Break the Rules (Rough Love Book 7)

by Leighton Greene

  “Same,” Ben says, all his eloquence having deserted him. But he’s too caught up in Xander’s kisses to care about vocabulary.

  Ben leaves soon after, once the night has come in, and later he barely remembers what he and Xander said to each other in the doorway, but it was full of promises and declarations and love.

  Xander leaves again for New York, but he’ll be back for good soon, so soon, and Ben starts to get desperate. He still can’t figure out his limits, even just a made-up one to give the relationship some guidelines, and if he doesn’t, Xander might never fuck him again.

  Logically, he knows that’s unlikely. But he’s not thinking all that logically these days.

  As he says to Suzanne during a session, he might have limits and boundaries with other people—in fact, he listed them off without a second thought to Byron and Jake—but he still doesn’t feel like there’s anything Xander would want to do that Ben wouldn’t let him at least try. “Even the gross stuff,” he adds, scrunching up his nose. “Although he’s never been interested in, you know, watersports or…” He pulls his socked feet up underneath him on the sofa, nervous, but Suzanne is as unflappable as ever.

  “Perhaps you’re thinking about it the wrong way. You’re thinking of individual acts, but maybe you should think bigger-picture. What is it that you get out of these acts? What’s the unifying theme between them?”

  Ben thinks hard, but he still doesn’t understand. “Nothing, really, and the problem is, it depends on context too, because although I stopped him with the asphyxiation, I…” He takes a deep breath. “I might still want to do it in other circumstances.”

  Suzanne puts down her pad and pencil and smiles at him. “What is masochism, Ben? What do you think it is?”

  He shrugs helplessly. “Pain? Feeling? Suffering?”

  “By its very definition, masochism is the pursuit of pleasure, isn’t it? It feels good to you, so you do it.”

  And with that, everything slots neatly into place for Ben, like Tetris blocks turning and aligning perfectly.

  “Holy hell,” he says. “I get it.” Suzanne lifts her eyebrows expectantly. “I know where my limit is.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It’s weird being back at Xander’s old place, with Noah and Henry resettling themselves, and boxes still strewn around the lounge room, half unpacked. Xander has been back in LA only a day or two, and Ben has come round for an impromptu house re-warming.

  Xander looked dusty and tired when he opened the door, but he still hugged as hard as ever, and Ben chanced a kiss before they pulled away. He’s sitting on the sofa now, watching Xander unwrap photo frames and replace them on the side table. They talk about their new projects, about how much Xander thinks he won’t miss New York, how much has missed LA.

  Eventually, Xander tires of unpacking and gets them both a beer. The conversation dies, and Ben figures it’s time.

  “I need to talk to you about some things.”

  “Okay.” Xander puts on his polite face and sits up.

  “Limit things.”

  “Oh.” Now he’s nervous. Ben is nervous, too, though. He fishes in his bag for the journal.

  “That again?” Xander raises his eyebrows.

  “Yes, that again. You can keep it, this time, when we’re done. You said you needed some guidelines, so—here. I worked on some stuff, with Suzanne. This is a list of—they’re not exactly limits, not all of them, but these are things that I need. From a relationship. With you.”

  Xander puts down his beer and opens the journal. “You really like your lists, Ballard.” He smiles and reads the first item out loud. “‘You have to let me watch you come, not often, but sometimes.’ You worked on this with your therapist?”

  Ben colors. “Not the exact wording. Jesus. Can you just—”

  Xander grins, and Ben has the sudden urge to stick out his tongue.

  “Next: ‘You need to let me fuck you, not often, but sometimes. And sometimes I might want you to sub for me.’ Hm.”

  Ben interrupts. “Like it says, not often, and not necessarily pain stuff. We’ll agree on exactly what we’ll do beforehand and I promise, I swear to God, I won’t push beyond that.” Xander says nothing, just looks at him. “I’m not going to fuck up again, and besides, you already said you could do that for me, a while back. And these things on the list, they’re…they’re non-negotiable.” Ben tries really hard to sound confident instead of apologetic, but he knows he’s babbling.

