Ben’s voice is still audible. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You know what. My head’s back in the game.”
“You just needed a second. Nothing much to do with me.”
“Seeing that knife makes me focus, and you know it.”
“Maybe.”
“You can be proud of me and I can say thank you to you. Okay?”
Byron slumps on to the closed toilet seat. Every word feels directed at him, showing him what he’s missed seeing, and missing out on. All those times Byron tried to live up to impossible standards, tried to be perfect for someone who never even existed, come flooding back to him. He feels bitter.
He tried so hard for nothing, never even realized what he could have had and—and that phony, that imposter Ben Ballard, he gets rewarded?
“Okay,” Xander says, his voice sweet. “Seems like a fair trade. You ready to go back out? Or we can leave if you want.”
“No. I want to go out there and watch you across the room and think about what we’re going to do later. And when I can’t stand it a second longer, we’ll go home and you can make me bleed.”
“You say such beautiful things, Benjamin.”
Byron wants to cry, really let go and sob with abandon. He keeps his hands over his face, trying to calm himself, at least until they leave. There’s anger, too, overwhelming resentment towards this man who fueled his fantasies for so long. This man who deceived him.
And overlying that, Byron can feel his allegiances changing, pulling away from Ben Ballard and stretching out tentative tendrils of want and need in a different direction.
“You go first,” Xander says. “I’ll follow in a few minutes.”
“I don’t care if people see us together.”
“I don’t care either, but I’d like time to settle down.”
“Settle—oh. Alright; I’ll leave you to it, Icy Bear.” Byron hears that joyous laughter again and another spasm of envy hits him, makes him gasp aloud just as the bedroom door shuts, and he tries to stifle himself again.
But it was loud enough that Xander might have been alerted to his presence.
Byron’s first instinct is to hide.
Chapter Nineteen
There’s nowhere to hide, really, except the claw-footed bathtub, which has a draw-around curtain. Byron clambers into the tub, trying to minimize the noise, but the dull metallic bangs are not exactly as muted as he hoped.
He’s quietly pulling the shower curtain across when Xander Romano appears in the doorway, frowning first and then shocked as hell when he snaps the light on and sees Byron.
Byron manages not to shriek, but he jerks backwards instinctively. The curtain rail makes a popping noise and the sheet comes half-away in his clenching fingers. Xander is holding the knife, and Byron can barely look away from it. It’s closed, but that doesn’t make any difference.
Xander slumps backwards with a small huff of laughter, his other hand over his heart. “Byron? What in the hell are you—”
“Don’t come near me!” Byron says wildly. “I mean it!” He shrinks back, but that makes it worse. It’s just like Psycho, and his mind starts up the refrain of screeching violins. He clutches the shower curtain around him like armor, still staring at the knife.
Xander glances down at his hand, following Byron’s eye-line, and hastily shoves the knife into his back pocket.
“Don’t hurt me!”
“I’m not going to hurt you. Come out of the tub.” Xander holds up his hands and takes a step backwards to the doorway.
“No!”
“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
“No. You were mad at me before, out there in the party. You were glaring at me. And Ben Ballard said he thought you were going to hit me.”
“I thought you were someone else. I’m sorry.” Byron stays where he is, shivering, and watching Xander warily. “Look, I don’t hurt people if they don’t want me to. You don’t want me to hurt you, so of course I won’t.”
Xander Romano is all dark eyes and hair, his mouth still red and warm from kissing Ben Ballard, and Byron licks his lips. “What if…what if I did want you to hurt me?”
Xander leans back against the wall, hands behind his back, and gives him a small smile. “I still wouldn’t. You think Benjamin would ever let me? He’d go nuts.”
“He lied to me.” Byron swipes an angry hand at his eyes. “He told me he was a Dom.” He can’t seem to stop the tears now, and it just makes him madder. “That—” he holds out a shaking hand, pointing to the door—“that is no Dominant. He’s a liar.”
