkwardly. His shoulder is aching and his mouth is still sore, but he doesn’t want to mention it. “Stop being a drama queen. It’s okay. It’s better than okay. I promise. Just go to sleep.”

They wake several hours later. Xander has drooled chocolatey drool on Ben’s shoulder, which he wipes off apologetically.

“Are you feeling better?” Ben asks.

“Yeah.” Xander looks more like his usual self, less on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “You?”

“I’m not sure.”

Don’t start thinking there’s anything special there just because he kisses it all better when he’s finished.

Horrifyingly, Ben feels his eyes starting to water. He turns over in the bed, mashes his face into the pillow. It makes his mouth throb and his nose hurt. Xander tries to rub his back and he physically flinches away from his hand.

“Don’t touch me,” he says, and he doesn’t even know if Xander can hear him properly, but the hand is removed immediately. Ben struggles to hold on to the tears. You don’t fucking cry, Ballard, he tells himself. You do not fucking cry.

After a few minutes he rolls back, gingerly pulling the sheets over his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says to Xander. “I just didn’t feel great for a second.”

“It’s okay,” Xander says, but Ben can see he’s upset. “It’s just the drop.” He says it like he’s only trying to convince Ben. He’s an excellent actor.

“I smell like a hospital,” Ben says miserably.

“Would you like to take a bath?”

“Yeah.” It’s the best idea he’s heard all day.

Ben unwinds the gauze from his chest and picks off band-aids, while Xander runs him a bath with stuff in it, which he says will help him relax. It’s fine by Ben, because he’d rather smell like sandalwood and patchouli than latex and antiseptic. He slides in gratefully, careful not to get his shoulder dressing wet. “Where are you going?” he asks, as Xander makes his way to the door.

“You – you want me to stay?” Xander asks awkwardly. Ben nods. “Okay.” Xander throws some towels down and kneels on the floor. He crosses his arms on the side of the bath and looks at Ben. “This part tends to suck,” he says. “The drop.”

“Why is it like this? It’s never been this bad before.”

“We’ve never done something like that before. And you were really far gone last night,” Xander shrugs. His eyes look far away, like he’s remembering something.

Ben splashes his face with the water, his lip stinging. “Did I say anything? Poetry things?”

“No.” Xander trails his fingers in the water. Finally, he adds, “I don’t think you could. You were past that.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Ben asks. Xander looks like he doesn’t want to answer the question, so Ben adds pre-emptively, “Honesty Policy.”

“Yes.”

“A lot?”

“More than a lot. Not so much now, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We don’t ever have to do anything like that again.”

“No,” Ben says. “That’s not what I mean.” They look at each other, sadly. He pulls Xander’s arm towards him, rolls up his sleeve. “Wash me?” he asks. Puts a cloth in Xander’s hand and settles back against the cool ceramic.

Xander is tentative at first, but it feels good. The hospital smell goes away and Ben finds the horrible tight feeling in his chest relaxing. “It was intense,” he says after a while.

“Yes,” Xander says fervently. “Can you sit up? I’ll do your back.”

Ben bends forward, his arms wrapped around his knees. He hears Xander’s sharp intake of breath and asks, “What?”

“Your back. It’s...bruised.” He’s extra gentle with the washcloth, but Ben thinks it probably looks worse than it feels.

The repetitive, soothing warmth on his back is almost hypnotic. So is Xander’s breathing, which has increased in frequency.

“I think I need to sleep again,” Ben says after a while. Xander helps him out of the bath and dries him carefully, pretending to be clinical about it. Ben tactfully ignores Xander’s erection.

Xander wants to put Neosporin on the cuts and scratches and something on his back too, but Ben refuses vociferously. Xander gives in, but insists on more Band-Aids and bandages. He dresses Ben in flannel pajamas, and Ben feels like he’s about five years old, but he’s not complaining.

He’s on the verge of tears again before sleep overcomes him.

* * *

The next time he wakes up, Xander isn’t there, and it’s dark outside.

Don’t start thinking there’s anything special there just because he kisses it all better when he’s finished.

Ben sits bolt upright, ignoring the pains, and calls him. Again, louder, and there he is, appearing in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” Ben spits.

“Watching TV,” Xander says, sounding breathless. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you up.” He comes over to the bed and sits next to Ben, but doesn’t make a move towards him. Ben looks at him, and his vision blurs.

He gropes towards Xander, who immediately hugs him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Xander says, his voice tight. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to touch you.” His hands are pulling too much across Ben’s back, making it ache, but Ben just hugs harder in return.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes.” He pulls Xander down on the bed with him.

Don’t start thinking there’s anything special there.

“What’s going on in there?” Xander asks, kissing his forehead after he’s rearranged them to a more comfortable position. Just because he kisses it all better when he’s finished.

Ben is shivering, pulling Xander’s arms and legs over him, ignoring all the pains.

“You said you thought you loved me,” Ben says before he can stop himself, and his tone is anguished even to his own ears. He’s shaking as though he’s freezing. Xander pulls the blanket around him, tight as a burrito.

