“Yeah, you’ll have to risk your life entering my hovel one more time,” Elijah says, fishing out his own keys. “Come on up.”
Ben grabs his keys and wallet from the coffee table and says an abrupt, “Bye,” but Elijah stands in front of the door with his arms folded. He’s pretty sure Ben Ballard could bench press two of him, but Elijah is determined.
“Nuh-uh,” he says. “We need to have a chat.”
Ben gives him an incredulous look. “Elijah—”
“Humor me. Come on, man. I just need to put my mind at ease.”
“Did you not hear me down at the courts? Fuck. Off.”
“I’m withdrawing that particular offer. You know, no one’s ever actually taken me up on it before?”
“Really,” Ben says flatly. “You surprise me.”
But Elijah smiles. Ben Ballard might have piercing, sapphire-blue eyes that makes hearts flutter and knees weaken, but Elijah knows his own strengths. He knows that there are very few people who can resist his friendly, funny-looking face, especially when he smiles.
And what do you know, Ben Ballard ain’t one of them either.
“Fine,” Ben mumbles, and swivels to head back to the sofa.
“You think I’m nosy,” Elijah says, still smiling, even though it’s hard to keep up under Ben’s steely glare. “You think I’m nosy, but I’m just trying to be a good friend.”
“I’ll tell you this much, Elijah, you’re the second-most interested person on the planet in my personal life.” And Ben gives him a sudden, sharp stare.
Elijah isn’t sure exactly what he means, but he forges on. “Dean is curious too, although he hides it better. I’m the only one with the balls to actually ask about it.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“See, that’s where I think you’re wrong.” Elijah settles back into the cushions and swipes a hand over his still-sweaty face. “We’re friends, and part of the job description is to look out for each other.”
“Well, I’m fine, so you’ve done your duty.” Ben makes to stand up again, but Elijah frowns at him until he sits again with a huffy sigh.
“We mess with each other, me and Dean and Xander, because that’s just how we are. And I mess with you, too, but if you don’t like it, I’ll stop it. Seriously. I’m starting to second-guess the shit I say, which I hate having to do, because I’m not very smart and I’m pretty sure I’ll say stupid shit anyway.”
Ben looks at his knees. “Nah, man, it’s cool. I don’t mind. I like it.”
“Alright. So how come you get so jumpy sometimes? When we joke around about—”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“Elijah, come on. You don’t want to know about this stuff. Trust me.”
Elijah sits forward in the chair. “Oh, dude. You’re really gonna make me go there, aren’t you? Fuck, this’ll make me feel guilty for days, but okay.” Ben gives him a startled glance. “After you and Xander broke up—”
“Elijah,” Ben says quickly. “I don’t want to hear about that.”
“After you and Xander broke up,” Elijah continues, louder, “who was the awesome, handsome, talented guy who came around to see you and tried to cheer you up? Me, that’s who. Elijah Dover, Friend to All. And who never said a word to Xander about the state you were in, because you asked him not to? Me. Elijah Dover.”
He sees Ben’s mouth give a brief quirk.
“And who then had to live with the extreme remorse caused by said silence?”
“You, I’m guessing.”
“You guess right. So the way I see it, we have a connection. Not a sexy gay-loving connection, much to my chagrin, but nevertheless: a connection.” It’s the best way. Get Ben laughing, and he might let down the barriers a little. Elijah hopes so, anyway. “I want you to feel like you can tell your Uncle Elijah anything.”
“Uncle Elijah?” Ben snorts. “Not feeling that.”
“Fine, be that way. Guardian Angel Elijah, then.”
Ben shakes his head, but he’s smiling now. “I’d ask where your halo is but I suspect the answer would be something uncomfortable to do with your genitalia.”
“You know me too well,” Elijah concedes. “So here’s the thing. Your relationship with Xander—it’s okay, right?”
“Sure.” Ben frowns, confused.
“I mean, it’s not something I should be worrying about?”
“We’re fine.”
