Dared by Him (Rough Love Book 3)

by Leighton Greene

  “I answered your question, Ballard, so let me go. I need to shower. Get home and walk Noah.”

  “No,” Ben crows. “That wasn’t the deal.” He knows Xander is uncomfortable, but he can’t help it. He’s finally learned how to play Xander’s game and win.

  “Fine,” Xander says. “In that case, it was four months. Now can I go?”

  “Hell, no. When was this four month thing?”

  “A few years back,” Xander says dully.

  Ben twists around to look at Xander’s face, and starts to get worried. He’s never seen Xander look this way before, so troubled. So – afraid.

  “And since then?” Ben asks.

  “I've dated for a couple of months here and there.” Ben waits. Xander says with a carefully neutral tone, “Every guy - when I get too rough, they leave me afterwards, days or sometimes weeks, but they always leave. Even if I pull it back again. They start thinking I’m like that all the way through, in everything I do.”

  “But you are not like that,” Ben says. He’s seen Xander carry cockroaches safely outside rather than kill them.

  “I guess they didn’t see it that way. But anyway. There were enough people in clubs who wanted it the way I did, and worse. Just for a night, for a few hours. And I never had to see them again afterwards.”

  Ben suddenly gets it. Xander expecting all his lovers to leave him just because of who he is. But refusing to take the easy route and hide who he is. Ben’s chest tightens up.

  Xander falls back on the pillow and starts singing a Talking Heads song under his breath. “Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est?”

  Ben has to smile, although the memory of those terrible words he said to Xander still squeeze his heart. You fucking psychopath. And Xander’s expression when he said it.

  “Do you think I’ll leave you?” Ben asks finally. Xander makes a movement in the bed that might be a shrug or might be a physical jerk away from something he doesn’t want to hear. He doesn’t reply. “We made a deal,” Ben reminds him.

  “Yeah,” Xander says, with a flash of something awful in his face; the same expression as that night when Ben said the one thing he didn’t want to hear. Ben can identify the emotions more clearly today. Anguish and – Ben never thought he would see this, not from Jung-loving, yoga-performing, tofu-eating, allegedly psychoanalyzed and integrated Xander – self-loathing.

  “I’m just trying to make it last as long as possible, Benjamin,” Xander says at last. He slides out of the bed and pads to the bathroom. Ben faintly hears him start the shower.

  Ben lies there, wondering. He wishes he could call Mariah again for advice, but there’s no way that conversation would get past the first sentence.

  Don’t just lie here, you asshole, he tells himself. What would Mariah do?

  Ben gets up and goes to Xander, who’s scrubbing at his face like he wishes it would come off under the water. He opens the shower door and pulls Xander’s hands down.

  “Don’t do that,” he says. “It promotes wrinkles.”

  Even Xander has to laugh at that. “Fuck you,” he says.

  “Please do,” Ben says. He grabs at Xander’s cock.

  “You shouldn’t be in here yet,” Xander says. “Need time to let that cream soak into your ass for the bruises.”

  “Yeah, well, fuck my ass,” Ben says, and sees Xander roll his eyes at the terrible double entendre. He slides up against him. The water is warm and actually soothing on the cane marks. Xander looks faintly surprised.

  “I’m not kidding,” he says against Xander’s mouth. “Noah can wait for his walk.” He’s stroking Xander’s cock with purpose. It’s only a matter of time before the natural reflex will kick in.

  And then it does. Xander shoves Ben up hard against the glass, which shudders but holds. He kisses him hard, rubbing himself into Ben’s stomach. Their cocks catch against each other, and Xander grabs at them both. He likes jerking them together; Ben likes it too, and especially now with the water pouring over them, washing them clean as they get dirty together. He starts breathing harder into Xander’s mouth.

  “Turn,” Xander snaps, and pushes him up against the more secure tiled wall. Ben sees him reaching for the oh-so-convenient tube he keeps in the shower, just for things like this. “You’re out of rubbers,” Xander says after a second, annoyed. Ben usually keeps those in the shower too, too lazy to care about the fact that it’s not recommended. Xander usually complains about that. They get used up so quick, what’s the difference, is Ben’s philosophy.

  “Just fuck me,” Ben says, laughing. “Bareback. I want you to. Always wanted you to.”

