Break the Rules (Rough Love Book 7)

by Leighton Greene

  Ben glances at Xander, who seems embarrassed. “Interesting. So let me get this straight—you thought you were just made up of bits?”

  Xander spreads his hands. “Of course. That’s why I thought you were making me complete. Well, that and some other things.”

  “What other things?” Ben asks immediately.

  “Oh…” Xander shrugs and looks vague.

  “Honesty Policy.” He gives a smug grin at Xander’s raised eyebrows.

  “You shouldn’t smirk like that. It’s bad manners.” But Xander smiles back. “Fine. In therapy I talked a lot about balance, and why I felt like you balanced me out, made me feel like a whole person. Some of it was because of work, actually, because an actor needs a writer, a director. But then there’s the sex stuff.”

  Ben nods. “A sadist needs a masochist, and vice-versa. But why does the quote bother you so much?”

  “I feel like if I love you, I should want to hurt you less, not more. Because if power is the Shadow of love—”

  “But it doesn’t say that, not exactly. I mean, it might in the original German, but Mr-I-Don’t-Need-Context assures me that he doesn’t need to read the original German.”

  Xander ignores the bait and says instead, “What do you mean, it doesn’t say that?”

  “It says one is the Shadow of the other, it doesn’t specify which one is which. In fact, they could both be Shadows, of each other.”

  “Love would not be a Shadow,” Xander points out, using the sensible, corrective tone that drives Ben crazy sometimes.

  “Love is not always a good thing,” Ben insists. “Love can be twisted. Love can be a mask for other things.”

  Xander stares at him, and Ben can almost see him processing it, his brain ticking over. “Alright. I concede that love is not always a positive thing, but I still don’t think that a consuming need for power can be good. Neutral, maybe, but that’s as far as I’d go.”

  “Sure it can be good.” Ben is warming to his theory. It’s like being back in tutorials at Berkeley, arguing his point of view. “Not being consumed by it, no, but if you didn’t take power from me during sex—and we’ll assume for the sake of argument that it’s not just pretend—” He can’t help but glare, but Xander just turns up one corner of his mouth and nods. “If you didn’t do that, if we didn’t have a power exchange, it wouldn’t be as amazing as it is. And—” he’s hit with inspiration, “you need power over yourself, too, self-control. During sex, of course, but more generally too, it’s important to have control over ourselves. You can’t have balance without control. Without power.”

  “That’s…not completely bullshit, but it still doesn’t explain everything. If love and power are both Shadows, that means—” Ben watches his face closely and sees it, a flash of fear. “Look, maybe I should write this down and discuss it with Paul.”

  “No,” Ben insists. “No, I want to help. Wait—” He goes to his bag to grab the journal and a pen, and then shoves Xander’s feet off the end of the sofa to sit down next to him. “But you were right about one thing; we should write it down.”

  Xander is staring at the journal. “You still have that?”

  “Of course. And I’ve been writing in it.”

  “Why?”

  “For you.”

  “But…why?”

  “Because you like it, moron. Now tell me the quote again.”

  Xander repeats it and Ben writes it across the top of the next clear page.

  Where love rules, there is no will to power, and where power predominates, love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.

  1) Love and Power can be Shadows of each other.

  Ben looks up. “See, this just makes my point for me. Love and power can both be all-consuming, but if you hold them in balance…” He trails off. Thinking about this stuff is hard, and he’s starting to feel like he hasn’t done it in a while; his brain is sort of seizing up. But Xander is waiting patiently, even hopefully. Ben looks at Xander’s hands, twisting up in each other. It’s the only thing giving away his nerves. Xander is wearing the rubber band still. “Maybe it’s not a balance thing so much as—give me that.”

  Xander pulls his hand away protectively. “What?”

  “The rubber band.” Xander, of course, is looking at him like he’s crazy, but he pulls it off and hands it over. “Maybe it’s more like a rubber band than balancing scales.” Ben pulls the elastic taut, bouncing it a few times. “Like this.”

