Loved by Him (Rough Love Book 5)

by Leighton Greene

  And then there’s the fact that Xander will work long hours, and when he’s not filming he’ll have to do publicity and press junkets, so maybe Ben will end up with too much introvert time and get lonely and-and-and…the list of little things Ben worries about goes on and on.

  But there is one big thing drawing him to New York, apart from Xander himself, and that’s Walt freaking Whitman. The guy’s been dead over a century, and he isn’t exactly Ben’s type, what with the long white Santa beard, but nevertheless: Whitman is his new obsession. Ben’s been rereading all those poetry greats that were recommended to him at college, and while he read Whitman pretty widely then, he never read deeply, like he’s doing now. Walt Whitman, the Poet of America, was born on Long Island, worked in Brooklyn, wrote City of Orgies about Manhattan, and was into dudes. Ben is excited to see what Whitman saw; to find in New York what touched Whitman, and what made him great. Maybe he can find some of that magic himself, to add to the magic he and Xander create between them.

  But then, as usual when Ben feels like his life is coming together and he’s finally getting ahead, comes a spanner in the works. A spanner in the shape of Ramona Jones and a proposed contract package for a hit TV show that would quadruple what Ben ever made at the coffee shop, even though he would just be interning.

  “She said she could get me something in New York,” Ben complains, once he’s listened for the tenth time to the voicemail she left. He’s standing in Xander’s kitchen and put the message on speaker this time so Xander can hear it too.

  Xander gives him a look that says he’s wondering about Ben’s sanity. “Baby,” he says carefully, “I’m starting to wonder if maybe you’re trying to sabotage yourself.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ben asks, confused.

  “Ramona Jones comes to you and offers to take you on as a client, and you tell her it’s not a good fit. Ramona Jones is a fit for anyone who wants to write in this town, not to mention get paid a lot of money for it. Now you don’t want to take an amazing opportunity because it’s not in New York?”

  “Well, I’m moving to New York,” Ben points out. “I can’t have a job here and live there.”

  Xander regards him, his gaze thoughtful. “You know, you really have something in you, Benjamin. You have a gift.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he sighs.

  Xander continues: “And when you have a gift like that, it becomes a responsibility to use it. To get it out there. To take opportunities as they come up.”

  Ben stares at him. “Are you saying you don’t want me to come to New York?”

  But Xander shakes his head. “No. That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

  “Well, fine, I choose to bestow my gift on New York.”

  “That’s great, only the opportunity the universe has presented you with is not in New York.”

  Ben’s temper, never far from the surface when he’s under stress, begins to heat. “If you don’t want me to come, just—”

  Xander comes around the island counter to hug him. “There is nothing in this world that I want more than you, dumbass,” he says gently. “So quit thinking anything different. I love you and I want you with me, but because I love you, I want the best for you.”

  It takes Ben a second, but he hugs Xander back. “You really think this TV show is the best for me?”

  Xander lets out a long, shaky breath. “I think it’s a great opportunity, and I don’t want you to ruin your reputation in this industry before you even get started.”

  Ben gives a muffled groan into Xander’s shoulder. “Don’t make yourself difficult to work with, Benjamin?” he says, only half-sarcastically. But he gets it. The industry is small enough that a poor attitude gets around. Ben swore he’d never act like one of those entitled jerks he’s encountered at his critique group, the kind who call up Steven Spielberg’s production company and demand that the man himself read their shitty, half-baked scripts. But here he is, doing just that. He has no idea why Ramona Jones thought he was worthwhile enough to have a second meeting with. He has no idea why he’s being so resistant to everything. People are trying to help him – people are putting their own reputations on the line, including Xander and Ramona – and Ben is acting like it’s still not good enough.

  “Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re…you’re right.” And he hugs Xander harder. “But what does that mean for us?”

  “It means we go back to the original plan,” Xander says, too brightly, too calmly. “Plan A: we do long distance for a few months. It’ll suck, but it’s not forever, and it means we both get what we want. A relationship is about compromise, right? Someone wise once said that.”

