Break the Rules (Rough Love Book 7)

by Leighton Greene

  “I…” Xander looks helpless, so Ben kneels up in the bed and straddles him. Xander swallows, and says, “That works. For a start.” He slides his hands up Ben’s thighs, cups his ass and pulls him closer.

  “You know how I like to remember you?” Ben asks, nuzzling into his neck. “Before we even do anything. When I see your mind ticking over, working out something. Making it safe and making it magical. And then during. When I can see your concentration, even while you’re hitting me or biting me or caning me—you’re so hot for me but you do everything you can to make it good for me. And afterwards. When you’re trying to make me eat chocolate and you can’t keep to your own side of the bed and you do this gentle snore thing when you’re falling asleep—”

  “I don’t snore!” Xander is outraged, but laughing.

  “Oh, but you do. A cute little snuffle thing just when you’re dropping off.”

  Xander growls, and tumbles them until he’s on top, and Ben is snickering and Xander is trying to look annoyed, but his twitching lips give him away. “You know what I think?”

  “What do you think, Xander?”

  “I think you need a good spanking.”

  “I think you might be right.”

  Ben hesitates one second longer. “Xander, don’t take this the wrong way, but, uh, should we use rubbers? I haven’t…there’s been no one for me since we broke up. But if you—”

  “Benjamin,” Xander says softly. “Of course I haven’t been with anyone else.”

  Finally the stars must be aligned for them, because it’s perfect. It’s fun, it’s playful, and Ben hasn’t felt so happy for a very long time. Xander takes his time warming Ben up, and the spanking is gentle, making his ass tingle into sensitivity before they’re wrapped up hard against each other face to face and Xander is fucking into him.

  “Hold me down,” Ben begs, and Xander obliges, his hands sure and certain. “And remember you said I could watch.”

  “You would never let me forget it,” Xander pants. When he’s close, he tells Ben. Ben ignores his own body for a moment while he watches the way Xander’s face goes perfectly still just before he loses himself, the way his teeth flash just before he bites.

  Afterwards, they lie in a tangled heap, sweaty and sticky and hot, and wait for their breathing to slow down.

  “I need to shower,” Xander yawns. “And I have to get back to Joe’s, pick up my stuff.” He lifts a head, looks at the clock. “I don’t have long before I need to be at the airport.”

  Ben grunts. He’s still in post-coital bliss. He feels Xander’s hand creep into his own and squeeze his fingers.

  “You want to shower with me?”

  It’s the last time he’ll be able to have Xander wet and naked for a while. Maybe forever. So Ben shakes off the afterglow and follows him to the shower, where they wash each other for much longer than necessary and spend a lot of time kissing up against the corner. Eventually the water runs cold.

  “Can I—” Xander holds a towel towards Ben, tentative.

  “Yes.” Yes, you can dry me off. You can take care of me.

  Once they’re both dry, they look at each other in the mirror. Xander looks sad, but he smiles. “I’d better get moving.”

  “Wait.” Ben opens the bathroom cabinet, scrabbles inside. It’s still there. He brings it out and holds it out to Xander.

  “The sharpie?”

  “The sharpie.”

  “I don’t know if—”

  “If you don’t, I’ll do it myself, because it’s one habit I haven’t been able to break. But I’d prefer you to do it. If you want to. I mean, I don’t want to push you—oh, God, sorry, did I just—”

  Xander takes it from him. “Of course I want to. I’m just not sure why you want to.”

  Ben shrugs. “You have your tattoo. I need something to hold on to as well. A reminder.”

  Xander’s hand in the small of his back makes Ben’s heartbeat accelerate, but the familiar feeling of the sharpie on his flesh leaves him content. Xander blows gently on it to make sure it’s set before kissing it.

  They hug, hard and long, just before Xander leaves.

  “Goodbye, Benjamin.”

  “Goodbye, my Icy Bear.” He says it into Xander’s neck, his lips scratching against stubble. Xander trembles slightly. “Good luck in therapy.”