  Xander hesitates, but then Ben feels his fingers on his ass, rubbing between the crack. Xander’s fingers find his target and slip inside, the lube cooler against the heat of the shower. Ben pushes back, feeling open. He’s so relaxed, all over. Feels Xander’s cock replace his fingers. Ben pushes back, wanting it in him as soon as possible.

  Xander lets Ben fuck himself like that for a few minutes, but then instincts take over again. He pushes Ben flat against the shower wall, lifting him up almost on his toes. Ben scrabbles to get purchase. They haven’t had a shower accident yet, but he’s not looking for one either.

  He feels Xander bite into his shoulder, like always, and it’s like coming home. “Yes, like that,” Ben hisses. “I love that. Harder.” He wants Xander inside of him any way he can be, teeth included. But Xander won’t do it.

  “No,” he says, pulling back his mouth. “I still want it like this. Just like this.” Xander bites him again, but gently, more lips than teeth.

  “Then fuck me,” Ben says, grabbing back at his hip, pulling him inside as much as he can. Xander starts slamming into him, a hard and unsteady rhythm. Ben has no idea how Xander can come from it, but he does, his breathing ragged and desperate. It almost sounds like he’s sobbing, but there’s water everywhere and Ben is caught up in his own pleasure; he's not really sure. He feels Xander slide out eventually, drained, but he’s still breathing harshly against his ear.

  “You don’t get to cum this time,” Xander tells him, and he sounds almost petulant. He turns Ben around and they look at each other. Ben smiles.

  “That’s fine,” he says. “I got what I wanted.” Xander frowns. “Don’t be like that,” Ben wheedles.

  Xander grips his hair. “You're such a –” He breaks off, glares at him. “Such a fucking little…fuck,” he says. He seems confused by his own lack of eloquence.

  “I know,” Ben says. “But I’m your fucking little fuck, Alexander.” He pulls him close, kisses him. “Don’t be mad at me.” He feels Xander starting to relax. "Trust me," Ben says. "You need to trust me, more than you have so far. Please."

  Xander's head falls forward on to Ben's shoulder. "Okay," he says, his voice almost drowned out by the water. "Okay." He pulls back and Ben is relieved to see him start smiling. "That was surprisingly well-played, Ballard."

  "Well, Mariah helped," Ben says. Xander lifts his eyebrows. "I'll explain another time."

  "I still don't get it, man," Ben says. They’re sitting in Xander’s apartment, throwing a mini-football back and forth while Noah the dog runs crazily between them, wanting in on the game. Ben throws the ball as hard as he can, trying to get Xander in the stomach, but Xander catches it before it hits. "If you wanted a relationship with someone, why didn't you pick one of your club sluts?"

  "Don't call them that," Xander says. He hurls the ball back, and Ben stops it just in front of his nose. "That's not nice." Noah barks in agreement, but quiets under a look from Xander.

  "Whatever. So how come?"

  "Because hot sex does not a relationship make. Also," Xander's eyes widen. "Some of those people are really not right in the head." He gives a faux-serious look at Ben, who snorts.

  Ben throws again, aiming at Xander's crotch this time, because he's a jerk like that. Xander catches it easily.

  "So how's this working for you?" he asks Ben.

  "The Honesty Policy?
Good, so far." It was Ben’s idea, and Xander agreed that it might solve a lot of problems before they started. They’re agreed to answer any question honestly and without evasiveness, in the interests of better communication and trust-building between them. Ben looks at him closely. "Not that you've really answered my question yet."

  Xander blinks. "I guess not," he concedes.

  "You're very good at avoiding questions you don’t want to answer.”

  "Thank you. It’s a learned skill."

  Xander throws the ball in a high arc. Ben watches Xander watching him as he lifts his arms up to catch it, and the way his shirt tugs up to reveal a brief line of skin. "Well?" Ben asks.

  "Well," Xander says, lifting his eyes back to meet Ben's. "I tried. I tried with a lot of different people. Right at the beginning when I started dating, I tried ignoring what I wanted, and I was miserable. I got dumped a lot for being such a fucking downer all the time." Xander's mouth quirks in a smile, and Ben can see that the memory holds no pain at all for him now. "And then I had one brief relationship where I cheated on the side with everything that moved. I thought maybe I could screw it out of me. But that made me feel so bad, I didn't want to be, you know, That Guy. That was a shitty period of my life, and I’m not proud of it. After I got comfortable with myself I tried something more traditionally leather, although that went…weird in the end too."