A look of comprehension in Xander’s eyes, and then he shakes his head. “He didn’t lie to you Byron, not like you mean. He was trying to figure out some things for himself then. Sometimes…occasionally, he likes to top. Maybe he should have been more up-front about the specific nature of his experience, but he wasn’t actively lying to you or trying to trick you.”
Byron sinks down into the bath, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I was trying to be better. For him. But it was all just…” Fuck. Too many tears. He rubs his face furiously into his knees, pressing his eyes hard into the bones until he sees starbursts.
When he looks up, Xander has come closer. He's leaning against the counter, looking down into the bath at Byron. But he’s not scary now; his face is sympathetic.
“Ben told me about you, a while ago now,” he says casually. “But I do remember him telling me you said you were an experienced sub when you replied to his ad. Were you lying?” Byron can’t answer him, but looks away, ashamed. “He also said you asked him to burn you with cigarettes.”
“Yeah, well. He wouldn’t do it.”
“Are you still asking people to do that?”
“Why? Do you want to?” He glares up at Xander, but the guy just gazes back, calm. “No,” Byron admits at last. “He told me I should be more careful, so I…I have been. I went to one of those meetings not long ago, a—a munch?” He stumbles over the term, thinking he might have it wrong, but Xander nods. “I went to a munch thing but everyone there, I don’t know.”
He doesn’t want to tell Xander Romano that he was too scared to say much, too scared to talk to people even when they tried to engage him. And he made a total fool out of himself, too, with a hot Dom sitting at the head of the long table, who turned out to be straight. Byron only found that out after he’d knelt down next to his feet and asked if he’d consider taking on a new slave for training.
That Dom was the first and only guy Byron had considered a potential Master after meeting Ben, and that was mostly because the guy had bright blue eyes. The Dom hadn’t laughed at Byron, not to his face anyway, but he hadn’t been very pleased, either.
Other people had laughed.
But Byron had told himself he didn’t care, because if they knew that Ben Ballard had wanted him, they wouldn’t be laughing. Now, though…
“You don’t know what it’s like,” he says to Xander, miserable. “I’m so fucking stupid; I mess up all the time. And I’m a freak. Even at that munch thing; all the subs were girls and I didn’t fit in. Nobody wants me. When Ben Ballard turned up at my door I screwed that up too, because I asked so many questions that we never got a chance to do anything, and then he wouldn’t reply to me online anymore.”
“Ben was…I’m sure he was trying to do what he thought was best. He had a lot going on in his own life around then.”
“I tried to be good for him. I tried to, like, learn slave positions for presenting, and I tried to dress how I thought he’d like me to dress, and I stopped smoking. Cigarettes and weed. I tried to be a better person for him, in case he came back one day.” Byron takes the Kleenex that Xander hands to him, pulled from the countertop holder. When he blows his nose the sound echoes around the bathroom. “But he didn’t come back. And even if he had, it wouldn’t have been like I thought, would it? He’s not like that. He’s not like you. And I’m just a stupid kid. A freak.”
&
nbsp; Xander stands up straight, and Byron figures he’s going to leave, because who wouldn’t? Xander could be out there having fun, talking to interesting people, instead of stuck in a bathroom talking to some stupid kid who’s been perving on him and his boyfriend.
But he doesn’t leave. He gracefully kneels next to the tub instead and reaches out towards him slowly, puts his warm fingers over Byron’s cold hand and gives a little squeeze. “You’re not a freak. It might feel like that for a while, but eventually you’ll find where you fit in.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I promise. Actually, I’ll do better than promise. Do you have a pen?”
Byron does. He always keeps a pen in his pocket, and a piece of paper, in case his poetry muse hits while he’s out somewhere. He shifts around in the bath, trying to get into his pocket, until Xander says, “Why don’t you come out of there? It’ll make things easier.” Xander stands in one lovely movement and offers his hand to Byron, who takes it, wide-eyed.