  “Thank you. I’ll need it.”

  “Keep in touch.”

  It’s a terrible last line, but Ben can’t think of anything else to say.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “So you broke up again?” Katy pauses, her forkful of salad hovering over the plate. She looks worried. They’re catching lunch together at a local place. Ben called her up to initiate, since he hasn’t seen her for a while.

  Katy sounded so happy to hear from him that it made his eyes tear up on the phone. Not that he ever cries.

  “Sort of,” he says now. “We’re not together, but we’re not not together.”

  Katy replaces the fork in the bowl and dabs her mouth with the napkin. “You don’t seem as cut up as I thought you’d be.” Her overly-casual tone is beginning to get on Ben’s nerves.

  “We’re working some stuff out apart.”

  “Alright. If that’s what you think is best.”

  “It is.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “Katy—”

  “Look, this is me, getting my nose out of your business.” Katy pushes in the end of her nose and makes a face at him. He laughs.

  “We’re giving it a few months. Xander has a lot of issues. And so do I.”

  “Tell me about it.” She grins, and picks up her fork again. “But anytime you want to talk, give me a call.”

  “I will. Can we eat in peace, now?”

  Katy innocently chews up a long leaf of arugula.

  “Seriously, though,” she says over dessert, “I’m proud of you. Being all emotionally healthy and stuff.”

  “Is that a technical term?”

  “It is. Look it up in the New Dictionary of Psychology, under E. Between Dissociation and Freud.” She smiles at Ben’s snort.

  Ben sips his iced coffee and wonders how to broach the topic. If he even should. “So, say one of your patients—”

  “Clients.”

  “Whatever. One of your sanity-seekers came in and said he—said she liked being hurt during sex. What would you say?”

  Katy eyes her raspberry cheesecake. “This could do with more whipped cream on the side. I guess I’d make sure it was consensual, and then ask if he—she—felt like it was an issue.”

  “And if she didn’t?”

  She shrugs. “Those kinds of relationships can be tricky, from what I hear, but not impossible. I’m not a specialist in the area, but I see people sometimes who are into that. Things can get mixed up. But everyone has issues. Every relationship has issues. As long as something makes you—I mean, her—happy, and really happy, healthy happy, and it’s a consensual relationship with another adult, why not?” She pops another mouthful of cheesecake and sucks the fork. “‘S’good. Wanna try?”

  Ben shakes his head. “I’ve got my cookie thing.”

  “Omigod, those are so good, right? I think they use crack as the main ingredient. They’re addictive.”

  “They’re pretty good. So you don’t think it’s a mental illness? Or—crazy?”

  “No, I seriously think it’s crack.”

  “Not the cookie.”

  “Oh, right. The kink stuff? Nah.” She steals a fallen chunk from Ben’s plate.

  He yanks the plate out of her reach. “Hey! You picked cheesecake, you stick with cheesecake!”

  She grins wickedly, and closes her eyes to savor. “Why are you asking?” she asks, once she’s opened her eyes again.

  “Research. Um. For a script.”

  She nods. “So, just a suggestion, brother of mine—it’s cool that we can talk, but you might not wanna question just anyone about that whole kink thing. Anyone else close to us, if you
know what I mean.” She rolls her eyes at his confusion. “Mom, you moron. Don’t go asking her professional opinion on sexy spankings or anything.”

  Ben chokes on his coffee.

  Katy nods sagely. “Yeah, it might get a bit Oedipal. There are just some things a mother doesn’t need to know.”

  “Jesus, Katy! I do have some impulse control.”

  “Do you?” she asks archly. “I’ve never seen you exercise it.”

  Ben looks at her thoughtfully. “Thanks for the criticism.”

  Ben has been hired as a script-doctor for a superhero blockbuster, which means he spends a lot of time alone tweaking dialogue and exposition. He’s not exactly lonely, since he’s so busy, but since he tends to work late into the night, he finds his mind wandering to Xander. Ben hasn’t been able to catch the last few episodes of The Hunter but it would be impossible, living in LA, not to hear the buzz about it. The Normal Heart, the play Xander is in, has also opened to rave reviews, and even though Xander only has a supporting role, the critics have praised his performance.