“Okay, you’re not reading my subtle undertones here. I’m not asking about you and Xander being fine, I’m asking whether there’s anything I should be worried about.” Ben still looks blank. “Like, for example, why didn’t you want to take your shirt off at the courts?”
Ben swallows. “I don’t really want to—”
“Uh, yeah, I don’t really want to either, buddy. I don’t want to ask you if you’re involved in a violent relationship, or whether your boyfriend is hitting you or anything like that—I don’t want to ask you anything that makes it seem like I’m thinking bad thoughts about Xander. He’s my best fucking friend and I don’t want to think anything like that about him, because it would break my goddamn heart. But I have to ask, because what kind of human being would I be if I didn’t ask?”
A less nosy one, Gina would say, but she would understand.
Elijah forges on. “You guys have a knife lying around that you both get all weird and jumpy over, and…I’ve read those blind items along with the rest of the world. I haven’t said anything because I thought they were bullshit. There’s no fucking way Xander’s stepping out on you. But I have eyes, man. You have bruises on you sometimes.”
Ben has been getting paler as Elijah speaks, and at the last words, his hands jerk to his tee collar instinctively, twist it up higher. “No, I don’t.”
“Ballard,” Elijah says gently, “I’ve seen your wrists sometimes when they have fucking fingerprints on them. And once you had some kind of hickey that looked like a vampire had been gnawing on your neck. And another time…” Actually, though, Elijah doesn’t want to mention the other things he’s seen, because he has no words to describe some of them beyond what the fuck. “I know Xander’s into…stuff. But that stuff? It made me start thinking, and then start worrying. So just—I don’t want details, trust me—just tell me you’re okay and make me believe you and I’ll drop it.”
Ben’s troubled expression is not helping, but Elijah gives him time. The last thing he wants is to push Ben into anything, or to risk some kind of misunderstanding.
“I am not involved in an abusive relationship,” Ben says at last. “But I think you know what Xander’s like, or at least suspect, so…maybe it depends on how you define violence.” Ben cringes, and adds quickly: “But everything is consensual. And I’m okay.”
Elijah takes some time processing the information, keeps the smile on his face while he does. But the silence becomes too much for Ben.
“I didn’t used to be okay,” he admits. “Before. Things were different, and it went wrong sometimes, the things we did. I don’t mean that Xander used to hit me or anything, God. Just, we kind of messed things up, both of us.”
“Is…that why you broke up?”
“Yeah.”
“But you worked it out?”
Ben fidgets. Elijah waits, even though the encouraging smile seems to be freezing on his face and making his muscles ache.
“I don’t want to say too much,” Ben sighs. “Because Xander likes to be private about it and frankly, so do I. But I have other people to talk to now, about what it is we do. A community of people who are into the same sorts of things. I didn’t before, but now I do, and Xander and I have worked out a really good balance.”
To his surprise, Elijah feels hurt. “You could have talked to me,” he says. “You still can. I know everyone thinks I’m just some clown who makes dumb jokes all the time and sticks my nose into everyone else’s business, but that’s because I care. About Xander, and about you. And you of all people
should know you can trust me to keep my mouth shut when it counts.”
Ben looks up in consternation. “I do know that. But this stuff, it’s not the normal relationship bullshit that goes on, and sometimes it’s difficult for me to talk about it. And you and Dean…you have to admit, you guys take great delight in mocking Xander’s past, um…”
“Conquests?”
“Yes.”
Unexpectedly upset, Elijah gets up and grabs them each a fresh bottle of water from the kitchen. He’s still half-drunk and feeling dehydrated after the courts, so maybe that’s why he’s going all emo over this.
“But you know Dean and I don’t talk about you that way, right?” he asks quietly, while Ben is drinking.
Ben pants as he lowers the bottle, half-empty. He shakes his head while he catches his breath. “Nope. I don’t know.”
“Well, now you do.” Elijah is ashamed of himself. “Is that why you never talked to me?” But Ben just shrugs. “Fuck. Ballard, I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have talked like that in front of you. Hell, at all. And I wish you could trust me enough to talk about things if you need to, because I do—” He breaks off and swallows, but he’s got to say it even if Ben teases him about it for the next decade. “I do care about you.”
