Flying Free (Rough Love Book 8)

by Leighton Greene

  “It’s Landry, right?” Xander confirms, smiling. “It’s not so bad. Not now that I know I have Benjamin waiting at home for me.” And he presses his lips against Ben’s temple, for which Ben is grateful.

  Xander isn’t always this cuddly in public, but right now he’s doing it as a signal to the others, who seem intent on getting his attention. And it makes Ben feel warm. Loved. Adored.

  “You two are sickening,” Jon says, pretending to gag.

  “But remember X, if you like it then you better put a collar on it,” Oliver says slyly, and Brandon snorts half his mojito back into the glass through his nose.

  “And that’s our cue to leave,” Ben says hurriedly. “Night, all. Get home safe.” They pout and boo, except for Landry, who still seems tongue-tied. “Hope you all get spankings from a hot Dom!” Ben shouts over his shoulder as they leave, to Xander’s amusement.

  To be fair, Ben’s had several mojitos.

  A few days later as Ben grabs a late, solo breakfast in a coffee shop, which also happens to be the place he used to work, he sees a jerk in a car across the street with a big-ass camera lens, taking photographs of him where he sits in the window.

  Xander isn’t even with him. And Ben is definitely not a celebrity. No one gives a shit about writers in Hollywood, and his directing career so far is decidedly lukewarm. Okay, it’s happened before, being followed around by photographers, especially when Xander’s career first blew up, but there’s been a lull in tabloid interest lately. The news cycle turns over even faster in Hollywood than it does in Washington DC, Ben sometimes thinks.

  It just unsettles him. That guy a few nights ago, and now again today—is it the same guy? Ben can’t really be sure, but he doesn’t think so. Great. So he has more than one vampire chasing him.

  He heads up to the counter to pay, and Karl calls him over to shoot the shit. Good old Karl. Ben has missed him.

  “Hey, Ballard," says Karl. "I hear you and Romano are really making go of it again. Moving in together? Good for you!”

  “Oh,” Ben says, surprised. “Um, yes, we are. Who let you know?” He knows Karl means well, but given the paparazzi haunting Ben recently, it's a little bit disconcerting.

  “Heard it from the horse’s mouth. Xander told me,” Karl says, as though it should be self-evident. “You’re not the only old hire who comes in here, you know. Dorian's been in, and Mariah, and—”

  “Oh,” Ben says, relieved. “Of course.”

  Xander has been guilted into going back to Karl’s coffee shop a few times after abandoning him for cookie things, which are sold in a different coffee shop. One of Karl’s rivals. Ben and Xander have never mentioned it to Karl.

  “Who’s that chucklehead out there snapping photos?” Karl demands, catching sight of the guy over Ben’s shoulder.

  “Oh, that's just my ugly shadow.”

  “Hm,” Karl grunts. “Hey, you’ve got a—” he motions to his own collar, and Ben subconsciously grabs his own.

  He remembers then, he has a scratch mark on his chest. Actually, a whole lotta scratch marks. Xander got a bit carried away last night with the sensation play. He hurriedly buttons up his shirt all the way, and nods his thanks to Karl. “Henry,” he says by way of explanation. “Xander’s cat. You know how cats are. One minute they want belly rubs, the next they’re taking your hand off.”

  It's embarrassing, though. Ben really hopes that Karl doesn't know exactly what that scratch mark means. Only, from the way his former boss is smirking at him, Ben is pretty sure that he does.

  Maybe that explains the photographer, Ben thinks grimly, as he makes his way back home. His current home, that is—the one he already thinks of as his old apartment, even though he and Xander haven’t set a firm date for Ben to move yet.

  Thinking again about moving in with Xander makes Ben grin as he drives. Screw the photographer; so Ben had a scratch. So what? Besides, once he and Xander are living together maybe the paps will back off more. There's nothing interesting about an old married couple.

  Well, at least as far as the tabloids know.

  Chapter Three

  This hunter has a secret almost as dark as the character he plays. He likes his boyfriends meek and mild, and spies tell us those preferences are what kept getting between him and his on-again off-again superhero scribe…So now they’ve moved in together, does this mean they’ve worked out the kinks?