  On this particular afternoon, Ben has just come back from a run and is about to shower when his cell rings. He checks the name, and feels his heart seize. Xander.

  It’s not that they agreed not to call each other. In fact, they agreed that they should call, if they wanted to talk about anything, just not too often. But as it turned out, they’ve stuck to emails and the occasional text.

  “Hey.” Ben is relieved to hear that his voice makes it past the heart in his mouth.

  “Hey. It’s me.”

  “Yeah. I know.” He pauses. “How are you?”

  Xander clears his throat. “Things are good. Busy. You?”

  “Same. I’m working on this superhero movie, tweaking the dialogue, and they’re gonna let me direct the second-unit stuff. Ramona’s so proud she got me the job. The director’s one of her contacts—you know her?” He names the director and Xander makes a noise of approval.

  “Yeah, I’ve met her a few times. She’s very cool.”

  “Cooler than you?”

  Xander laughs. “No one’s cooler than me. So, hey, I was wondering.” He’s nervous. “You know I’m doing this play—”

  “Hell, yes, you’re killing it! Congratulations, Xander. I’m really proud of you.” Ben has been bookmarking the reviews, feeling his heart swell every time he re-reads how amazing Xander’s performance has been.

  There’s a scuffling noise, like Xander has dropped the phone.

  “Hey, can you hear me? Are you there?” Ben asks anxiously.

  “Yeah. Look, I was calling to tell you I have tickets to the play, if you want,” Xander says in a rush. “For you. And a guest if you’re, I don’t know, if you’re seeing someone or Ramona wants you to bring a date, or—”

  “You got me tickets?”

  Xander laughs, but it’s not his usual laugh. “Of course I got you tickets. But I understand if you’re busy or something.” He names the date, and Ben checks his calendar.

  “I think I could do that; I have some time off around then. Maybe Katy could come. She loves New York.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Good, thanks. I…you know. I really want you to see it.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Maybe we could catch up after. I mean, if you want. I don’t want to make you feel…”

  Ben takes a breath. “Yeah. Of course we should do that. I mean, there’s no point me coming to New York to see your play and then not catching up. We could do dinner or something.”

  “Yeah. Dinner.”

  Ben casts around wildly for something to say apart from goodbye. “How’s therapy?” There’s no response. “Sorry. I shouldn’t—”

  “It’s going well. I go to three sessions a week.”

  “Three?” Ben is a little shocked. “Dude. Isn’t that a little excessive?”

  Xander laughs again, but it’s easy and natural. “Maybe. But I’m a little excessive. It’s going well. I actually made some breakthroughs. I’m doing a lot better.”

  “When do you even get time to go to three sessions?”

  “I make time. It’s important.”

  Ben can’t argue with that. “I started seeing a therapist too. But just every two weeks or so. Your Doctor recommended her.”

  “Ah.” Ben tries to place the tone. Surprise? Caution? “Well, good. Is it helping?”

  Ben’s therapist is an older woman, plump and friendly and motherly, which Ben thought at first might make things difficult. After all, Katy was right: there are some things that mothers don’t need to know. But Suzanne is only motherly when she needs to be, and Ben, during the time he’s been seeing her, has detailed almost everything he and Xander have been through. She gives him exercises to do and cognitive behavioral techniques to use and explains Jungian concepts whenever he asks about them. She has no problems at all with sadomasochism, unless it’s causing issues for the participants.

  Ben loves her.

  “Yes, it’s helping,” Ben says fervently. “Just knowing that there are people in the world who don’t think I’m completely fucked in the head for what I like—it’s a big help. It’s nice to feel accepted. I’m a lot calmer about things these days.”

  There’s that scuffling noise again. And then Xander says, “I owe you an apology. I should have made sure you had people to talk to about that—people other than me.”

  Ben swallows. “Well, yeah. You should have.”