  "Were you allergic?" Ben asks acerbically. But Xander’s words are echoing in his mind, I didn’t want to be That Guy. Cheating is bad; pain is good. Ben takes the time to admire Xander’s strange logic. He tosses the football gently, a little short, and watches Xander move gracefully forward to grab it. Noah gives up, lies down, and sighs.

  "You know what I mean," Xander says. "It was too much for me. The guy was so clingy. Wanted permission to get dressed, eat, take a piss. It was exhausting."

  "You collared him?"

  Xander looks embarrassed, but amused. "Oh, Jesus, Benjamin. Yeah, okay, I did. It was all very earnest and touching and there was a ceremony with symbolic roses and thorns, and two weeks later I wanted to leave him chained up to the bed just so I could get away from him."

  Ben starts laughing, nearly misses the ball when Xander flings it back at his head. "Hey, at least you have a story to tell the kids."

  "Your approach to parenting scares me," is all Xander says.

  "So what else?"

  "Hmm. After that I stuck with bedroom-only kink. It was hard, sometimes, finding the balance, but –"

  "You have it down to a fine art?" Ben interrupts. He pulls his arm back and throws a hard, straight line right into Xander's waiting hands.

  "Nice one," Xander says. "And yes, mostly now, I do. Unfortunately that doesn't seem to matter to the kind of guys I like to have relationships with, though.”

  "Except me," Ben prompts.

  "Except you." Xander throws the ball up in the air and catches it himself a couple of times. "Then there were times I still tried to hold back, with the pain stuff," he admits. "Some of them started to think I was cheating on them because I was too distant. Some of them were angry at me because I wouldn't talk. Several of them demanded that I do the things I wanted to do, and then they were too disgusted with me – or maybe themselves – to stay around much longer afterwards." He looks at Ben, throws the ball to him. "So I keep myself on a tight leash these days."

  "It's just weird to hear," Ben says. "I thought you were comfortable with yourself. Totally."

  Xander shrugs. "I am. But when I get serious about someone, I guess I can't help it. I start second-guessing."

  "So what about Mr Four Months?" Ben tries to do a one-armed over the head shot like he’s sinking a basketball, but the ball veers off-course. Noah lifts his head, alert. Xander lunges, tips the ball with his fingers and bounces it back into his hand.

  He looks at the football, turns it around in his hands. "I loved him," he says simply. "He put up with most of the stuff I wanted. But in the end he left. I still see him around sometimes; we have mutual friends. It’s awkward. You know, when he left me he told me he’d thought he could…cure me." Ben sees Xander's lip draw back briefly over his canines, a flash of disgust at either himself or Mr Four Months. He throws back. Ben catches; throws again.

  "You don't think like that, do you?" he asks, just to be sure. He wonders what that conversation with Mr Four Months had been like. Recriminations? Anger? Or a dull acceptance on Xander’s part? He doesn’t want to know. "Honesty Policy," he adds, when Xander doesn't reply.

  "Very occasionally, yes, I think I might need to be cured. When I wake up from a wet dream that’s more horror movie than porn, sometimes I wonder if I'm really doing as well as I think I'm doing." He slings the ball hard, and it ricochets off Ben’s chest into his hands. "But normally I just accept who I am. What I am. Doesn’t seem to be much point trying to change it."

  Ben throws the ball absent-mindedly, and this time Noah triumphantly snatches it from mid-air. Xander laughs as he watches his dog run around the room, crazed with joy.

  And Ben watches Xander.

  “I can’t,” Ben says stubbornly. Xander is smiling, shaking his head. Ben can feel it although he can’t see it. “Not without a gag. I’m a screamer. It’s just in my nature.”

  “You can,” Xander says. He has Ben pinned down underneath him, blindfolded and sticky with sweat. Usually he loves to hear Ben talk through the whole scene. But this time he wants Ben to stay silent, like he did the other day with the cane.

  “I can’t do it.” Ben is half-begging now. He can feel Xander push against him a little harder when he does.