  “Have you seen this?” Ben demands, thrusting his phone into his boyfriend’s face.

  Xander blinks, and pulls his head back a little to read the blind item Ben is showing him. Ben sees surprise flit over Xander’s face, followed by resignation.

  Xander takes a few breaths and then says, “No; you know I don’t read gossip columns.”

  “This is bullshit.”

  “It is pretty reductive to describe you as a superhero scribe. You’re much more than that.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “I know, baby,” Xander sighs. “I know.”

  Ben throws himself down on the couch next to Xander. He’s just received a text with the link to the online gossip site from Jon, and he’s completely outraged. Xander, on the other hand, seems accepting.

  Or trying to be, anyway. Judging by the mottled flush spreading up his neck, maybe he’s not quite as calm about it as he’s trying to appear.

  “And the kink stuff most certainly is not a problem between us,” Ben continues. Xander just lays a comforting hand on his thigh, and tries to go back to his reading. “And I am not fucking meek and mild!”

  “I think that’s what they were getting at, actually—” Xander begins, but Ben cuts him off.

  “This is so offensive,” Ben declares. “We should fucking sue!”

  “It’s a blind item, baby. Suing them would just be an admission that we recognized ourselves.”

  Ben frowns furiously at his phone screen, as though he has some of the superhero powers he’s written about recently, and can freeze brains or rewrite history or something. But what Xander says is true: doing anything in response to this sneaky blind item would just be opening themselves up for more mud.

  “I mean, you know who it is, right?” Ben says. “Adam. That asshole.”

  Xander, who has determinedly gone back to reading the latest sides of The Hunter, just shrugs. “He has his issues, that’s true. But there’s no point thinking about him any more than we have to. It won’t change anything to wish horrible things on him.”

  Ben wants to argue, but again, what Xander says is true. As much as Ben might like to have Xander’s ex, Adam, taken out by a supervillain…it’s not gonna happen.

  He resolves to put it out of his mind, just as Xander puts down the sides and turn to him, looking hesitant.

  “Um, Honesty Policy: I need to tell you something, but I need you to not freak out about it.”

  “What?” Ben asks, suspiciously.

  “I mean it, baby. No going nuclear.”

  Ben throws up his hands. “Well, how bad can it be? Fine, I’ll keep my temper. What is it?”

  Xander leans forward to grab his chai and takes an infuriatingly long sip before he replies. “I forgot to tell you at the time, but Adam emailed me a while back. He said he was going to go to the press and allege abuse if I didn’t pay up.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “You promised,” Xander reminds him, holding up a hand. “Come on, Ballard. Deep breaths.”

  Ben would really like to keep his promise, but his heart is hammering in his ears and he can just about hear the blood rushing to his face, turning it angry red. It’s his usual response to any mentions of Xander’s ex-boyfriend. He takes a deep breath, just like Xander has advised, and holds it for three seconds before breathing out.

  Then he does it twice more.

  “Nope,” he says at last. “Not helping. Still pissed.”

  Xander reaches out to put a hand on Ben’s cheek, cupping it around his ear. “I can see that. C’mere.” He pulls Ben closer for
a kiss, gentle and reassuring.

  “When?” Ben demands, as soon as Xander stops kissing him. “When did he email?”

  “Oh…the day after you moved in. I kind of assumed that was the trigger for him. You know they ran those photos on TMZ of the moving truck?”

  “You better not have deleted his email,” Ben says. “We’re going to a lawyer and we’re gonna get that asshole to back off.”

  Xander gives a rueful smile. “I still have it, but there’s nothing blatant in there. Adam is pretty careful about that kind of thing. He always tries to keep that plausible deniability.”

  Yet again, what Xander says is quite true. Ben managed to record the fucker once, but even then it wasn’t a slam dunk. He didn’t say straight out, Yes, I intend to blackmail Xander Romano. He just pointed out that Ben owed him.