Ben looks up at him with a half-smile. “I know. You have a big gay crush on me.”
“I’ll cut that out. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”
“Jeez, ’Lij, lighten up!” Ben grins. “You mess around with me because you like me. It’s how you show me that you care. I know that.” He stands up, ready to go. “And listen—it’s the same with Xander. What he does, he does to show me that he cares.”
Elijah follows him to the door, feeling confused but happier. “So the knife…you know what, never mind. I get the feeling I’m out of my depth here.”
Ben gives him a wicked look, and raises an eyebrow. “Actually, if you have any tips on how to stop fingernail scratches from itching like crazy while they heal up, I’m all ears.”
Elijah cringes. “I do not. And I didn’t need to hear that.”
“Nope, you didn’t.” Ben is chuckling now. “I’ll catch you next week, okay? My place. I’ll make sure all the sexy props are out of sight this time.”
Elijah grabs his arm as he turns to exit. “But if you ever do want to talk about that stuff,” he says bravely, “I’ll listen. And I won’t tell Xander anything.”
Ben pats his hand. “Thanks, man. I don’t know that I’ll ever need to take you up on it, but I appreciate it.”
“And…please don’t tell Xander I thought he was beating on you.”
“Just a misunderstanding. Go polish your halo, Elijah. Groom your wings.”
Elijah gives some serious thought, after Ben has gone, to hanging up his halo for good. But hell, everyone needs a Guardian Angel. Including Elijah, who is beginning to wonder exactly what Gina will say when she finds out about this.
Chapter Seventeen
It takes a long time for Byron to stop thinking obsessively about Ben Ballard after their encounter. He waits a few days to send a message to Ben Ballard’s account on the kink dating site, asking whether they could meet up again, maybe put into practice some of the things they talked about.
But Ben Ballard doesn’t reply, and Byron waits another week before sending another Hey, man, do you wanna catch up again? message, and then a month and a half before a Hey, you still there? knowing how desperate it makes him seem. It’s Ben Ballard, he’s probably used to it, being so incredibly hot. But Byron would be a complete moron if he didn’t try. Besides, he’s desperate to try all that stuff they talked about.
But one day the profile disappears, and the email address bounces back as unreachable, and Byron has to admit to himself that Ben Ballard is not going to contact him again.
He can’t help thinking of him only as Ben Ballard. In his fantasies, he calls him Sir or Master (the latter if he’s looking for a super-quick shooting time) and Ben Ballard calls Byron slave, slut, whore, hole, and worse. He’s pretty sure he could die happy watching Ben Ballard’s voluptuous lips mouthing those words while he brands his initials deep into Byron’s flesh.
He sets Google alerts and obsessively reads all the fetish profiles on every site he can think of, in case Ben Ballard signed up under another name. And even as the time goes by, and the likelihood of ever seeing him again in the flesh grows smaller and smaller, Byron does his best to construct himself into the kind of sub he thinks Ben Ballard might like.
Obedient, and graceful, and well-behaved. Polite. Someone who wouldn’t embarrass him at Cannes or the Oscars (where Ben Ballard is definitely going to end up, Byron is sure), but who would immediately go down on him in the limo when ordered. Someone who would take whatever Ben Ballard dished out and afterwards say, thank you very much, may I lick your boots, Sir?
During summer break his parents insist on him coming to Greece to visit the extended family he’s never met and doesn’t care about. Byron is even more annoyed by the fact that last time his parents went over they let him stay alone, and that was the summer he met Ben Ballard. The thought that it’s been over a year since he saw Ben Ballard makes him depressed, and he sulks for a while after arriving, but Greece is beautiful, and the men more so. None of them are Ben Ballard, but some of them come pretty close.