Once he’s out of the tub, Byron shoves his hand deep into his jeans pocket and pulls out a chewed-up pen. It makes Byron self-conscious, but Xander doesn’t seem to notice. Xander takes the paper Byron hands him as well, smoothing it out on the bathroom counter. “I’m going to give you a name and a number to call, okay? Give this guy a call, and you can set up a meeting with him. He’ll be able to help you.”
“Is he a Dom?”
“No.”
“Then why—”
“Because he’s like you, and he’ll be able to introduce you to people, and tell you who’s safe and who’s not, and—look, just call him. Trust me. He’s much more patient than I am, and he’s a nice guy, you’ll like him. You look like you could use a friend.” Xander checks his phone and then starts scribbling on the paper Byron gives him, a cell number and a name—Jonathan Ashe.
Byron holds it in both hands to read it, making sure he understands Xander’s handwriting. He looks up at Xander Romano, who’s about a head taller than him, and decides to take a chance. “You could be my friend.”
Xander smiles, but shakes his head. “I’m not the kind of friend you need right now.”
“Well…what about Ben?” Byron asks, emboldened. “If he’s like me—”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d prefer that not to happen.” It’s the first time Xander has sounded remotely Dom-like since they’ve started speaking, and Byron feels his heart flutter.
He nods. “I get it. You don’t want your sub getting confused about his role.”
Xander gives him a strange look, but doesn’t say anything except, “Call Jon. Promise me.” He reaches out a hand and briefly squeezes Byron’s wrist.
How could I ever have thought he was a sub? Byron wonders. His eyes are so commanding.
“I promise. I promise, Sir.”
Xander pulls his hand back and shoves it deep into his pocket. Byron wonders if it’s because he feels like he might be overcome with passion if he keeps stroking his wrist.
“Listen,” Xander says. “You need to find your own partner. Don’t—don’t go building me up in your head like you did with Ben. You need to find someone right for you, and that person is not me.”
“I understand, Sir.”
“Jesus Christ,” Xander mutters, but then laughs. “Alright, little fledgling. Time to throw you out of the nest.” He motions with his arm, and Byron walks out of the bathroom, pauses at the door.
“You should go first,” he says. “Si—”
“Yeah, good idea,” Xander says quickly, and pulls the door open to check outside. “Okay. Clear. Byron—I hate to ask, but you haven’t been telling any tales about Ben, have you? Online, say?”
Byron frowns and shakes his head.
“And…you didn’t happen to take any pictures with your phone just now, did you?”
“Omigod no.” Byron is horrified. “I didn’t even tell anyone about Ben, after that one time. I wanted to, so bad. Like, real bad. But it didn’t feel right, because it was private between us. And I would never take pictures of him, or you, Sir, not without permission. That would be—”
“Alright. I trust you. Thank you.”
And then Xander is gone, and Byron is left with the scrap of paper and a phone number in spiky, generous handwriting. The moon in the window is smaller now, but less sickly-looking. The light is pure, silver instead of yellow.
Byron fixes the image in his memory for a few minutes before leaving the room, because he’s totally writing a poem about tonight when he gets home.
Chapter Twenty
As soon as they get inside the house, Ben pulls off his shirt, and throws it towards the sofa, ignoring Xander’s slightly pained look when it falls short and flutters to the floor. “Noah and Henry are with Joe, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“So no one will chew it!”
“You could at least—”
“Fine, fine.” Ben darts to pick it up from the floor and slings it over the back of a sofa chair. “All tidy. Now come on. Come and do bad things to me.” He’s rushing it because he’s nervous. Xander is going to scare him. Xander is going to cut him. Ben shivers.
But Xander takes his shoulders, stopping him. “Hang on, baby. Slight change of plan.”
“You don’t want me to take my clothes off?” Ben gives a puzzled frown. That’s new.
“Why don’t we both go get into bed? There’s something I want to talk over first.”
We’ve negotiated knife play already. There’s practically fine print about it, Ben thinks, but he lets Xander lead him by the hand to the bedroom, where they undress. Xander maneuvers Ben on to his back on the bed and pulls the covers up over them both, before propping himself up on one elbow.