  “Did I say anything? I’m just thinking.”

  “You’d better be thinking, ‘That’s absolutely fine, Benjamin.’”

  Xander rolls his eyes and looks down at the list again, reads the next item silently. He starts laughing. “Seriously? I thought you were starting to come around.”

  “Seriously. You know I hate it.”

  “But that’s what makes it so fun!”

  “No. More. Chai.” Ben is not kidding around. He could happily go the rest of his life without tasting that combination of spices again.

  “Noted. Next: ‘We need to discuss new things more before we do them.’ No argument from me there.”

  “Yeah, you were right about that. I should have listened to you. Voice of experience and all.”

  Xander looks surprised, but keeps reading. “‘You need to be more—’” He pauses, looks up. “You don’t think I’m open with you?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “I offered to let you read my journal.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. Why are you upset?”

  Xander bites his lip. “I feel like I’m a lot more open about things with you than I have been before, with other people. I thought that maybe that, at least, I was getting right.” He’s frustrated, Ben realizes, rather than sad.

  “You’re more open than you were,” Ben agrees. “But you bottle things up, Xander, and you don’t talk to me about some things that you know you should. Like Blood Bond—if you’d told me you were feeling overwhelmed with all the questions I was asking, I would’ve backed off.”

  “I wanted to help,” Xander says weakly. But then he nods. “You’re right, though. Sometimes I feel like I’ve wrapped myself up in so many layers of protection that I get confused about when it’s okay to just be me.”

  “Then strip away some of the layers, Xander.” Ben smiles at him. “You can’t just push things down and pretend. It’ll just screw everything up again otherwise.”

  Xander looks up at him, and Ben is startled by the intensity of his gaze, the twist of fear in his mouth. “I want to. Really. But I get worried. I think that if I’m not agreeable, you’ll get tired of me and…”

  Ben gives a small, internal sigh. “Hey, Dark Xander, look at the next item on the list.”

  “‘You need to stop thinking I’m going to dump you, and you need to stop second-guessing me.’ Oh. Wait, what do you mean, second-guessing?”

  “I’m tired of you acting like this is just a phase I’m going through.” It’s kind of harsh to say it so bluntly like that, but it’s true. “Just because you’re the first guy I’ve been with and just because I never knew I liked—the stuff we do, whatever we want to call it—I know now, and that’s not going to suddenly change back. I mean, come on, Xander. If you don’t believe me when I tell you I love you, it makes me feel like you think I’m a liar.”

  Xander is aghast at that. “I don’t think you’re lying, I just—”

  “You just don’t think you’re worthy of being loved.”

  Xander flinches, and stares at the list again, unseeing. Ben waits. He has endless amounts of patience for Xander sometimes, but the insecurity has to stop.

  “You might be right,” Xander says at last. “And I’ll work on that. I do know you love me, but sometimes there’s this voice in my head—I guess you’re right, it’s Dark Xander. Sometimes I still think I’m wrong inside. Warped. I have it more under control now, the Shadow stuff, but still…”

  “You used to have a lot more
self-acceptance, ages ago, before we got together.”

  Xander snorts, pain in his eyes. “Or acted like it, anyway. I’ll try to do better with the insecurity thing. It must be getting old.”

  Damn straight, Ben thinks, but he just nods. “It’ll all be okay in the end. You’ll manage to strip away all those layers of yourself and really transform.” Xander is determined, Ben can see; his jaw tightens, and his hand unconsciously clutches at the journal.

  “Thanks,” he says, his voice husky. He looks back at the list. “‘We need to connect with others in the community.’”

  Ben twists his fingers together. He’s not sure what Xander will think about this one.

  Xander looks up at him. “I agree,” he says quietly. “I’ve been talking to the Doctor about that, actually.”

  Ben’s eyebrows lift up. “You have?” At Xander’s nod, he asks, “What’s her first name, by the way?”