  Which Ben totally did not, or at least, definitely not for a fucking crime, but that’s beside the point.

  Before Ben can argue further, his phone starts buzzing. “Oh, no,” he groans. At Xander’s raised eyebrow, he says, “It’s Ramona. Three guesses what she’s calling about.” Ben lets it buzz while he contemplates not answering.

  His agent, Ramona Jones, has a very firm finger on the pulse of his career, and something like this is not going to go unnoticed. “I’d better…” he says, gesturing weakly at his phone, and gets up to go into another room to take the call. Sometimes Ramona tells him off in a way reminiscent of his mother, and he hates the way Xander smirks about it when he overhears those conversations. And Ben is pretty sure this will be one of those conversations.

  But Ramona has Xander-like levels of calm going on about the whole thing. “Have you seen the blind item?” she asks. If Ben didn’t know her better, he might even think she sounded kind.

  “Yeah,” he groans. “I want to do something about it, but Xander thinks—”

  “It would be an admission,” she finishes.

  “Yeah, I know. I get it.”

  There’s a pause, and then Ramona says, “Look, no one really reads blinds anymore anyway. But kiddo, is there anything you’d like to share with me that might have a bearing on this situation?”

  Ben makes a face. He doesn’t know how much Ramona knows, but this does seem like the kind of thing she’d know: that he and Xander have a kinky side to their relationship. “I don’t think so?” he says, only it comes out as a question.

  There’s another pause, and then she says: “I don’t care what consenting adults do, sweetheart. Only there’s a much darker way the press could spin this. If they wanted to make things…difficult.”

  “Yeah,” Ben says, his heart dropping. Hollywood’s underbelly is undergoing another exposé right now, and he knows as well as anyone what his relationship might look like to outsiders. How it might be twisted by tabloids who want to make some noise, get attention, get that bait clicked.

  “Just have a think about it,” Ramona says. “If you want to, we can work out a crisis management plan to handle things if they blow up. You don’t have to tell me anything personal. God knows I really don’t want to hear about your sex life, kiddo. But if your sex life becomes my job, then…” She leaves Ben to fill in the blanks.

  “I get it,” he says dully.

  “Is there anyone else who might crawl out of the woodwork on this?”

  He doesn’t even have to think about that. Yes; yes, there is. He’s had his own share of people who might sell him out—thinking back to one asshole called Jake, in particular, makes him shiver. And now that he and Xander are attending scene events more regularly, sometimes it’s hard to know who they can trust, and how much.

  But Ben doesn’t want to start suspecting his still-new group of friends. They’ve all been so welcoming and helpful. He really can’t imagine any of them selling him out. Definitely not anyone Zee and Nik have introduced him to—they’re always very carefully vetted.

  Besides, Ben can’t imagine anyone would have the stones to out Xander Romano’s kinky side when they’d then have to face Xander Romano. Not to mention the Doctor…Ben gives a little shiver again, only this time it’s more like the frisson he gets before he and Xander have a play session.

  He hangs up with Ramona after telling her he’ll let her know if there might be any issues, but he stays in Xander’s bedroom for a moment to think rather than returning to the lounge.

  Not Xander’s bedroom; their bedroom. Ben smiles as he reminds himself. They’ve only been living together for a few weeks now, and he still has to pinch himself sometimes when he realizes how lucky he actually is. Xander asked him to move in a while back, but what with finding a good time to break Ben’s lease on his old apartment, and Xander flying back and forth to New York for guest star work on The Hunter, not to mention the studio starting pre-production on Ben’s superhero movie…time just got away from them.

  But they found a way, just like they’ve found a way through or past or over every other obstacle life has put in their way so far.

  If only the tabloids and the paparazzi and Xander’s ex would just let them be. It makes Ben uncomfortable to feel like he has to hide parts of himself from public view. He guesses that’s part of being a celebrity; Xander certainly seems to have accommodated it very well in his career so far, and he’s a lot more famous than Ben, that’s for sure. Sometimes Ben is confronted by his boyfriend’s sexy stare from the side of a bus, or on a billboard, or in an ad interrupting the baseball game. It’s still disconcerting for him, although he figures he’ll get used to it.