  Xander is very excited. Ben can tell by his bright eyes and the way his whole body seems to come alive. “So you’re saying I need to keep them balanced and—and pulling against each other, stretching each other.” He grabs the pen away from Ben and scribbles down point two in the journal.

  2) Love and Power can be held in balance through a tension of opposites, like a rubber band.

  “I don’t know if we’d be published in any reputable academic journal,” Ben says. “But I think we’re doing pretty damn well.” He feels proud of himself, and of Xander. “Maybe we should put in some footnotes,” he jokes, bumping into Xander’s shoulder.

  Xander gives a small smile. “It’s still not an answer, though,” he says quietly. “If I love you so much, why do I want to hurt you?”

  “Because that’s how you show love.” Ben shrugs. It’s not rocket science. But Xander looks grim.

  “I have never in my life understood this drive I have to make people hurt, make them afraid. And this fucking limitless desire to make you hurt, I have no idea what that’s all about. I need limits, baby. I don’t function well without them.”

  “You have limits. You said you’d never choke me.”

  But Xander shakes his head. “During the 24/7 trial, you know I felt like I had a boundless desire to hurt you and control you, and I’ve never felt that about anyone else before. And I said at the time that I would never choke you but even that—I kind of passed that, too, that night when I turned up at your place.”

  That was my fault. Ben looks down at his hands, winding the rubber band around his fingers until the tips go white. He still feels a crippling guilt about That Night, although he hasn’t mentioned it to Xander, because Xander has forgiven him. And every time he tries to articulate how he feels to Suzanne, his throat closes up and he has to change the topic.

  Xander continues: “If there’s anything that power exchange trial showed me, it’s that the more control I have over you, the more I want. The more power I had, the more I craved, and it was just…oh, Benjamin. It was like I couldn’t breathe.” Ben sees the fear cross his face again and points at him.

  “I think Dark Xander might be trying to come out and play.”

  “Dark Xander?”

  “Yeah, like—your Shadow.”

  “That’s dumb,” Xander says, but he looks amused. “I mean, the name. But apart from that, I think you’re right, actually. I get to the point where I think things might start making sense and I get petrified, and I have to run away and comfort myself with pictures of your ass. And speaking of which, if you wanted to send me a few more of your cock, they would be gratefully received.”

  Ben gives him a thoughtful look. “And now you’re trying to deflect with sex. Hi, Dark Xander!”

  Xander opens his mouth to protest but then thinks it over. “Well, fuck.”

  “See, I should be your analyst. You can pay me three hundred an hour to listen to your problems and point out when you’re being shadowy.”

  Xander raises an arch eyebrow. “You think Paul costs three hundred an hour?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. Is he half that? More? Oh, my God, he’s more isn’t he! Jesus Christ, Xander!”

  “The cost, thankfully, is not a concern. The Hunter pays damn well. Paul is the best, and he’s—he’s like me. It helps. He understands, because he feels the same things himself.”

  I can understand too, Ben wants to say, but then it strikes him: he really can’t, not some things. He will never be like Xander, and in the same way that
Ben needed people to talk to—people like him—Xander needs his own confidantes and sounding boards. “Well, that’s good,” he hears himself saying.

  “But Ben—this has been great. Really.”

  “We’re not done,” Ben says. “You still don’t get it.”

  “I get it more than I did.”

  “No, you still don’t get what I’m saying to you.” He holds up the rubber band again, stretching it, and looks at Xander. “What do you see?”

  “Literally?”

  “Sure, let’s start with that.”

  “Stretched rubber.”

  “In which direction?” Xander just looks at him. “Both directions, right?”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you see what I’m saying?”

  “Yes,” Xander says firmly, and Ben smiles. “Okay, no, I don’t, but I wanted to see you smile like that, it’s so cute.”

  “I hope you don’t flirt with Paul like this,” Ben scowls, and Xander laughs.

  “I found out he’s straight, by the way. So go on, tell me your rubber band theory.”

