Marked by Him: Rough Love Part 4

by Greene, Leighton

  “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 oth
er. “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.