  It’s not like Ben wants to head up a float at the San Francisco Leather Pride parade or anything. It’s just that he has to be careful sometimes when they leave the house. Make sure his wrists aren’t on show, if they’re bruised. He can’t wear sleeveless tops to the gym in case someone sees the bite marks on his shoulders.

  It’s just a lot of optics stuff that Ben finds tedious, but still takes care to hide, because it’s like Ramona says: if they wanted to, and they had the right pictures to support a story? The tabloids could make his and Xander’s lives very difficult.

  “Why can’t they just leave us alone?” Ben growls aloud.

  All he wants to do is live his life in peace. Some days it feels like it’s an uphill battle; that he’s fighting just to live as he is, to live and love and express that love with freedom.

  “Everything okay?” Xander shouts through from the lounge.

  Ben goes back through to Xander. “Fine,” he says glumly. “She suggested a crisis management plan. Just in case.”

  Xander gives a sad smile. “She’s a smart cookie, your agent. Mm. Speaking of, you wanna go get some cookie things?”

  Ben knows it’s a ploy, as he and Xander set out for the non-Karl coffee shop that sells Xander’s chocolatey weakness. That Xander is trying to take his mind off things. But as Xander slings an arm around Ben’s shoulders and kisses him unapologetically in front of that photographer who always seems to be following them around these days, Ben doesn’t mind at all.

  Fuck the tabloids.

  He gets to kiss Xander Romano, and they don’t.

  As they enter the coffee shop, Ben even sticks his tongue out at the paparazzo, who chuckles even as he snaps away.

  And Xander just smirks and kisses him again.

  Ben decides to take some advice on the matter of covering up what he’s come to think of as playtime marks, and so later in the day, once Xander has had to get back on a plane to New York for his work on The Hunter, he calls the very person who texted him the link.

  “Hey, hey, Benny-boy!” a cheery voice greets him.

  “Hi, Jon. Listen, thanks for the heads up with the gossip.” He really means it, although he sounds resigned.

  “I figured Xander wouldn’t have seen it. I know he likes to stay above all that shit. I, on the other hand, cannot get enough Datalounge. I saw it linked there.”

  “Makes sense,” Ben says. Jon has Google alerts for every gay celeb, including the ones he refers to as Narnians—deep in the c
loset. “I was wondering: you want to get a drink tomorrow?” Jon does, so they arrange a time and place. Ben goes to bed feeling happier. He doesn’t even really know what he’ll talk about with Jon, but just being able to talk, to swap stories about Those Cute Doms, to hear Jon’s wild tales—it makes Ben feel like he actually belongs somewhere.

  And maybe Jon will be able to give him some tips on how to handle the day-to-day logistics of the BDSM lifestyle. Jon never seems to have to wear long sleeves in summer.

  Xander, as always, has left strict instructions for when Noah the dog should be put in the laundry for bed, and exactly how much dry food to leave out for Henry the cat. Ben, as always, completely ignores these instructions. He feeds Henry his favorite chicken tenderloins for dinner, and lets Noah up on the bed to sleep with him.

  Noah has taken with delight to having Ben in the house, probably because Ben is so nice about the bed sleeping. For Ben, it makes him feel less lonely when Xander is away to have the company at night. Even if that company does fart a lot, and snore loudly, and sleep heavily on his legs.

  Ben is reading in bed—Walt Whitman; he always returns to Walt when Xander is away, to feel that connection to New York—when his phone goes off.

  rule 4, baby xxx

  Ben can’t stop grinning like the supervillain in his upcoming movie when he sees the text. OK. Love you xxx he sends back.

  He knows the rules as thoroughly and completely as he knows each star in the constellation of Ursa Major tattooed next to Xander’s cock.

  Rule 4: Xander can withhold masturbation privileges from Ben, if he feels like it.

  Yep, fuck the tabloids.

  Ben has never been this happy in his life before.

  Chapter Four