  “Yeah, a real wise-ass.”

  Xander snorts. “It was you, Benjamin. You said that.”

  Ben chuckles in surprise, pulling back to look Xander in the face. “Okay,” he says, after a moment. “We can do this. You’re right, it’s not the end of the world. I can visit. I’ll get time off now and then, and so will you.”

  Xander nods, but then his resolve, the carefully-built facade he’s been cultivating since they started this conversation, cracks just a little. “Listen, I don’t have to live in New York for this job on The Hunter, I could—”

  “What, commute?” Ben says. “You’d end up spending more time on a plane than with me anyway.”

  “I could always…I mean, it’s just TV. What I really want to do is theatre, and—”

  Ben puts a hand on Xander’s chest to forestall him. Sure, Xander could turn the part down and they could both stay in LA. But asking Xander to do that would be like cutting off a limb; Xander wouldn’t quite be the whole Xander if he had to give up this part that he worked so hard for. And that phantom ache would be there for the rest of his life. It’s not just TV, however Xander might being trying to minimize it. It’s his big break. Besides – “You just gave me a whole speech about taking what the universe gives out,” Ben tells him. “If I have to, you have to, too.”

  Xander gives him a despondent look. “But the universe gave me you, too,” he says softly.

  “And you’ll still have me,” Ben points out. “Even in New York, even with thousands of miles between us, I’m yours, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  It’s the bravest Ben has ever had to be in his life.

  “You know, they have clothes in New York. You don’t need to take four of those,” Ben insists, waving at a pile of similarly-colored shirts on Xander’s bed.

  “Baby, I’ve got this. Relax.”

  “Why don’t you just wear those stupid boots on the plane? That’ll give you more space for–”

  “Benjamin.” Xander puts down the jeans he’s folding and takes Ben gently by the shoulders. “I’ve got this. Really. Go sit down or something.”

  Ben looks at the suitcase, the window, at the knife on the nightstand. Anywhere but Xander’s face.

  “Okay,” he says, thrusting a bag of hair care stuff at Xander’s middle. “Here. I’ll go watch TV for a while.”

  He can hear Xander’s sigh as he leaves the room, but he doesn’t look back. Tomorrow is the day he’s been dreading. They’ve both been dreading. Xander’s been back and forth between LA and New York for weeks, but now he’s moving there for real. Ben doesn’t want to think about it, so he’s pushed it to the back of his mind all week. The fact that he was the one who encouraged it just makes it sting more, but what else could he do?

  There was one incident, to which they tacitly do not refer, which cemented their agreed status even more. Xander was holding him close, sucking at his neck in the Ben’s lounge room, near the bedroom door, unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Do you want to go to your clubs over there?” Ben blurted.

  “What do you mean?” Xander murmured.

  “I just meant – if you wanted, you could go play at your clubs in New York. While we’re apart. If you needed to.”

  Xander pulled back like he’d been slapped, the color leaching out of his face so fast that Ben stepped forward
, thinking he was going to pass out. “Do you want to play with someone else? Do you – do you want to break up with me?”

  Ben mentally kicked himself. He smiled, trying to joke it off. “Hell, no. Besides, I think my mom would kill me if I broke up with you. I didn’t mean sex stuff, I just thought…on the internet, a lot of couples have arrangements where the Dom can, you know, spank other guys or–”

  Xander grabbed him by the shoulders, fingers digging in, and kissed Ben so hard they both came up gasping for air.

  “Please don’t ever say something like that again,” Xander said afterwards. Ben could see him struggling with his self-control, and drew Xander’s face towards his, down over his neck onto his shoulder. Xander opened his mouth reflexively and Ben felt teeth skimming over his flesh. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ben had said. “It was stupid. I didn’t mean it. It was a stupid thing to say.”

  “And for fuck’s sake, stay off the internet.”