“Are you comfortable?” Xander asks him. Ben nods. “So. That Byron kid.”
“That was embarrassing,” Ben says idly. He’s caught up in staring at Xander’s mouth, wondering if he’ll bite tonight. Break skin. Going back to the Doctor wouldn’t be quite so bad this time, now that Ben knows her better.
“More than you realize,” Xander says. “He was in the en suite of that room we were in at the party.”
Ben stares at him, horrified. “Please tell me this is some awful, cruel joke you’re making. This is just you being a sadist, right?”
Xander chuckles. “’Fraid not. Hey, don’t worry about it,” he says, as Ben groans and slowly slides down further in the bed, pulling the covers over his head. “Really. It’s all fine. It’s not like either of us had our junk out or anything. And he didn’t take any pictures, I made sure of that.”
“That’s not the point!” Ben snaps, popping his head back out again. “I was all…and you were…oh fuck. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know until after you’d gone. Jesus, I wouldn’t…I mean, you know I wouldn’t spring a surprise voyeur on you!” Xander sounds half offended and half amused. “Especially given the, uh, Pete Jones situation recently.”
Ben pulls the covers over his face again, but Xander snuggles underneath with him. He arranges the sheet over them so it feels like they have extra privacy, face-to-face in a white linen cave. Ben grimaces, replaying their intimate words and actions.
“I didn’t think you’d be this upset,” Xander says, concerned. “I thought you’d just be a little embarrassed. Because I mean, there was that time recently at the club when we—”
“Totally different.”
“Okay.”
“And not helping, Xander.”
“Sorry. I’m not crazy about the whole incident either, you know.”
Ben asks question after question about Byron until Xander can’t answer them anymore, and sighs. “Benjamin, I have no idea what he thought. Not psychic, remember? But from what he said…he thought you were lying to him about being a Dom. So I guess he felt betrayed there for a moment.”
Now that the first flush of mortification is fading, Ben feels bad. Really bad. He isn’t in the business of crushing dreams, even outl
andish dreams, and one look at Byron’s shining eyes and adoring smile when he appeared out of the crowd told Ben that he was the object of Byron’s fantasies. Very specific fantasies.
“Damn it, that poor kid. I never meant to make him feel…gah. And poor me. I don’t like people seeing me like that,” Ben says again. “Not without me knowing, anyway. Not without some kind of control over the situation.” They’ve been out to a club a few times recently, where Ben has let Xander show him off, but that was with Ben’s complete consent.
Xander pushes him down onto his back and nibbles along his clavicle. “But you’re gorgeous like that. Why does it bother you so much?”
Ben closes his eyes and concentrates on the feel of Xander’s lips, blunt teeth gently pinching at his skin. It’s easy for Xander. Xander has never had to suddenly readjust his understanding of his own sexuality; he was certain of it from a much younger age.
And Xander doesn’t have to deal with the idea that submission and masculinity don’t go hand-in-hand in people’s minds.
Ben is comfortable with himself most of the time. Happy. But every now and then he’s struck with doubt, uncertainty, and his sense of self takes a hit to the gut. Real men aren’t submissive. It doesn’t matter how much he tells himself that it’s sexist to think only of women as naturally submissive (totally not true, and he’s seen the unnerving proof with his own eyes with the Doctor).
It doesn’t matter how much Ben likes being hurt, held down, humiliated.
It doesn’t matter how much he talks it out in therapy and reads sex-positive books and talks to other guys who like the same stuff.
Once in a while, out of the blue, he’s unpleasantly surprised by a wave of self-loathing. He’s seen Xander feel that too, not often, and not for a while now, but Ben wonders if it’s the same kind of feeling.
But then, Xander doesn’t have to reassess his whole idea of manhood and reframe it in some way that isn’t black and white, positive and negative, because Xander is active, aggressive, assertive.
Flying Free (Rough Love Book 8) Page 16