  “You certainly can do it,” Xander says, and bites down on Ben’s nipple. “I’ve seen you.”

  “That was different,” Ben gasps. “That was the cane.”

  “So this will be easier.”

  “I can’t. I had something I was working towards then.”

  “I know,” Xander says, scratching a hard fingernail down Ben’s bicep. “And I still say you can.” He licks at the scratch, and Ben shudders. “I think you’re just being obstinate.”

  “But –” Ben starts.

  “Enough! Be quiet.” Ben would argue more, but he’s heard the note in Xander’s voice, which means, Do not fuck with me or you will regret it.

  He closes his mouth resentfully and nods. But he loves the sharp delineation between out there in the world and in here alone with Xander. And it’s true that if Xander thinks he can, he probably can.

  “I like it when you do as you’re told,” Xander says. He tweaks Ben’s nose, kisses it. He’s playful tonight, which can be worrying, Ben has found. It usually has consequences for his ass. “It’s very pleasing to me,” Xander continues, and Ben squirms in pleasure.

  Xander scratches again, and Ben can feel the trail of pain running down his arm, close to the first one. Feels Xander’s tongue tracing over it.

  “What can we do with you?” Xander muses. There’s a small repetitive sound and Ben knows that Xander is tapping against his own teeth thoughtfully with the same fingernail he used to drag scratches down his arm. “I wonder,” Xander says, half to himself. Ben hates it when Xander takes his time like this, because he already knows exactly what he plans to do; he just likes to watch Ben’s mind work over.

  Ben tries to shift, let his cock rub up against him, but Xander snaps, “No. Be still. Don’t move unless I tell you.” Ben earns a sharp pinch for his trouble, right near his armpit. He nearly says “Ow!” indignantly, but doesn’t. There’s a whole world of Ow! waiting for him if he talks right now.

  Ben sighs, gives up.

  “Oh, hey, I have an idea,” Xander says, as though he’s totally been struck with a vision from God. “Since you seemed to like it so much the other day, how about if I don’t let you cum?”

  Ben jerks his head towards where Xander’s face should be, opens his mouth, and says nothing.

  “I said, don’t move.” He pinches again and Ben grits his teeth. “You were happy enough about no
t cumming the other day,” Xander continues. “‘Oh, that’s fine, I got what I wanted,’” he says, mimicking Ben in an exaggerated voice somewhere between valley girl and stoner. Ben can’t help it, he smirks. Xander pinches again.

  Ben stops smirking.

  “Yeah, let’s do that,” Xander says. “Since you like it so much.”

  Ben curls and stretches his toes and fingers to ease the tension. It doesn’t seem fair, but Xander never does play fair if he can get away with it. A third scratch down his arm, warm wet tongue, and Ben’s cock jerks like it’s asking for attention.

  Xander’s fingernail continues its trail, lightly now, leaving no marks, drifting over Ben’s chest, digging in at the nipple again. Xander licks; Ben tries to hold himself still. He’s so hard now that he thinks he must be leaking on himself, but he’s wet with sweat from the flogging Xander gave him before they got to the bed, so it’s hard to tell.

  “So here’s something interesting,” Xander says, and he sounds like he’s discussing the latest script his agent sent over. “You can’t talk. You can’t move. And I can’t read your mind, can I?”

  Ben shakes his head slightly, although sometimes, he could swear…

  “And that means,” Xander says, and suddenly he’s gripping Ben’s dick firmly, “that it’s up to you to control yourself. Mouth and cock.”

  Ben gasps for air and feels fresh perspiration break out on his forehead. There is no way he’s up to this. He’s pretty sure Xander will let him shoot eventually, but he has to last long enough first and if he doesn’t, Xander always has some fitting retribution to rain down on him when he fails a test.

  But the rewards when he passes make everything worthwhile, so he will try.

  “Well?” Xander asks, and Ben nods once, obediently. “Good boy.” He starts rubbing Ben’s cock slowly, and presses his lips to Ben’s temple, savoring his sweat. “You taste nice,” he says. “Salty.” Ben shivers, and even though he’s not supposed to move, slides his hands under his own ass so he won’t be tempted to touch. Xander lets it go. He’s being nice tonight, for Xander, which only makes Ben more suspicious.