  But now, the day before departure, Ben still has no idea what Xander is planning to do about the kinky side of his personality. Ben has seen Xander control himself, hold back from anything really rough, for a week, two weeks, even three before their big scene, but ultimately it all comes rushing out like a dam breaking. If he’s only going to get to see Xander every month or two – well, Ben wonders about what that might mean.

  Xander hasn’t used the knife again, although he caught Ben sitting with it one day on the bed, flicking it in and out. He took it from Ben without a word, and put it back under the bed. Ben hasn’t touched it since, but its presence is always there.

  Ten minutes into Ben’s channel-flicking, Xander slumps down next to him on the couch.

  “I don’t have to go,” Xander says.

  “Sure you do. Contracts. Legal stuff. Blah blah blah.”

  “I could throw myself down the stairs and break my arm.”

  “Break your neck, you mean.”

  “That wouldn’t happen. I’m graceful.”

  “Xander, I want you to go. Really. I’m just going to miss you.” Like crazy. Ben’s been trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does, because he knows it’s horrible for Xander too. But it’s hard, really hard.

  They repeat the same assurances they’ve been saying for weeks.

  “It’s not forever,” Xander sighs.

  “Right. And I can come visit you. You can show me the best coffee places in New York.”

  “And I’ll be back here too from time to time. I’ll need to. Don’t want Noah and Henry to forget me.” Joe is taking the pets while Xander is away, since Ben’s apartment is shoebox-sized.

  “They won’t forget you.”

  “Don’t want you to forget me either,” Xander adds quietly. They both sit silently for a few minutes. Ben is trying to compose himself.

  “Well, you better give me something to remember you by,” he says in the end, with a wide grin, and even though they both know it’s just an act, Xander plays along, pretends it’s all okay.

  “Oh, I will. After the party.” He smiles wickedly. Ben feels the familiar nerves, and they’re welcome.

  “If you’re finally done packing, we should go,” Ben says. “We’re going to be late.”

  “No, I haven’t finished. And it’s my party, so I get to make a grand entrance,” Xander says airily. Ben loves him like this. He’s looking forward to watching Xander work the room at the party.

  A long time ago, that Xander was the norm; it was all Ben saw. He likes the contrast of the public Xander and the private man, and even that other side, the one Xander hides away carefully, even from Ben most of the time. He hasn’t seen that side Xander since their scene, even though Ben occasionally tries to provoke him forth, but no. Xander is too experienced to give in to that if he doesn’t want to.

  The party is out in the suburbs, at Joe’s friends’ place again, because they have a pool and it’s been very warm lately. It takes forever to drive there.

  “If we leave it much later, people will think you’re not coming,” Ben says. “And they will leave. And there will be no one waiting for your grand entrance.”

  “Fine, I’ll finish packing in the morning,” Xander grumbles. “Does my hair look okay?”

  “Like I’ve been telling you all day, it looks ridiculous,” Ben grins.

  “Shut up. I haven’t asked that many times.” He still takes a few minutes to re-coif in the bathroom.

  As soon as they enter the house, Xander is caught up in a whirlwind of friends, well-wishers, and even, from what Ben can see, a few guys who think they might get lucky tonight. Ben knows that his own reputation among a certain part of Xander’s circle is that he’s just an experiment, Xander seeing how long he can twist the straight boy gay. Xander has reassured him that they’re just being bitchy, although Ben can’t see how that’s supposed to comfort him.

  “Come into the kitchen,” Ben eventually insists. He pulls Xander firmly towards the other side of the room, even as Xander holds conversations and greets people.

  “Hey, you guys,” Julia says to them when they reach the kitchen. She’s holding hands with her boyfriend Max, who owns the house. They’re standing over trays and trays of intricate finger food.

  “Wow.” Xander is truly impressed. “This looks…”

  “I told you,” Ben nods at Julia.

  “It was worth the effort,” she agrees.