  “Ah,” says Xander with a smile. “That knowledge, Benjamin, is something you have to work for. So, that’s everything on the list?”

  “Everything for now.”

  Xander opens his mouth and closes it again, and Ben can tell he’s trying to word something correctly. “There’s not really anything here about the sex stuff. Limits. Boundaries.”

  Ben settles back in his chair. “My limit is simple, and I bet it’s the same as yours.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Ben nods. “Everything we do has to be because we love each other. Never for payback. Never to get even. And it has to be fun, even when it’s intense. It has to be pleasurable and enjoyable for both of us. And if you aren’t enjoying it, or if I’m not, we stop.”

  There’s silence between them and Xander is frozen for a moment before putting the book down and dropping his head into his hands, covering his eyes. Ben is worried for a moment, thinks he’s crying again, but then Xander laughs.

  “I am such a fucking dumbass,” he says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re right. I forgot the fundamentals of it.” He looks up, still chuckling. “There’s a reason we call it play, right? I forgot about that.”

  “I’ll make sure you remember in future.”

  “Please do. Did you…did you want to keep any of the old rules?”

  Ben hesitates. “I liked some of them, yeah. I just didn’t know if you’d think…”

  “Paul liked some of them, too. He though showing appropriate self-interest was good, because it forces us both to be more mindful of our actions.”

  “That was never an official rule.”

  “You are so pedantic. Okay, he also thought the Honesty Policy was a great idea in theory, although he said we should probably extend it from just asking questions. More like it was when we first started it.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Like…” Xander waves his hands around. “We should be honest as a default position. He said that instead of just using it as a means to get to the truth, we could use it as a means to give the truth. So, for example, Honesty Policy: I really want to blow you right now, but I understand that we’re supposed to be trying to talk about things.”

  Ben feels his heart contract and his cock jump. “Honesty Policy: Seriously? Because I’m not opposed to taking a break from talking.”

  “Honesty Policy: Seriously. But what if I’m doing this as a diversionary tactic?”

  “Honesty Policy: that’s okay. I’ll keep us on track afterwards—fuck. Xander, wait, you need to actually unbutton my jeans before you try to pull them—ow!”

  “Sorry.”

  “You don’t sound sorry.”

  “Well, lift your damn hips and help me—okay.”

  “Could you give me a second, just—alright, I get it, you’re impatient, fine, go ahead.” Ben laughs, delighted, as Xander swallows him down, still half-soft, and pulls at his thighs to drag him further down the sofa. “Yeah, so I don’t think I have any staying power right now,” Ben groans.

  “S’fine.” Xander takes less a second to pull off his cock and spit out the word, and then after that it’s all, as far as Ben is concerned, wet, tongue, sucking—he’s got his fingers wrapped in Xander’s hair, which has grown back in all its glory, and he’s done, too quickly, but it doesn’t matter because, “Feel better?” Xander asks. “Good. My turn.”

  Ben nearly breaks something in his hasty struggle to get to Xander’s dick, pulling at his clothes like they’re on fire. “Did you have to wear jeans this tight?”

  “You weren’t complaining before when you were checking out my ass.”

  “Smug jerk.” Ben finally gets them down. The sight of Xander’s cock, hard and quivering as Ben runs a finger up it, sends a rush of relief right through him. “Some days I thought I’d never get to see this again,” he says, feeling ridiculous. But Xander kisses him, and Ben knows he’s wondered the same thing himself. He rubs his whole hand tenderly over Xander’s cock, fingertips brushing gently against his balls, and sucks Xander’s tongue firmly, tasting a faint echo of his own cum.

  “If you keep doing that, I’ll—” Xander gasps, pulling his head back, and Ben kisses his throat instead.

  “Hold me down.” He has no real idea how Xander will manage it when Ben is on top of him, but Xander obligingly shoves Ben’s face down to crotch level and wraps his fingers lightly around Ben’s wrists. He presses Ben’s hands against his chest, secure, and Ben can feel Xander’s heartbeat, quick and strong.