“Yeah,” Xander breathes. “Yeah. I do.”

“No. You said you thought you did.”

“I do. Jesus Christ. I don’t have to think about it.”

“Adam said – I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t get it out of my head. I feel like I’m going fucking crazy.”

“What did he say?” Ben feels his heart breaking at the tone in Xander’s voice. “Tell me. What?”

Ben can barely whisper it, and Xander has to put his ear close to his mouth. Ben says it again. He can feel Xander’s whole body go rigid.

His fingers dig into Ben’s back, making him gasp at the hurt, but at least it’s real, at least it’s not that voice in his head. “Don’t you ever think that about me, about us, about this. Please.” Xander sounds like he wants to murder someone, until his voice cracks on the last word.

“Tell me,” Ben begs.

“I love you. I love you.” Xander kisses him all over his face, telling him in between kisses like a benediction.

But after a while, Ben feels him tense up slowly as he thinks things over. Xander asks, “Why didn’t you tell me before, when I asked if there was anything I should know? Before all this? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were thinking about Adam?”

“Because I – I didn’t want to hurt you. Because I love you.”

* * *

On the second day, Xander brings Ben breakfast in bed as though he’s an invalid. Ben eats the toast carefully, trying to avoid the side of his mouth with the cut. Xander’s face looks better, and so does Ben’s chest. The bite is still clean and healing up, but it itches. Xander slaps Ben’s hand away when he absent-mindedly tries to scratch.

“What are we doing today?” Ben asks. “No doctors, right?”

“No way.” Xander’s eyes go big. “Today we can do nice stuff. Like read. Do crosswords. Watch television.”

“Did you suddenly turn eighty while I was asleep?”

“No. I did spend a couple of hours regurgitating chocolate while you were asleep.”

“Yeah, you kind of went to town there,” Ben nods.

“Look, I’m sorry I –”

“Don’t,” Ben says immediately. “Don’t apologize for anything. I’m sorry I freaked out yesterday. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what you needed to know, before. I won’t do that again. Next time, I’ll tell you everything.”

Xander looks unconvinced, but just nods. Ben watches him when he’s not looking, thinking about the difference between this Xander and – the other Xander.

He forks desultorily through his eggs.

“Would you prefer something else?” Xander asks politely. Ben shrugs, winces at the pain in his shoulder.

“Are Henry and Noah back yet?”

“No, they’re still with Joe.”

“Oh.” Ben raises a forkful of food and chews it, trying to look enthusiastic about eating. “Can they – can they come back today?”

Xander says, “Um. I guess.”

“I’d like that.”

“It means Joe would see…” Xander trails off, and Ben ignores him. “Okay. I’ll call him.”

Joe comes over mid-morning, on the way to a shoot, and looks horrified at the sight of them. “Jesus fuck, guys,” he says. “What the shit?”

“It’s not like that,” Xander sighs, rubbing his face gingerly.

Joe looks at Ben.

“It’s really not,” Ben agrees.

Joe rearranges his facial expression. “As long as you hugged it out after,” he says. “Looks like you came off worse, Xander. Nice work, Ballard.”

Ben grins; he can’t help himself. Xander scowls, but he’s too busy petting a joyful Noah to retaliate. Joe lets Henry out of the carry cage and the cat runs to his favorite window. Joe doesn’t hang around long, sending out I really don’t want to know vibes while he’s there, and all the way down the stairs after himself when he leaves.

Ben watches Xander play with Noah, who can barely control his excitement at being home again. Watches Xander’s hands, ruffling fur and tumbling the dog around until he’s barking in excitement. Watches Xander’s face, lit up with laughter.

Ben breathes out, feels his lungs relaxing, and his muscles. He lies down on the couch, facing the ceiling, his hands under his head. Henry chooses this time to allow some human contact, and jumps onto his chest. Ben can’t stop his yelp, even as he clutches Henry closer.

“Henry!” Xander snaps. “Off!”

“No, it’s fine. Hi, little guy,” Ben says to the cat, stroking him. “Welcome home.”

“He - he hurt you.”

“He didn’t mean it,” Ben says softly.

Xander looks down, scratches a chocolate stain off his jeans. “And what if he did mean it?” he asks slowly, gently threading his other hand through Noah’s fur. “What then?”

Ben smiles. “That would be fine, too. It’s just in his nature.”

When Xander looks back up with an expression of hope, Ben feels his heart jump. “What did I tell you?” he asks Xander.

“I don’t know, what did you tell me?”

“That I love you, you moron.”

Xander laughs in surprise, blinks bright eyes, and rubs at them with the heel of his hand. After a second, he asks, “Did you steal that line from a Shakespearean sonnet?”

“Ignoramus. It’s Walt Whitman.”

“I could actually believe that,” Xander says. His eyes are still too bright. He pats Noah’s side, pulls him close. “I love you, too, Benjamin.”

Next

Loved by Him

Ben Ballard has found his balance again after a difficult few days. Even better, he knows he has a boyfriend who loves him, a career that’s finally starting to go places, and a family that accepts him for who he is.