  Joe is suddenly there as well, holding his camera. “Let me do the speech.” He turns to Xander. “So, guest of honor, you get to try all the hors d’oeuvres before they go out, and thanks for being late so we’re all starving. You better make a big fuss over them, because we’ve been slaving over them all day.”

  “We?” Xander asks.

  “Me, Julia and your crazy-looking boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, I helped,” Ben says, grinning like a madman.

  “You helped? When?”

  “When I allegedly went jogging this morning. For two and a half hours, Xander? Joe and Julia came to my place to do them.”

  “But – you came back all sweaty and wheezy and disgusting.”

  Ben shrugs. “I’m Method, baby.”

  Xander laughs, delighted. Joe’s camera snaps.

  “Try these ones first,” Ben says. “I made them.” He picks up a round of black bread topped with sherbet-orange folds of smoked salmon and a dill garnish. Everyone else tactfully turns to rummage in the fridge or look out the window as Ben holds it up to Xander’s mouth.

  “Is it edible?” Xander snarks.

  “Be a good boy,” Ben tells him quietly, and Xander looks startled. “Open wide for me.” And Ben smiles to see Xander obediently open his mouth. “Say thank you,” he reminds Xander after he’s chewed and swallowed. “Don’t be mean. Or else!” He lowers his brows in a parody of Xander’s frowny face and wags a finger at him.

  Xander looks like he wants to bite into him then and there, but he settles for a hard grip around Ben’s wrist. “Thank you, Benjamin,” he says. “It was…very good.”

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised!”

  Xander smiles, kisses him. “Let me try the others now,” he suggests, sounding intrigued.

  Everyone else suddenly has somewhere to be. Julia takes the first tray of salmon rounds with her to the other room while Max gathers promised drinks. Joe follows them eagerly, fiddling with his camera.

  Ben is glad he’ll have the photos to remember this day by, although he wonders how much it will hurt to look back on them. On Xander’s last full day in LA.

  Most of Xander’s friends are there, and friends-of-friends, or at least they turn up for a few minutes to say goodbye. Even Karl from the coffee shop is there. He’s been hiring new staff since everyone seems to be leaving. Ben sees him talking up the coffee shop to a few of the guests, the ones who he thinks might be starving actors in need of a day job. But everyone Karl is approaching is already pretty famous, Ben notes, although Karl doesn’t seem to
recognize them. He has to stifle a laugh, and pulls Karl away from a rising starlet and into a conversation with Xander instead to minimize the damage.

  “Are you drunk?” Xander asks, after Karl’s third dirty joke.

  “Of course! All my staff have left me and I need something to help me through the day.”

  Jae and his wife stop by briefly, but they have to leave too soon. Carla is there, and Mariah spends most of the late afternoon trying to tango in the crowded dance space with her boyfriend, but no one can begrudge her their skewered feet and elbowed noses when she’s so beautiful and so inebriated.

  A few of Xander’s new co-workers on The Hunter turn up too, including the star, an Englishman with a breathtaking face. Ben is dazed by his preternatural prettiness this close-up. “He’s gorgeous,” he says to Xander in an undertone.

  “I know, right?” Xander sighs. “I have to work with that distraction.” They grin at their shared appreciation, and Ben doesn’t feel even the slightest tinge of jealousy.

  He knows who Xander loves.

  When he tires of the crowd, his introversion rising up like a tidal wave, Ben escapes to the kitchen, and is pleased to see all his salmon things have been devoured. Dorian stumbles in after him, looking high and giggly. “Fuck,” he says, looking at the empty trays. “No more food?” He throws down a baggie on the counter and gestures towards it. “Want some?”

  “No. But thanks.” Ben offers him some chips and dip, and Dorian wolfs them down.

  “So, still doing all that kinky stuff?” Dorian asks in between shoveling food. “How’s it going?”

  Ben grins. Dorian’s cheeky, blunt nature has won him over during the past few months, despite himself.

  “Just fine, thanks. Looks like you bought yourself twenty dollars’ worth of munchies.”