  With the other hand, Xander firmly grabs a handful of Ben’s hair. “No more teasing, baby. Make me come in your mouth.”

  Definitely no more teasing. Ben wants to make it good, but it’s been a long time, and he hasn’t had a popsicle for a while, either, but Xander doesn’t seem to mind. He’s more vocal than usual, and it’s gratifying to hear his praise. It takes more time than it might if Ben could use his hands, but that just makes it better. He can feel Xander’s hand contracting on his wrists every time he does something particularly good with his tongue or lips or even teeth. He feels almost light-headed, and he recognizes it as the initiation of subspace, but pulls back. Xander is shooting, bucking up into his mouth, before Ben realizes what’s holding him back.

  He doesn’t feel like he’s earned subspace yet.

  Afterwards, they lie pressed together, lazy and satisfied and a little bit giggly.

  “Christ, I’ve missed you,” Ben says at last. “Missed that.”

  “We can go again. Whenever you’re ready.”

  “You’re damn right we’re going again.” Ben wants to fuck over and over and over again, the image stretching out to infinity like a hall of mirrors. “And again and again,” he adds aloud. “Until…”

  “Until we pass out.”

  “Yes. Until then.” Because maybe then it will be enough to erase the memories of That Night.

  “Are you cold? You’re shivering.” Xander hugs him closer, rubbing at his arms.

  “No. Yes. Yeah, I’m chilly. Let’s go to bed?”

  They have to step carefully over the boxes and crumpled newspaper and the odd fork that Xander hasn’t taken to the kitchen yet, but Ben loves to see it, the debris proving that Xander is really here again, back in LA and staying. The bedroom is exactly as Ben remembers, and he sighs in pleasure as they slide between the sheets.

  “Fuck me until I can’t remember who I am,” he says to Xander, who laughs a little.

  “What’s going on in that brain? Something’s on your mind. I can feel it.”

  “We can talk about it later. Right now I just need you to fuck me.”

  “Need me to, huh? I guess there’s no arguing with that.”

  But later doesn’t come on that particular day, and Xander seems to forget about it, doesn’t mention it the next day, which suits Ben. He’s not ready to talk about it yet, the overwhelming guilt and remorse and regret of That Night, when he pushed Xander to do something he didn’t want to do.

  One day. He knows they’ll have to talk about it one day. But not
yet.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “I suppose he must be good for you.”

  Ben stares. “You what now?”

  Ramona Jones sighs, as though she doesn’t want to admit it. “You look a lot happier. You’re getting better press, too, now that you’re not moping around everywhere.”

  “It’s always about the press with you,” Ben says, but he grins.

  Ben hasn’t been looking forward to this meeting with his agent, not now that he and Xander are officially dating again. He expected her to shove him back on the Boyfriend Bandwagon, to start pushing Ben as Xander Romano’s other half, once again. But all she’s done is tell him about a new interview she wants him to do for the superhero movie.

  “Press is my job,” she says, and Ben thinks about pushing it with her, just to be irritating, but Ramona has put up with an awful lot of shit from him that she hasn’t deserved.

  “Thank you, Ramona,” he says.

  She looks startled.

  “You’re a really good agent,” he tells her. “And I don’t deserve you.”

  “No, you don’t,” she says, pursing her lips. “Lucky you’re so talented.”

  “I am?”

  “Sweetheart, I would not put up with even half your shit if I didn’t believe in you. Yes, you’re talented. Don’t make me say it again.”

  Ben is so nonplussed by her praise that he finds himself agreeing to some more promotional work for Laurent Maxime.

  He has lunch with Elijah the next day, who is in town for a quick visit. Xander has meetings and can’t make it, but Ben has no objections to seeing Elijah alone. He feels like he’s friends with Elijah in his own right, now, and he’ll always be grateful to the guy for reaching out to when Ben was at his worst.

  “Looking good, Ballard,” Elijah says when he walks in. “But I have to watch myself. Xander’ll go nuts if he hears I’ve been flirting with you again.”