  Okay. We officially love Paul again. “Say this end is the power end.” Ben indicates his left hand, pulling on one end of the band. “That makes this other end love. But as far as power can stretch, so can love—they stretch the same distance. However much you want to hurt me, and even if it is limitless, which I don’t think it is, but anyway—”

  “However much I want to hurt you, I love you the same amount.” Xander’s eyes are starting to look a little wet and a little pink. “So even if I did have no limits, it means…”

  “There’s no limit on your capacity to love.”

  “And that’s—is that a good thing? You said before, love can get twisted.”

  Ben takes up Xander’s hand and slides the rubber band back onto his wrist, then looks into his face, which is still troubled. “I think it’s a fantastic thing. I know what you’re like when you’re in love. You give it everything that you have, and not everyone is like that. I think it’s a good way to be, although it makes you vulnerable. But as long as you can hold that stretchy balance, I think you’ll be okay.” Xander tries to turn away, but Ben grabs him. “Oh, no. I’ve cried enough times in front of you.”

  Xander gives a laugh, but it’s half-sob. “You don’t cry,” he sniffles, and they both smile at that. But Xander really is crying, tears spilling over even as he tries to wipe them away.

  “Are you okay?” Ben asks after a second.

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you crying?”

  “Because—because maybe I’m not a monster after all.” He sounds so young and so scared. Ben kisses him impulsively, briefly on the lips and then over his cheeks to taste his tears, and Xander lets him, his hands snaking around Ben’s waist and pulling him closer. At some stage, Xander pulls away to scribble down point three—”I don’t want to forget,” he says.

  3) My capacity for love is just as great as my will to power.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Joe comes home to find them wrapped up in each other, making out like a couple of teenagers on the couch, and they pull apart guiltily.

  “Jeez, Xander. You have a room here, you know.” But Joe is just teasing. “Long time, no see, Ben. How are you?”

  “I’ve been, yeah, fine, uh. You?” Ben is hyperaware of his flushed lips and cheeks, scratched up from rubbing across Xander’s face and neck. And his dick, pushing up into the denim of his jeans. He resists the urge to pull a cushion over his lap, and Joe tactfully keeps his eyes trained on Ben’s face.

  Xander and Ben go to the guest room and lie on the bed, talking more. Joe turns on the television in the lounge, and tactfully puts the sound up high, but Xander and Ben don’t do anything more than kiss occasionally. The conversation is light. Xander seems tired, and Ben doesn’t want to push, until he feels he has to.

  “Where are we going from here?” he asks when the light begins to die. “Do I still have to have some kind of limit before we can fuck again?”

  Xander turns on his side to face him. “Haven’t we talked enough for today? Can’t we just kiss some more?”

  “Xander.”

  “Yeah, I just thought I’d try it.” He’s teasing, but Ben is annoyed.

  “I’m serious, man. It’s not fair of you to expect me to have limits if you don’t. Or to expect me to be the only one to enforce them in the relationship.”

  “I know. You’re right.”

  “Because I’m not your moral compass, okay? Or I shouldn’t be.”

  Xander gives a slight frown. “Yeah, okay. I get it.”

  “Do you? I mean, you went and got that tattoo—”

  “This is about my tattoo?”

  It’s absolutely not about the tattoo, but Ben can feel the red tidal wave surging up in him, his increasing pulse beating it’s not fair, it’s not fair at his temple. “Maybe. Maybe it is. Because God forbid I get one without consulting you beforehand.”

  He swings off the bed, and Xander follows, looking startled. “I’m going to go ahead and assume this is not about you wanting to get ink,” he says.

  “Sure, go ahead, you always do what you want,” Ben mutters, trying to find his shoes. The blood is pounding in his ears, and he wants to get out of here as quickly as he can.

  “Excuse me?”

  That’s when Ben catches sight of himself in the mirror on the back of the door. He looks furious, his face screwed up, his hands clenching and unclenching.

  Dark Ben is not as suave and mysterious as he imagined previously. In fact, Dark Ben looks bitter and petty and ugly. The anger dies as suddenly as it’s come and he wheels around, frightened. He can’t fuck things up again.