  “I was being selfish.”

  “Maybe, but I should have pushed more, too.”

  “I should have—”

  “It’s okay. I forgive you. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You get it now.”

  “Yeah. I get it now.”

  Ben doesn’t know what else to say, but apparently neither does Xander, and they spend a few seconds in silence.

  “I guess I should go,” Xander says eventually. “I’ll email the tickets to you. Thank you for taking my call.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Ben chuckles. “You can call any time, you know that.”

  By the time he arrives in New York, Ben has taken the time to grow his beard out during his time off, so he won’t be immediately recognizable. The last thing he and Xander need is for TMZ to run a speculative story about them getting back together. Katy, wearing a chic black dress and coat, rolls her eyes at his baseball cap and hoodie, both pulled forward over his face.

  “I almost bought colored contacts as well,” he confides to her. “But I thought—”

  “Ridiculous?”

  “No.” He’s annoyed. She’s using that Big Sister tone of voice that immediately makes him nine years old again, in awe of his beautiful, popular, teenage sibling. “They weren’t flexible like normal contacts. Hurt too much to put them in. I kept poking myself in the eye.”

  “We’re not CIA agents.”

  “I just don’t want to be noticed.”

  “Well, mission accomplished. You look godawful. You sure you want Xander seeing you like this?”

  It stings enough that he takes some time to trim down his beard a little.

  Parts of The Normal Heart, and parts of Xander’s performance as a gay man who doesn’t want the world to know what he is—who he is—remind Ben of some things that went down between them. So it hurts, but it also feels like an apology, a personal apology meant just for him, which he’s more than willing to accept. These aren’t just hollow words. They mean something.

  After the show is over, they melt away into the streets, avoiding glances from other patrons and walking rapidly away from the theater. Katy only makes one acerbic comment about running in heels from phantom photographers. Still, he makes her come the long way round to the diner that Xander named as a meeting point.

  Xander is already waiting for them by the time they get there, his stage make-up quickly removed, so his eyes are still smudged with kohl. He stands up and kisses Katy when they arrive at the table, then hugs her and looks over her head at Ben. His black-rimmed eyes ar
e dark and serious for a moment, and then he breaks into a smile. “Good to see you both.”

  “Long time,” Katy says into his chest, muffled. She pushes him away gently, and Xander lets go of her in surprise, as though he’s forgotten about her. “Are we going to sit down?”

  Ben pulls down his hoodie and takes off his hat. They sit, and exchange pleasantries about the weather, traffic, the plane ride over, the hotel they’re staying at—”Hotel Noir? Really?” Xander asks.

  “Can’t keep him away,” Katy shrugs. “It’s his favorite hotel in New York, apparently.”

  Xander gives Ben an appraising look and Ben feels himself flushing hot pink under his gaze. “It’s a nice hotel,” he says defensively.

  “You ready to order?” is all that Xander says.

  “Actually, guys, I’m going to leave you to it.” Katy stands, and starts putting on her gloves, scarf.

  “What? But—”

  “I could pretend to have a hot date,” she says, “but I really just think you two need to talk. I’ll see you back at the hotel, Ben. Xander—incredible performance.” She smiles brightly and leaves.

  “Traitor,” Ben mumbles, and turns back to see Xander staring at his menu with a half-smile.

  “Your sister is smart.”

  “She’s wily, you mean. Cunning. But she’s right, that was an incredible performance. I mean, you’re always good, but that was—”

  “You’re all scruffy.” Xander waves his hand vaguely at his face.

  “It was supposed to be a disguise. It was this or Groucho glasses.”

  “I like it. You always looked good like that. Outdoorsy, especially with all the plaid. Like a lumberjack or something.”

  Ben, who is wearing a plaid shirt under his hoodie, starts to wish he’d worn something different.

  Xander smiles at the menu again. “I think I’m going to have a panini. You?”

  “Sounds good. That one with the salami.”

  “I’ll go order.” Ben tries to give him some money, but Xander shakes his head. “I’ve got it.”