His mother, who named him George after Lord Byron, takes him to Sounion to see the temple of Poseidon where the poet carved his name into one of the pillars. The temple is cordoned off but they are shown, from a distance, Lord Byron’s graffiti, and it’s thrilling to see. He even recites Byron’s lines about Sounion for the group, mostly old American tourists. Afterwards, he sits by himself away on his own and looks out over the ocean for a half hour, watching the way the sun shines a river of liquid silver from the horizon towards him. He writes a sonnet comparing Ben Ballard’s eyes to blue of the sea, and he thinks it’s pretty good. His mother does too, after she cajoles him into letting her read it, although she tells him, “Georgie, this is lovely, but let’s not show Papa. He might not understand.”
Well, no one understands him anyway. He doesn’t understand himself half the time. But trying to live up to the hypothetical standards of Ben Ballard gives him structure at least.
This is what he tells himself.
It’s sixteen months and three days before he sees Ben Ballard again, and it’s thanks to Papa of all people, whose profession has always seemed dull and embarrassing. But all it takes is one TV star’s gratitude for an emergency fix to a broken tooth late on a Sunday night, and Byron finds himself with a second-hand invitation to a real live celebrity party given by a guy called Jae Kim.
All his friends flake on him because none of them watch TV much, so they’re less than impressed by a TV star’s housewarming invitation. Anyway, they’re more interested in smoking up these days than doing anything fun. Byron quit pot the day after Ben Ballard said he never played under the influence, and he’s planning to quit his friends, too. Once he finds a new group to hang with.
But there’s no way Byron is missing the party, because he knows Jae Kim and Ben Ballard are friends, so maybe, just maybe…
He turns up alone, with a paper plate of baklava his mother made and insisted he take. He wants to dump it behind the bushes before he gets to the door, but he can’t bring himself to do it, imagining her hurt if she ever found out.
He makes his way rapidly to the kitchen after he’s let in by someone who doesn’t even question who he is; he’s planning to leave the baklava innocuously on the counter, but the kitchen is just as packed as every other room on the first floor, and he has to push his way through to put the plate down.
Byron is sucking a stray blob of honey off his finger when he sees Ben Ballard standing across the crowded room.
His heart stops.
It’s just like a movie, as he pushes past people and makes his way to those magnetic blue eyes. Just like a movie until the last minute, when Ben Ballard turns around and s
tarts walking away, because someone is calling his name from the other room. But Byron manages a last desperate lunge and grabs his arm.
“Ben Ballard.” Byron hopes his face looks less stupid than his mouth sounds. “I mean, hi! Random stranger except not really.” He can’t stop chattering, and now he’s coloring up, a blush rising hot in his face, he can feel it. “Sorry. I…”
Ben Ballard has swiveled around in surprise. His eyes go wide for a second and then narrow. “I know you.”
Byron nods eagerly. Ben Ballard looks down at Byron’s fingers, digging into his forearm. Byron lets go of his arm, and awkwardly sticks out his hand, like his parents have taught him to do ever since he’s been old enough to stand on his own two legs.
Ben Ballard looks at his proffered hand, and gives a twisted smile. He shakes hands, his grip firm. Just like Byron has always imagined—solid and self-assured. Byron thinks about that hand on his cock and feels his legs get wobbly.
But—fuck. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to shake hands. “Sorry, I didn’t—that’s probably not the right etiquette. Sir.”
“Oh, God,” Ben Ballard murmurs. He pulls his hand away and scratches his head, his eyes scanning the crowd behind Byron.
“I’m sorry, Sir, really.” He’s babbling. But he has to be convincing. The last thing he wants to do is fuck up this opportunity. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. I’m not trying to embarrass you or anything, Sir. Sorry.”
“Please stop apologizing. And please stop calling me—that. It’s just Ben. Really. You don’t have to—”
“But I want to,” Byron breathes, trying to project sincerity and willingness and want all at the same time through his eyes. Ben scratches his head again, scrunches up his nose.
“Really,” he says again. “I’m not…”
They’re interrupted by a tall guy with dark eyes and floppy black hair and Byron scowls at him for a split second before he recognizes him. It’s fucking Jasper Crane. This night is turning surreal.
“Hello, Benjamin,” Jasper Crane purrs. “Am I interrupting?”
Flying Free (Rough Love Book 8) Page 14