  “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry—I just got mad for a second. I’m sorry—”

  “Okay.” Xander reaches out for him. “Alright. Let’s…let’s just sit down and not talk for a minute.”

  Ben slumps back on to the bed and Xander sits next to him. After a few moments, Xander slips his hand into Ben’s and squeezes. “You ready?” Ben nods. “I don’t know what you want from me, baby. I need some guidelines to work with, or something. Standard operating procedures.”

  Ben takes a deep breath. “Here’s the thing. I don’t know if I want to let go of my angry side. I feel like it’s important, it’s an important part of who I am, just like the pain stuff, so I don’t really want to get rid of it. And I know that being angry is a bad thing, but—” He breaks off, trying to think it through. “I know you think I have an issue.”

  “But you don’t think you do?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I feel like sometimes you want me to be passive. To give way. Sometimes it seems like you think I should be passive all the time, because I’m…” He swallows. It’s difficult to say, but he tries to forget about all the connotations and just see the words as neutral. “Because I’m a masochist, and a submissive. But I’m more than that, Xander. I’m much more than that.”

  Xander thinks it over, and then sighs. “I’m not going to lie to you Benjamin, I do like watching you give way. I get a charge out of it, but I don’t want you to be that way in everything you do. I don’t want a blow-up doll, although you’d make a very pretty one.” Ben gives a half-smile. “So I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like I want a stereotype instead of—instead of you. I just worry about you; you get so angry sometimes. I’m scared you’re going to do something you’ll regret.”

  I already have, Ben thinks, agony striking his heart again as he thinks about That Night. But he pushes it away. “I’m still working on the balance, I guess,” he says.

  “I think you’re right, though. We both need to work on limitations. Work out some boundaries. Even if we don’t feel them, we still need them. Maybe we can work something out.”

  “Something arbitrary? Like, no caning after Labor Day?”

  Xander laughs, even though it’s a weak joke. “Whatever works.”


  They end up back on the bed, making out again, but something occurs to Ben in the middle of Xander’s next kiss. He pulls away and says, “Don’t freak out, but I saw Adam. When you and I were, uh. On our break.”

  Xander stiffens, but then takes a deep breath and relaxes his body. “Oh, did you?” he murmurs into Ben’s hair. “I hope he didn’t say anything too unpleasant.”

  “Mm, depends where you think blackmail falls on the spectrum of pleasant-to-unpleasant.” Ben isn’t sure what reaction he expected from Xander, but a long-suffering sigh wasn’t it.

  “I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” Xander says. “He tried it with me, too. He got my email address off someone and sent this innuendo-laden missive.”

  “What did you do with it?”

  “I deleted it, of course.”

  “I recorded him.”

  “You what?”

  Ben grins. “I recorded him on my phone and then I made veiled threats right back at him about turning him in for attempted extortion.”

  Xander’s face is a picture of conflicting emotions, but he settles on fondness. “How very James Bond of you. But I don’t think Adam would ever do what he threatens. It would mean he’d have to get off that moral high horse he likes riding so much. And even if he did go to the tabloids…”

  “If he did?” Ben prompts.

  Xander traces a finger over Ben’s nose, lips, up his cheek and then smoothes the hair off his forehead. “You know what, I just don’t think I could bring myself to care. Kinky sex is probably less of a deal-breaker than being gay in Hollywood, and I’m doing okay out of that closet so far. If he tries to spin it as abusive, that’s another thing entirely. But if Adam decides to pull those bits of my life out into public view, there’s nothing I can do to stop him, and I’m not going to worry about things I can’t control. Why are you laughing?”

  “I’m not,” Ben says, although he is, in fact, laughing. “I just don’t know if pre-therapy Xander would have been so cool with giving up control like that.”

  Xander stops Ben’s chuckling with a kiss. “It’s true,” he says afterwards, with his lips still brushing against Ben’s, “that I’ve come to some new beliefs about control. That’s down to you. Being with you makes me discover new things about myself almost daily. I feel so thankful to the Universe for letting me find you.”