The only problem? Said boyfriend, Xander Romano, has to move across the country to New York for work, while Ben is stuck in LA.

And on top of all that, Xander’s poisonous ex turns up at his going away party…

Will Ben and Xander be able to make sure their love sticks, even from opposite sides of a continent?

Loved by Him is the fifth part of the Rough Love serial. Join Ben and Xander in their continuing odyssey of self-discovery, experimentation, and steamy fun as they work out the kinks together. Never fear - these two will get their HEA. It'll just take them some time to figure out what that happy ending looks like for them...

Read on right now.

Also by the Author

Writing as L J Greene:

Incubus

Oh, what a tangled web we weave...

Coleridge Fox has a liar for a lover, a gambling debt he can't pay, and his screenwriting career is D.O.A.

He thought the Incubus, a serial killer hunting in Hollywood's back streets, was the least of his worries, but now he's starting to wonder.

Cole fell for the suave Leo Mancini the day they met, but is it ever really possible to trust a liar--especially when Mancini makes a murder suggestion sound like a marriage proposal?

Set in 1956 Los Angeles, Incubus is a standalone novel and is intended for mature readers who enjoy the darkness and moral ambiguity of noir stories.

It is dark, twisted, and not for the faint of heart.

* * *

Obedience School: Series 1

Containing all three parts of the puppy play Obedience School Series One: House Trained, Howl and Unleashed. Join Drew and Zack as they go from gentle puppy play to joining a group for strict human-pup training. Zack loves to learn his place, whether it's at Drew's side or at the foot of the bed!

* * *

Tasting Menu: A Compilation

Enjoy a taste of everything in this buffet bundle. What's your favorite flavor?

DOCKED

Noah has a thick, uncut gift he likes to boast about. And he can do something special with it that no cut guy ever could.

Liam is straight, but oh-so-curious: can Noah really do what he says he can?

LOOSE

Patient Dominant Nick has had enough of his bratty sub Sam's flirty attitude towards other men when they're out together. He decides to teach his loose sub a lesson Sam won't ever forget.

By the end of the night, Nick will claim and tame this wild sub!

MEN'S CORSETRY

Ben Carter works in his family's high-end men's fashion store, even though he's not what you'd call fashion-forward. Maxwell Black, his co-worker, is hipper, hotter and haute-ier; he's even into the new fashion line featuring corsets for men.

Ben recklessly agrees to try on a corset—just for a day—but discovers he doesn't hate it as much as he thought he would! Together, Ben and Max begin to explore the wild world of Men's Corsetry...and each other.

* * *

The Nobleman’s Story: Gay Concubines Series One

Lord Alexandre has pledged to the male concubine Valentin, despite his unfashionably large dimensions. Grateful Valentin is only too pleased to do anything in his power to increase the nobleman's pleasure, and has agreed to wear a device designed to reduce his size and keep him tame for his lord. Join Alexandre and Valentin as they indulge their appetites, their proclivities and their ambitions...

* * *

Writing as Leighton Greene:

Hard Hats and Hollywood (Novella)

Tavian doesn’t know how lucky he is…but he’s about to find out.

After winning a role in an independent film, up-and-coming actor Tavian Bianchi decides to go Method to get into his character’s headspace, and takes a gig with his uncle’s construction crew. That’s where he meets Frowny McBlue, aka Asher Sullivan, a working class guy with an incredible body, sparkling blue eyes...and an attitude problem.

From the moment they meet, Tavian seems to annoy the prickly Ash. But Tavian soon discovers that Ash’s hard exterior hides a heart of gold, and a lonely existence. By day Ash works the tower crane, and by night he shuts himself away from the world in his tiny apartment.

Tavian and Ash begin a hot affair that spills over into the workplace. Not everyone is happy to see them together, but Tavian has enough on his hands just convincing Ash to give him a chance!

Can Tavian persuade Ash to break down the walls he’s built up over the years?

Can Ash let go of the chip on his shoulder?

Or will class conflict get in the way of true love?

Find out in this sexy romance novella when opposites attract.

* * *

Electric Blue!: A M/M Superhero Romance (Novella)

What would you do if you found out your best friend was LA's hottest superhero?

What would you do if you'd been in love with that best friend for years?

Zayne Williams fell for Chris Mitchell the moment they met, but Chris has always held him at arm’s length. Today, Zayne found out why.

Chris has a secret alter-ego: he’s Electric Blue, Los Angles’ greatest superhero! But he swore to keep his identity secret, because he knows how dangerous it can be when a villain finds out who you really are. And falling in love? Is a danger Chris doesn’t want to face…

But Zayne is determined to become Electric Blue’s sidekick, and work among a group of not-so-super heroes. Will Zayne convince Chris that he needs a sidekick, and even better, a boyfriend?

Can Chris protect Zayne from villains who’d kill him just to get to Electric Blue?

And will both of them be able to survive the SHADOWY SUPERVILLAIN rising in Los Angeles?

TUNE IN TO FIND OUT!